Chapter 4 #2
Coco grabs a small lime from the counter and cuts it into wedges. “Melody has that look on her face like she broke one of her mom’s priceless antiques.”
“Or she bit you.” Lindsey’s green eyes flash with mischief.
“That only happened once when I was two,” I fuss. “You weren’t even alive yet.”
“Fina! So why do you look like you broke one of your mom’s priceless antiques?” Lindsey says with a laugh, leaning forward.
“First shots.” I grab a glass, and they quickly do the same.
We hold them up and do a quick cheers, then we toss them back, squealing as we reach for limes to press against our teeth to cut the bitterness.
“The palm is sacred!” Lindsey cries, and Coco snorts a laugh.
“To the Fireside Ladies!” she adds. “Now what’s the matter?”
The shot lifted my spirits, but my shoulders drop. “Mom and Dad just tag-teamed me about the way I’m covering Knox Bradford. They think I’m being too harsh.”
“You are being way harsh, Heather,” Coco giggles as she picks up another lime wedge. “But I think he’s going to be okay.”
“Knox Bradford does not need your dad to defend him,” Lindsey’s voice rises, and I wonder if that was her second shot of the day. “He’s a big bully, and he made you cry.”
“To be fair, I did take a wrong turn.” I turn the small glass in my fingers. “And it’s not like they’re defending him. It’s more like they’re giving me the ‘Be true to you’ speech.”
Coco exhales slowly. “You have always been the nice girl. You walked away from a very successful show because of it.”
“I’m still nice,” I argue, eyes wide. “How is it not nice to point out the mistakes a star player is making?”
“You know how.” My friend leans closer. “It’s the way you say it.”
“I like it.” Lindsey leans forward on the bar, smiling up at me. “I think it’s fun, and the listeners think it’s fun, too. We’re having a good time, and we just moved into a higher tier on Podspot.”
“What?” My eyes widen. “You didn’t tell me that!”
“I just found out.” She takes out her phone and starts swiping.
“I think it would be even more fun if he got so mad he decided to speak to you in person, then he showed up at your studio, and all this fun fighting turns into fun fucking.” Coco’s eyebrows waggle.
“Oh my God, you are so obnoxious,” I cry. “I’m not fucking Knox Bradford.”
“Well, I just can’t account for that.” Coco shakes her head. “Knox Bradford is sex on a stick.”
Lindsey holds up a finger. “Just give me the ten second warning so I can clear out before the panties fly.”
“I repeat, I am not having sex with Knox Bradford.” I lift my chin, internally denying my recognition of his hotness. “I’m a professional.”
“To be safe, I registered the pod as belonging to QP Enterprises,” Lindsey notes. “Our address is a PO box, our number is Google Voice, and nothing is linked to the house or the apartment or anything. He couldn’t find you if he wanted to.”
A stubborn shadow of disappointment drifts across my chest. I take the beer Coco holds out to me, clearing my throat.
“Good,” I announce with perhaps a bit of forced confidence.
“Boo,” Coco says, popping the top off her Abita Amber and taking a long sip. “I like my version of the story. It’s loads more fun.”
“The paparazzi would be stalking us if I hadn’t done it.” Lindsey’s eyes are on her phone, and she suddenly straightens. “Oh, boy… Oh, shit.”
“What?” Coco and I say at the same time.
Lindsey hands me her phone, and I take it, my eyes quickly scanning the screen. One of those ridiculous TMI headlines is on it, reading “K-brAD CLAPS BACK!!!!!” in bold, all-caps with all those silly exclamation points over a video.
I frown. “What is this?”
“Chet Arnold interview,” Lindsey explains.
Chet Arnold is a sideline reporter I’ve bumped into a few times. He’s got an ego the size of Texas, but otherwise, he seems okay. I’ve never had a problem with him. He even dropped me the occasional news tip when I worked with Susan. I haven’t heard from him since I parted ways with her.
Lindsey taps the triangle and the video plays.
My heart beats faster when Knox’s blue eyes flash at the camera.
His dark hair is still short on the sides, but it’s gotten longer on top and it hangs messily over his forehead.
His cheeks are dusted with whiskers, but I can tell he’s growing a mustache.
A tingle moves through my stomach. Coco is right, he’s hot as fuck.
“How do you feel about the rising popularity of Girl’s Got Game and the running critique of your play?” Chet asks.
The muscle in Knox’s square jaw pops. His dark brow lowers over those sapphire eyes, and a growl enters his tone. “I think people who don’t understand football need to get back in the kitchen and focus on making the wings and pizza.”
My eyes widen, and my lips part. “Did he just tell me to get back in the kitchen?”
“Oh, no he didn’t.” Lindsey wags her finger.
“He’s such a pig.” Coco puts her hand over her mouth, dark eyes flashing. “I’m obsessed with him.”
“He’s going to think ‘get back in the kitchen.’” My thumbs fly over the screen of my phone, and I quickly create a post.
“Let’s discuss K-Brad in the kitchen,” I say aloud as I type. “Instead of giving instructions, perhaps he could focus on finding the recipe for timing, pass completion, and most importantly, not wilting under intense heat.”
I don’t even think twice before tapping post, and as if the TMI guys were waiting for it, my comment goes live instantly.
“Ohh, shiiit.” Lindsey laughs, watching her phone. “The hearts are surging… and the laugh-crying emojis… and the red-face emojis.”
I lift my chin, feeling vindicated on my behalf and on behalf of all womankind… and everyone else for whom it might apply. We’ll send his ass back to the kitchen.
Coco’s eyes are wide, and her hand still covers her enormous grin. “This is so fun!”
I look from her to Lindsey with a smug expression. “Go left.”