False Start (14 page)

Release. Your. Grip.

He let his hands drop to his sides. Regaining his composure, he replied, "You'd better ditch the high heels. We can't afford for you to twist your ankle."

Addressing the girl behind the counter, he announced, "I'll have the turkey club. No chips."

"And I'll have the chicken Caesar, dressing on the side."

After she paid for their food, the girl gave Mattie a number card to place on their table.

Nick found a booth for two near a window overlooking the holiday shoppers traversing the sidewalk and asked, "So. What's the occasion?"

As Mattie slid into her seat, she whispered, "I need your permission."

Although her expression didn't reveal any hint of excitement, her eyes were still ten different kinds of sparkly.

"For what?"

"To use your rules."

Nick made a reeling motion with his hand, signaling her to keep talking. "For…?"

Mattie gave her head a quick shake. "Let me back up. Dianne, my editor, has been stumped on what to call this new feature about
"

Unable to find the perfect words to describe their unlikely collaboration, she finally blurted out, "Us. The whole marketing campaign has stalled because of it. We're really behind the eight ball. Then, this morning, I got a letter from a reader."

 "Here you go." A lanky man wearing jeans and a polo shirt with the restaurant's logo on the front set their orders in front of them.

"Can I get you anything else?"

"No," they replied in unison.

When he was gone, Mattie asked, "Where was I?"

 Nick, still wondering if Mattie herself had an evil twin or perhaps a family history of multiple personality disorder, prodded, "You got a letter from somebody."

 "Oh. Right. So, it's from a mom who needs advice on how to help her fourteen-year-old daughter who is overweight and miserable."

 Nick leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "Wait. Back up. You're an
advice
columnist?"

 Taking a deep breath, Mattie exhaled, "I am."

 "Do you always get this excited about getting a letter?" He took a large bite of his sandwich, waiting for her to reply.

 "No, I don't. But you're missing the point. I started writing a reply to this mother about how to help her daughter, and that's when it hit me."

 Nick, still chewing, raised both eyebrows and mumbled, "What?"

 Given the wall she had erected between them after their run-in at the YMCA, he expected her to issue a scathing condemnation or blistering insult. He set his sandwich down, leaned back in his seat, and held out his hand, inviting her to continue.

Almost dunking her sweater into the little cup of Caesar dressing that came with her salad, Mattie leaned forward and said, "Your rules."

Nick snarled, "Yeah? What about 'em?"

"I cribbed my whole reply from them."

The way she bit down on her lip, raised both eyebrows, and clenched her fists after she said it, he could tell she was pulling out all the stops to avoid getting gushy in front of him.

Still not sure why she wanted to meet with him, he kept his mouth shut and waited.

She pushed her salad and overflowing dressing cup aside, leaned even further forward, and clasped her hands on the table in front of her.

"As much as I hate to admit it, they're pretty powerful."

Nick, uncomfortable with the direction the conversation was going, muttered, "Geez. I never got this kind of reaction from my guys. I'm not even sure they read them."

Mattie rolled her eyes and flashed him a smile that made his heart skip a beat. "How many times do I have to remind you I'm not a sixteen-year-old boy?"

Never.

Suddenly wishing they had taken a table out on the frigid sidewalk, Nick cleared his throat and asked, "So what does this have to do with me?"

"Tell me the truth. Are you sure you came up with these rules all on your own? I don't think it would be in either of our best interests to be slapped with a plagiarism lawsuit."

"Yes, I came up with them all on my own." He ran a hand through his hair and sat back in his seat, adding, "Well, mostly. They're my favorite quotes from my favorite coaches. Every time I heard something I liked, I'd write it down in my notebook. Over the years, I had quite a few to pull from. They saw me through some pretty rough times."

Mattie shot back, "Do I have your permission to use them?"

Nick shrugged. "Sure."

Satisfied, Mattie leaned back in her seat. After picking at her salad for a minute, she looked him in the eye. "Can I ask you something?"

He tried to assess from her expression if he was about to be sucker punched. Hoping for the best, he repeated, "Sure."

"I know you don't think I have a chance in hell of ever completing this marathon, but
"

 "I never said that." His eyes grew wide as he continued,  "The thought never even crossed my mind."

She lowered her chin and looked across the table at him. "Look, running may be your thing, but self-deprecation is mine. I'm really good at it. I've been doing it since I was ten."

Before she barely got her last word out, Nick replied, "Yeah, well, I've been a runner since I was ten, and I'll make damn sure you cross that finish line, even if I have to drag you by your hair every step of the way. So what's your question?"

Mattie appeared a tad horrified at the image he invoked. "I'm not so sure I want to ask it now."

They stared at each other for an uncomfortable minute.

She started slowly, carefully choosing her words. "Do you think I can
"

"Yes."

Mattie gasped. "You didn't even let me finish."

"I didn't have to. You want to know if I think you can finish the marathon. I don't think you can; I
know
you can."

More uncomfortable silence ensued.

When she glanced out the window, Nick leaned forward and clasped his hands together. He caught the surprise in her eyes when they met his. "I wouldn't be here if I didn't think so."

The corner of her mouth curved into a slow smile. Pointing her fork at him, she said, "You want to know what I think? If we play this right, we can change the world."

Nick let out a hearty laugh as he eased back in his seat. "What are you talking about? All I'm on the hook for is getting you across the finish line in October."

 "And all I'm on the hook for is to write about it. But with your rules and my column, we have the power to make a huge difference in people's lives."

She waved her hands over the table, adding, "Bolster confidence, raise self-esteem, eradicate bullies. All the things you keep yelling at me about."

"I don't yell at you."

"You do, Nick. All the time. And it's all right. That's what coaches do, right? They yell. And you're my coach, so…"

 
You're my coach.

He liked how that sounded when she said it. It made him feel a little warmer on the inside. Even if her passion was directed more at his rules than at him, he liked being on the receiving end of it for a change.

Picking up his sandwich, he asked, "So what does this have to do with what they're doing at the paper?"

"They've been looking for an angle, a gimmick."

She scrunched her face up and asked, "How does 'Team Plate Spinner' grab you?"

 He frowned at her and set the last bite of his sandwich back down. "Wait a minute.
You're
the Plate Spinner?"

 "Yep, going on two years now."

 He studied her, recalling the caustic tone of the few columns his mother had shared with him, mostly for their entertainment value. He made a mental note to look up the rest online.

 "I thought you always wanted to be a big time journalist," he started.

Then, looking as if he had just taken a swig from a pickle jar, he asked, "Why are you writing an advice column?"

Given Mattie's reaction, he may as well have asked, "Is that really your natural hair color?"

The rare and wondrous light that had been sparking in her eyes clicked off. Just like that. He could barely hear her when she looked down at her nails and said, "I thought we were keeping the past in the past."

Nice going. Why don't you ask her how much she weighs while you're at it?

Back-pedaling as fast as he could, Nick offered, "Well, my Mom is a huge fan. She loves your column. She reads it all the time. She even keeps a binder of her favorites."

Schmoozing was not his forte.

"That's because she doesn't know I'm the one writing it."

Nick shook his head. "Not true. She likes you. A lot." He cringed at the slip.

Just stop talking.

"What? How do you know?"

"Listen, forget about that. Tell me more about your idea for the promotion."

He waited, hoping for the spark to return.

Instead, she checked her watch. "You know what? Never mind. I'd better get back to work. Thanks again for meeting me on such short notice. I'll see you in the morning."

"Oh. Yeah. Sure."

Nick watched her leave, wanting nothing more than to find a way to re-ignite the light in her eyes. What he found instead was what she had left behind.

*  *  *

Rushing straight to Dianne's office, Mattie found her editor sitting at her desk with her head down and bouncing her knee while twirling a pen between the fingers of her right hand.

"Hey there. Ready for my idea?"

Dianne started. "Hold that thought. Les is waiting for us."

"No, please. I need to run it by you first." Mattie dumped her coat in a nearby chair and made her pitch. She left nothing out—Nick's rules and the profound affect they were having on her all the way through to her promotion ideas, including use of the banned video clip of her first workout and hosting beginner running clinics.

After waiting an interminably long time for a response, Mattie watched as Dianne squinted at the ceiling.

"Team Plate Spinner? I like the sound of that."

Mattie scooted up to the edge of her chair. "I know, right? We can sell T-shirts, sweatshirts, caps, beach towels. All sorts of stuff."

Dianne smiled and asked, "And you have his permission to use his rules?"

"Yep."

"Seriously. Are you sure about this, kiddo? A couple of weeks ago, you were begging me not to use your picture. Putting your name and face out there, it's a big risk. That kind of exposure always comes with a price."

Gripping the arms of her chair, Mattie announced, "I'm not worried. Besides, what's the worst that can happen?"

Dianne considered this for a moment, resting a hand on her throat before responding, "You mean besides losing our jobs?"

Mattie dashed around the desk and gave her a quick hug. "You worry too much. If this takes off the way I think it will, we'll be able to start our own media company."

Patting her arm, Dianne chuckled, "All right. First things first. Let's see if it'll fly with Les. If it does, rest assured, I'll have your back. But if it doesn't, we're back to square one."

The two women made their way up to Lester's office and burst through the door without knocking.

Dianne announced, "I've got it."