Chapter Six
CHAPTER SIX
SAbrINA
I’m startled awake by the incessant buzzing of my cell. Pressing my face into my pillow, I try to ignore the annoying sound and go back to sleep. The buzzing doesn’t stop.
My body feels like it’s been hit by a freight train as I stretch blindly for the stupid device. My muscles ache from days of stress and high emotions as I twist and shimmy so that my arm can reach the bedside table.
I don’t remember setting the alarm yesterday. Why would I? It’s not like I had a job to report into today. Just as my hand slams down on the vibrating brick, it stops. Jesus, someone is calling me at what feels like the middle of the night.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” I groan, my voice muffled by the fabric of the pillow. I bring my outstretched arm back to my side and roll over. Squinting an eye open, I can see there is a bit of sun peeking through my blinds but not enough to make me get out of bed.
Grabbing my blanket, I pull it up over my head and twist to my side, hoping to fall back asleep.
My phone starts to vibrate again.
The urge to cry is strong. I just want to go back to sleep and forget for a little while that as of today, my career has hit the pause button.
When my phone stops, then starts buzzing again, I know I can’t ignore it any longer. If someone is trying this hard to get in touch with me, it must be an emergency.
Propping myself up on my elbows, I crawl to the edge of the bed and grab my cell. My heart starts to race when I see my sister’s name on the screen.
“What’s wrong,” I half bark, half grumble when I answer. My voice sounds funny, still hoarse with sleep.
“What kind of greeting is that?”
“What are you talking about? Why are you calling me so early in the morning? What happened?” The words spill out of me in breathless huffs as I flip myself over into a sitting position. My arm is shaking holding the phone, so I put it on speaker. If something is wrong, I need to give Suzanne my full attention.
“Ten is early in the morning for you? That’s ridiculous, Rina.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I silently count to five. In a slow and controlled voice, I ask again, “Why are you calling me Suzie? If you don’t recall, last night was my last night reporting for the Sphere , and I was out late. If this isn’t an emergency, then I’m sorry, I’m going to have to hang up and chat with you later.”
“You are so grumpy in the morning” is her only reply.
“Yeah, well, we can’t all be rays of fucking sunshine like you. I’ll talk to you later.” My finger is descending on the red button when I hear a shout from the other end.
“Wait! Rina, wait!”
Looking at the ceiling, I pray for patience.
“Are you there? Rina? Don’t you dare hang up on me!”
“I’m here,” I sigh.
“Look, I’ll get right to the point since your grumpy ass has zero patience.”
“I have patience, Suzanne. Excuse me if I’m not at my best the day after I lose my job and get woken up at the break of dawn.” I can hear her stifling her laughter on the other end of the phone. “I’m glad my pain causes you such joy.”
“Oh, stuff it, Bean. I was calling to let you know that your interview with Max is going viral. The public loves the two of you together.”
I must still be dreaming because what my sister is saying can’t be real. My interview with Max during the second-period intermission last night did not go well. The two of us ended up arguing, for crying out loud.
“Suz—” I begin, but she cuts me off.
“I’m serious, Sabrina. You’re the talk of every morning show today. I am literally staring at your face right now as Travis watches Recap 30 on the Sports News Network.”
The tone of her voice has me sitting up and on high alert.
“Really?”
“I wouldn’t lie about this. Turn on your TV or click into something.”
Getting to the living room for the TV feels like too far of a distance right now for the urgency I’m feeling. Tapping out of the call screen on my phone, I open my SNN app. I don’t have to scroll or look far. There I am, the first video post on the homepage.
It’s a thumbnail of me and Max from last night with the headline, “ Daws shows game off ice with local reporter .”
“Oh my God.” Tapping around, I find that my social media has exploded with tags, comments and new followers. My email is pure chaos, and as I scan down the long list, I see a few emails from local and national stations inquiring about chatting with me. “This is insane.”
I don’t realize I’ve said the words out loud until my sister responds.
“This is good, right? You’ll keep momentum for a bit until you find your next great adventure.”
“Yeah,” I say, still not believing what’s happening. “Maybe.”
“Okay, I’m going to let you go. Sounds like you need to obsess over this for a while.”
“Yeah,” I repeat, not really hearing her as I read my emails.
“Bye. Love you!”
“Love you too,” I say to a dial tone.
The next hour is a haze of searching, scrolling and pinching myself. I can’t believe me and Max harping on each other got this much attention. I was expecting the network to say good riddance to me after that stunt, but instead, they’re telling me good job .
Internally, I joke with myself that the Sphere is probably kicking themselves for letting me leave. I did my best work—at least in their eyes—on my final night reporting for them. A sense of pride fills me. I don’t feel quite so hopeless anymore. This could bring amazing opportunities that I wouldn’t have had a chance at before this.
When my neck begins to ache thanks to me being crouched over my phone all morning, I decide to take a break from social media and actually get out of bed.
There is so much to do now. So many emails to respond to.
A part of me hates that I’m getting this attention because of Max. I knew long ago when I decided that I wanted to be a sports reporter that running into him would be inevitable. Max was destined for the pros long before I got the journalism bug. This instant fan love is a bit over-the-top though. We’d interacted onscreen before, and no one had given a crap.
Yet, that other part of me, the part that I’m trying really, really hard to push down, is grateful to Max. He’d picked up on my mood and good-naturedly gone along with the teasing. It was because of him that last night hadn’t been a complete disaster.
Maybe there are some redeeming qualities about him.
Splashing cold water on my face, I snap out of my strange thoughts. Eww, I’m actually thinking nice thoughts about Max. No, thank you.
His one good deed for the decade can’t be my swaying factor into liking, let alone tolerating, him again. It won’t be that easy to get back into my good graces. If ever.
Whatever. I need to switch gears and get ready for the day. I have an interview today with Toronto Sports Now that I’d secured before my internet fame and desperately need to prepare for that. Even though interviewing is part of my job, being interviewed is something I’m not completely comfortable with.
I spend the rest of the morning going over my notes and practising some of my answers out loud. When it’s time, I shower and dress for my meeting.
The Sports Now offices are located inside a refurbished historical building right on King Street in the heart of Toronto. I left an extra thirty minutes early, knowing the traffic was going to be horrific, and it still wasn’t enough time. I had to thank and dash out of my Uber five blocks away in order to make it to the building with three minutes to spare.
I wasn’t going for the sweaty, out-of-breath look, but that’s exactly what they’re getting as I huff my name at the receptionist. She stares at me a little too long in shock before realizing we’re in a stare down.
“Right. Sorry,” she stammers. “Please take a seat, and I will let Ray know you’re here.”
“Thanks,” I breathe out, grateful for the extra time to get myself under control. My butt has just hit the chair and I’m reaching into my bag for my water bottle when one of the far glass doors opens, and there is Ray.
“Ah! Right on time! Sabrina, how are you doing?”
I choke on my sip of water. Grimacing, I give Ray a nod of greeting before turning to the side and coughing. It takes me a full minute to get myself under control again.
“Sorry,” I gasp. “Water went down the wrong way.” I sound like a ninety-year-old smoker, but Ray just smiles his practised reporter smile at me.
“No problem. Why don’t we head back into my office.”
Nodding, I follow him through the office doors and into a nice but very white and minimalist space. This is nothing like the chaotic offices of the Sphere .
Ray’s office is exactly what I’m expecting. The white theme continues, but he’s got sports memorabilia and pictures of career highlights on every wall and surface. I’m not sure how I feel about such a clean space as I am a creature of chaos, but I give him a forced smile as I take everything in.
“Better?”
“Yes, sorry. Traffic was, well, Toronto traffic, and I had to boot it for the last block.”
“It’s always a nightmare. Having an office central in the city is great, but it definitely has its downfalls too.”
“I can imagine,” I placate him. Ray Montello is the host of On the Ice and head of the sports broadcasting department. I highly doubt he worries about traffic when he has a driver to take him everywhere.
“Look, Sabrina, I’m stoked you came in today. I caught the clip of your interview with Daws last night, and I have to say I love your reporting style. Informational but also fun—it’s a unique blend to find in a reporter.”
His wording makes it sound like he’s only seen one interview of mine. My usual style is informational…but fun? I wouldn’t exactly call quips and insights fun. Before I can say anything, Ray continues on.
“You’re exactly the talent we’re looking for here.”
My heart rate speeds up. Yes, this is it. The next step in my career. Being a part of Ray’s team of sports analysts won’t provide as much air time as the Sphere , but the connections I would make and the exposure—that would be a game changer. Oh my God!
“But—”
The high I was feeling seconds ago shrivels up and dies. My body deflates with just that one word.
“But,” he repeats again, pausing, “unfortunately, we’re all staffed up. I’d love to keep your info in case we need a substitute or even a guest panelist.”
He’s looking at me, expecting something. I realize I’ve just been staring at him, lost in thought and mute with shock.
“Yeah,” I quickly provide. “Yeah, that would be great.” My words are hollow, and I’m sure Ray can see how glassy my eyes are.
“Excellent!” He claps his hands, pushing back his chair and standing again.
Oh, okay. I guess this meeting is over. I had thought I was interviewing for a position today, but turns out I was just here to be fawned over.
Taking his outstretched hand, I give it a firm shake before exiting his office. He doesn’t even try to walk me out. I’ve been expertly dismissed. I keep a small, fake grin on my face as I pass workers and even give a thankful nod to the receptionist.
As soon as I’m back out on the street, I let out a shuddering exhale. My chest feels hot, but the rest of my body is still ice-cold.
What the hell just happened? What I thought was going to be a career stepping stone turned into a goddamn waste of my time and a mindfuck. Why had they even set up this interview if it was just to string me along? And oh my God, what if he hadn’t seen the clip of Max and me? What would Ray have even talked to me about? They’d asked for this meeting before I went viral.
The city life continues around me, but I stay still, watching and waiting for who knows what. I don’t want to stay here, but I definitely don’t want to go home. If I head back to my apartment now, I’ll just wallow in my own self-pity. And eat everything in my fridge.
That will not fly with me today. This is just a minor setback. Something great is just around the corner. So I’ll just keep walking and circling the block, metaphorically, until that opportunity presents itself.
Tipping my head up to the sun and squaring my shoulders, I begin to walk away from the building. I have no idea where I’m headed, but it feels good to be moving. Focusing on something new instead of overthinking the events of minutes ago.
I don’t know how long I walk before calm spreads through my body, but it must have been a while. It’s no surprise that my feet have taken me down Front Street and to Toronto’s Hockey Hall of Fame.
As I pause to admire the historical building, a smile spreads across my face. Memories of coming here as a child flood my senses. How I would press my face against every glass display and gaze at the memorabilia. My dad would laugh but listen intently as I read the plaques out to him.
This was the place that sparked my desire to work in sports media. I wasn’t an athlete by any sense of the word when I was a kid or even now. I appreciated physical exercise but wasn’t dedicated enough to anything to wake up at the butt-crack of dawn to practice.
Yet it was here that I learned there were many avenues I could take if I wanted a career in sports. I didn’t need to be able to shoot a puck or catch a ball to live and breathe the action.
A contented sigh escapes me. I fucking loved this place.
Thinking that a nice walk around the museum would be a fun escape, I make my way to the entrance, only to stop in my tracks when I see it.
“He’s haunting me,” I curse, shaking my head as I stare up at the massive banner of Max and two other teammates that I don’t dare look at. Max’s gaze penetrates me like he’s looking deep into my soul, his green eyes daring me to make a move.
I hate that his stupid handsome face is hanging here. No matter where I go in the city, there is some reminder of him.
Two weeks ago, before we came face to face at the party, I barely thought of the man. His image didn’t cause me to hesitate or lose my train of thought. Heck, I could even talk about him quickly as I was reporting and not lose a beat.
Now, I can’t get through an afternoon without being confronted by his image, his voice, or even his jersey. He is everywhere. When did this happen?
We don’t have the best history, but surely after his betrayal, I didn’t develop some superhuman ability to block him out…right? Because if so, where are those powers now? Had his touch broken the spell?
“You know what? No.” Again, I’m talking to myself out loud, but I don’t care. I can’t deal with this, him , right now. It’s another reminder of the part of me I’m missing.
Sports reporting.
Not Max.
No, never him. I don’t miss him.
Turning away from the one place I thought would always be my safe haven, I try to fight the feeling in the pit of my stomach that feels a lot like yearning.