Chapter Nine
CHAPTER NINE
SAbrINA
I’m running on the spot in the middle of my living room, looking like the biggest idiot.
I don’t care.
In ten minutes, I would be in a virtual meeting with SNN and one of my idols, Bruna Rose. I had so much energy and I needed to get some of it out so I didn’t make a complete fool of myself as soon as I saw her. Oh, and Ricky. He is a big name too, just not as big as Bruna.
“It’s happening!” I sing to my empty apartment. “It’s happening!” I stop running and take a step forward like I was taught decades ago in tae kwon do. “Who’s gonna impress the shit out of them?” I take another step forward, and as I do, I punch the open air. “I am! Who’s gonna make BFFs with her female sports idol?” Another step. “I am!” Another air punch. “Who’s gonna knock their socks off and land this job and then get offered all the other jobs at SNN?” I start to erratically punch the air, one after the other, until I’m short on breath and stop to lift my arms in victory. “I am!”
My cheeks are starting to hurt. I’ve been smiling so much over the last day. Catching my breath, I smooth my favorite dark burgundy sweater and shake my hair off my face. Popping out into the hallway, I give myself a quick once-over to make sure I’m still looking fine…and professional too, obviously.
“It’s go time,” I say to my reflection. “You got this.” With a final nod, I march into my office and plop down on the swivel chair. And wait. I have two minutes until the meeting is set to begin.
At one minute, I click the link and wait in the virtual waiting room. The camera is working, and I click the sound icon on and off a few times to make sure I’m on the right one—you can never be too careful.
When the digital clock finally reads the meeting time, I count to five, take a deep breath, and click Join.
“Sabrina! Hello. Nice to see you.”
Everyone is already here. I freeze like a deer in headlights as I take in the people before me.
“H-hi,” I stammer, then try again, not wanting these members of SNN to think I can’t project, let alone speak. “Hello! Great to see you as well, Ricky.”
“Appreciate you making the time, Sabrina. We move fast here at SNN, so your flexibility was extremely helpful. Do you know who we all are, or do you want introductions?”
Be cool. Be cool. Be cool. I repeat the mantra in my head as Bruna freaking Rose addresses me.
“Oh, I know who you are, Ms. Rose. I’m a huge fan. The work you did on the—”
“Every time,” Ricky laughs, cutting me off. “Every damn time, Rose, you meet another fan in these meetings. You owe me twenty dollars”
I’m wide-eyed and confused. Has Ricky gotten his ego hurt because I gravitated to Bruna? I can’t read the situation yet. He’s still chuckling and shaking his head.
“Ignore him,” Bruna admonishes. “He’s jealous because most journalists we interview for opportunities here at SNN praise me first and not him.”
“Well, then he needs to unearth a scandal within a national team and report on how we need to fix the system and protect the victims.” The words slip out before my brain clicks in. Oh no. What the hell did I just say?
A hoot of laughter bursts out from my computer, and I blink, not sure I’m seeing or hearing this right.
Bruna’s head is thrown back in laughter, and West is nodding with smaller chuckles.
“Damn, Sabrina, why’d you have to do me like that?” Ricky asks, a huge smile on his face. Thank God I didn’t offend him.
“That just shows me you’re the perfect fit for this documentary,” Bruna starts. “I was a little worried since most of your work with the Toronto Sphere was direct and straightforward reporting, but you just showed me you can do both. The serious and the humour. That’s what we need for this next project.”
“Okay, I understand that. Documentaries always have a fine balance.”
“Yes, and with this one, we’re hoping that your relationship with the player will help draw out more information and paint a vivid picture of his day-to-day but also unearth how he became the player he is today.”
“My relationship with the player?” I question, racking my brain to where this direction of conversation is coming from. “I can assure you I’ve never had a romantic relationship with any professional sports athlete.”
“No. No, that’s not what I meant. Sorry.” Ricky holds his hands up in correction. “I mean it works great that you and Max already have a foundation of trust to start from. He was really hard to pin down for this project.”
Black spots fade in and out of my vision. No. That can’t be right. I’m sure I must have heard wrong.
“Hold on,” I interrupt. “This documentary is about Max Daws? Max Daws of the Toronto Nighthawks? That guy?”
“Is there a problem with that?” Bruna asks, her head tilted just so at the camera.
I don’t answer right away. My thoughts are zooming around, and I can’t get a handle on any of them.
“You don’t seem to be thrilled at the idea,” Ricky comments. I must not be hiding my facial emotions well if he can spot that.
“It’s not that I’m not excited at the prospect…” I have no idea what was coming after that. All I can think of is smothering Max’s face with a pillow. How dare he interfere with my career. Even if it is a once-in-a-lifetime offer. An opportunity to work with SNN—and Bruna Rose!—doesn’t come around very often. Or ever.
“Daws has stipulated that you are the only host he’s interested in working with.” Bruna folds her hands on the small sliver of desk I can see in the video and leans forward. “I don’t want to pressure you, but if this is a project that doesn’t appeal, we will potentially lose the entire thing. Daws has turned down every other host we’ve pitched to him.”
“Wait. So I wasn’t even your choice?”
“To be honest, Sabrina, no,” Bruna starts, making my spine straighten, stunned. “ And that’s nothing against you, your talent, or anything along that vein. It’s just that we have full-time staff who have experience doing sports documentaries, and we went with them first. We’re happy Daws brought new talent into the picture, but with new people come new risks.”
“Like them saying no and the documentary being cancelled,” Ricky interjects dryly.
“Yes,” Bruna sighs, her tone annoyed. “Like that. Thanks, Ricky.”
My eyes flick back and forth between Bruna, Ricky, and a note-taking East. My pride, once again, has been hit, but this time, I’m a little okay with it.
Do I want to cave in to Max’s charity, a clear violation of professional boundaries…yes. But I also don’t want him holding this over my head for the rest of his life. I’d have to do the unthinkable—have a conversation with him to lay boundaries.
If I’m going to take this job—which, let’s face it, I am—he’d have to understand that us working together is part of my job. It’s not an opportunity for him to apologize or get back into my good graces. We’d be colleges. Documentary host and the main subject.
God, he must be loving the idea of a documentary all about him. The lucky bastard.
“Sabrina? How are you feeling about everything? We could go over the contract first if you’d like, or if you have any concerns, I’m happy to field them. We are getting a bit tight on time, so…”
“I’m in,” I say loudly, making up my mind on the spot. “I’m in, but I would like a section of the contract to state that if the documentary goes well, I’ll remain on the SNN team as a freelance reporter for a period of twelve months. I need to know that SNN has faith in me. That you’re not just doing this for Max; you have faith in my abilities too.”
Ricky’s face looks absolutely stunned. He’s going a little red as he fumbles for words. Bruna, however, is really staring at me. She’s looking for something, but I’m not sure what.
Finally, after what feels like an hour of silence, Bruna nods.
“We can do that. SNN needs more people like you, Sabrina. People who know their worth and fight for what’s right. You remind me a little of my younger self.”
My eyes practically bug out of my face. “That’s so incredibly flattering. Oh my God.” My mouth opens and closes, but no words come out as I try to communicate how monumental her comment is.
There’s no time though. Bruna simply gives a tiny nod at my fangirling and continues. For our remaining time together, we go over the contract, the aim of the documentary, and the timeline until filming.
I only have two weeks to prepare, but I can make it work.
It will also give me enough time to murder Max Daws and then bring him back from the dead for pulling this stunt.