Talk to Me (9 page)

MEA CULPA (n.):

A Latin phrase meaning
“
through my fault.
”
In other words, when a reporter fucks up.

Casey

“Why the hell did you give my story to the paper?” I stormed Phil’s office after I read the
Pioneer Press
.

“Simmer down,” he said between bites of a greasy breakfast sandwich. “I didn’t share it with the sports department, just with the
mouth.”

He was referring to Tina, the gossip columnist, and I didn’t see the difference. He gave away my story.

“I did you a favor,” he said. “We’re beginning to build the buzz for your story.”

“We don’t even know if it is a story yet,” I argued. “There could be some logical explanation. We need to get all the facts before we end up hurting someone for no reason.”

I ached thinking about how hurt Finn would be by the time this was done.

“You don’t understand business yet,” Phil said. “True reporters will stop at nothing to get their story. They’re not worried about hurting feelings or, God forbid, having someone get mad at them. They do the work and they don’t apologize for it. You better decide what you want to do, Casey. You have a head start on this story, but the other guys will catch up. It’s time to decide. Are you capable of making a big move or not?”

***

Finn invited me for dinner, and though I wanted to be anywhere else, I couldn’t say no to him. As we sat at the table — our uneaten pasta between us — the guilt inched up like bile in the back of my throat.

“It’s been a rough day,” he said.

“I can see that,” I said, unable to meet his eyes. “Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“The
Pioneer Press
reported a lie about me today,” he said.

Denial, really?

“A lie?” I asked.

“Yeah, it was in Tina’s column.”

“I know about that article,” I admitted. “People were talking about it at the station.”

I leveled a look at him. Just try to get out of this one, Daley. I didn’t think the news should’ve been fodder for the world when we didn’t yet know all the details, but for the woman he was dating? Yeah, it might’ve been nice to have heads up on that one.

“Don’t look at me like that, Casey,” he said, reaching for my hands. “I don’t have a kid.”

“If that was you Tina was talking about in the article, it sounded like she had proof.”

“I’m telling you, she got it wrong.”

“She said she had financial records.”

“Yeah, and she didn’t do her homework. Those records are for my mom.”

“What do you mean?”

“Grace Daley is my mom, Case.”

“Why are you paying your mother so much money a month?”

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I pay for her care. She has mental illness.”

“Oh my god,” I said, frozen in my seat. I thought if I moved an inch, I’d throw up. This was bad. It was so bad.

“I tried taking care of her for a while when I was first drafted, but it was too much. Putting her in a facility is one of my biggest regrets.”

This man was unbelievable.

“That’s more than I could ever do,” I told him honestly. I wasn’t good with illness or caretaking or anything except looking after my own interests. Obviously.

“You’d be surprised what you’d do for someone you love,” he said.

“I don’t think so. Some people are better than others. I’m telling you. I wouldn’t even attempt something like that.”

Finn looked at me like I just punched him in the gut. In many ways, that’s exactly what I did.

“Deep down, I know she’s in a better place now,” he said, shaking it off. “One that can give her round the clock care.”

“Oh, Finn,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

I really was, and if I had anything to do with it, I’d make Phil sorry as well.

It was time to focus on a story that wouldn’t ruin someone’s life. A story I’d feel good about.

Over the next day, one took hold.

Finn

Anchor/Kiki Stuart:
Did the paper print a retraction?

Finn Daley:
They didn’t have to because they never reported the name of the hockey player.

Anchor/Kiki Stuart:
Were you afraid someone was getting closer to your real secret?

Finn Daley:
Terrified.

The next few days, Casey looked over me like a mother hen. Of course it all made sense in hindsight. At the time, I was thrilled with her company. She had this way about her. Everything was better when she was around. And her shenanigans at work made me laugh. She lived to give The Mole hell.

My phone buzzed a few hours before game time. I hadn’t been to a game since I first saw Casey. I was afraid I’d take her in the back of the news van if I saw her in her Sports Girl wear holding her little microphone.

I knew she absolutely hated that get-up, but my body responded quite well to it. She filled out the jersey perfectly.

Sometimes I was tempted to give her one of mine. I wanted to see my team logo sitting on her chest; my name on her back. It was such a Neanderthal thing to think and I wouldn’t dare tell her, but that alpha inside wanted to mark her as mine. Piss a circle around her so all the other males would stay away.

According to Nate, it was past time to consummate our arrangement. And after all the shit we’d just been through, I was hoping tonight would be it.

I picked up my phone; it was a text coming in from Casey. She rarely did that, so immediately my heart started jumping.

The text read:
BE SURE TO WATCH THE PRE-GAME 2NITE.

Casey wasn’t the type of woman to use all caps without reason. This was big.

Why?
I asked.
Wearing something special?

Not me.

Don’t really care about anyone else,
I typed back.

Just watch.

I never miss it. Coming over tonight?

Sure, if The Mole lets me leave
, she replied.

Uh-oh. What do you have planned, woman?

You’ll see.

STAND-UP (n.):

A video clip of a reporter on location.

Casey

“Ready, guys?” I asked Jonathan and Mack.

“As ready as we can be, considering,” Mack said.

“Phil is going to be so pissed,” Jonathan said.

“Not at you, Golden One.” Mack bowed.

“Don’t worry,” I told them. “I’ll take all the heat. You sure you’re cool, J?”

“Hell yes,” he laughed. “Everyone knows a cameraman’s job is to follow the reporter. No skin off my back.”

“Jo and Aubrey, you guys cool?” I recruited some help from the other Sports Girls as well.

“I’m just thrilled to be wearing a baggy sweatshirt,” Jo said. “I was actually able to eat this week. Normally, I’m starving for days before each shoot. Those tight jerseys show all my jiggly bits. A few guys on my Twitter feed even told me to lay off the beer.”

“Asswipes,” Mackenzie yelled.

We pulled into the parking lot for our live shot, and I had never been more excited. When Jonathan told me to liven up my cut-ins, I asked if I could invite the other girls for something special. He said,
abso-fucking-lutely
.

I wondered what he’d be saying after our live shot.

The
girls
and I kept our fuck-me hair and make-up intact, but chose more appropriate sportswear. Appropriately-sized sweatshirts, jeans, and sneakers.

Jonathan pulled into the parking lot of Buns-n-Bowties. We all made our way inside, giggling like a bunch of kids.

The owner was expecting us.

After another one of Phil’s scathing critiques of my hockey coverage, I was ready to quit. He was condescending and insulting, not to mention repulsive with his leftover lunch jammed in between his front teeth.

“We need more excitement, Casey. A reason for viewers to stay with us instead of surfing for porn, waiting for the game to start.”

“So you want me to be more entertaining than a porn star?” I asked. “Not sure how to make that happen, big guy.

“Fuck,” he said, saliva spraying everywhere. “This non-stop shit from you is getting old.”

“So what do you want me to do?” I asked.

“It’s not my job to tell you, but I will say that your next live shot better be interesting or we’re going to have words.”

“Your wish, my command,” I said, flipping him off as he left the dressing room.

He wanted memorable, well, that’s exactly what I’d deliver.

“Casey.” Lydia, the proud owner of Buns-n-Bowties, greeted me with a hug. She was a tiny doll of a woman. “We are so excited to have you girls here. So excited.” She squeezed me again.

“We’re excited to be here,” I told her. “You got your A-squad ready for us tonight?”

“Honey, my boys are so cut and hung the camera lens might melt off.”

“Ew, let me just change to a more durable lens,” Jonathan piped in, clearly enjoying the drama.

“Just remember, no frank and beans hanging out,” I told her. “We don’t want to get in trouble with the FCC.”

“Aww,” Mackenzie whined. “You’re taking all the fun out of it. We at least need some assless chaps or something.”

“I’ll take care of you, baby,” Lydia told her. “You stay with me after the live shot and I’ll hook you up.”

“Done,” Mackenzie said.

Jonathan set up the lights and equipment, while I went over the details with the girls.

***

Ten minutes before our cut-in and we were ready to go. Lydia gave us a preview of the show and it was perfect. I gathered Mackenzie, Jo, and Aubrey. They were just as focused as I was.

And that’s when all these women filtered in. I looked at Lydia and she shrugged.

But Mackenzie was wearing the most wicked grin.

“What did you do?” I asked her.

“Just put a note on all of my social media sites. They got the timing perfect.”

“I don’t know about this, Mack.”

“It’s going to be fine, trust me.”

Over one hundred women must’ve poured into the room within a span of five minutes. I tried to ignore it and remain focused on the task at hand.

Too soon, Jonathan was counting us down, and the red light signaled me to begin.

“Hi, I’m K.C., your KXAA Sports Girl. And tonight I’m with some of my friends.”

The girls all gave a warm welcome and thanked me for inviting them to a night of firsts.

“It’s come to our attention that we’ve been leaving out a very important demographic in our viewing audience. We have some of them here tonight.”

The women behind us went nuts. They clapped and cheered, and help up signs that said, FINALLY KXAA; REAL WOMEN WATCH SPORTS; and my favorite, BRING ON THE MEN.

“That’s why we’ve decided to give our female viewing audience a real treat,” I said.

And that’s when the male strippers came out in all their glory.

Finn

Anchor/Kiki Stuart:
So how did you find out what she was up to?

Finn Daley:
Well, that took a little while. But she was revealing herself to me more and more each week. I quickly discovered she was unstoppable when she really wanted something.

“Oh shit,” I said the words out loud even though I was home alone. The girl had balls. There she was, completely in her element. Gone were the tight shirts, flirty attitudes, and all of the modelesque posturing for the camera.

Casey and the others were dressed in comfortable team sweatshirts and jeans, sitting around a table like a group of old friends. A ton of women in the background showed up to support them, but Casey hadn’t yet revealed where they were. It was clearly a bar, but it didn’t look familiar to me, and back in the day I had been to almost every hot spot there was. Casey and Mack led off the discussion with statistics on the number of women watching sports, the number of families, the actual demographics. They talked about why it was important to offer something to everyone, particularly the most ignored: women.

And that’s when the music started and the guys began their show.

Two shirtless beefcakes strutted down a raised runway behind the girls.

“Oh, the show’s starting,” Casey said in a very nonchalant way. “We’re reporting live from Buns-n-Bowties, where these sweet men dance all night long.”

The Sports Girls turned to watch the show, riveted, just like they do for all of the important games. It was priceless.

“Hi there.” She walked up the runway and stopped one of the strippers.

“Hello to you,” he said in such a fake low voice it made me laugh.

“Are you excited about tonight’s game?” she continued, just as she did with every other pre-game show.

“Yeah, Rogers is unstoppable this year. I predict a blowout.”

Casey thanked the beefcake and walked back to the table.

“He makes a good point,” Casey said. “What do you think about the lineup this season, Mack?”

And they continued on like there wasn’t a strip show going on behind them. It was brilliant. But fuck, was she going to be in trouble.