Page 2 of It's Always Sonny

I’m mostly winning the day so far. My makeup is flawless, but my black, bone straight hair is so thick, I didn’t have time to completely dry it. I’ve pulled it up into my usual high ponytail and hair-sprayed it to within an inch of its life, though, so the dampness shouldn’t be too noticeable. Should it?

No. Of course not. My client won’t notice.

She’s hiring Jane & Co. because we’re amazing at what we do, not because my hair is impeccable. Calm down. And because it’s the only thing that ever seems to pull me out of my spiraling head, I turn on sports talk radio.

I know true crime podcasts and political talking heads are all the rage. I don’t care. Sports talk is my thing, and I’m not ashamed of it (unless I’m talking to my parents).

Unfortunately, my guilty pleasure hasn’t done much for me lately, because the hosts are still talking about the Super Bowl, which ended a week and a half ago. And all they can talk about is the fate of the star running back who injured his knee scoring the game-winning touchdown for the Carolina Waves.

Santino “Sonny” Luciano.

My eyes flit down to the dash to see the time. I keep waiting to hear Sonny’s voice, considering it’s Thursday at 7:30 a.m., and he’s always on Jimmy and Bulldog on Thursdays at 7:30.

Not today.

The host explains that Sonny had a conflict but that he’ll be back next week, same time, same place. “And we hope he’ll have news regarding his future in the NFL,” Jimmy says.

I swallow my disappointment.

Wait, no. I’m not disappointed. I’m relieved not to hear Sonny’s voice.

For years, I’ve been able to follow his career with only the slightest pang of nostalgia. My best friend married the quarterback of Sonny’s team a few months ago, though, and now we’re back in each other’s lives.

And he’s back in my head.

Constantly.

Of course, he’s in everyone’s head after the Super Bowl. Jimmy and Bulldog are obsessing over him to a degree that merits a restraining order. This isn’t his first big knee injury. He had one a couple years into his rookie contract, and it should have been career ending. Somehow, he came back stronger than ever.

You know how things just seem to work out for some people? Those people are jealous of Sonny.

The universe loves him. Everyone loves him. He’s the most charismatic, genuine, caring guy in any room, and people flock to him. Including the hosts of the country’s most popular radio program.

“It is no exaggeration to say that everything for the Carolina Waves depends on what they do next. Do they trade him now for another running back or do they gamble on Sonny rehabbing?” Jimmy asks.

“Trade him?” I yell at the radio. “The Waves wouldn’t have even made it to the Super Bowl without him, let alone have won the thing! They can’t trade him!”

Ugh.

Maybe I should turn off the radio. But the reality is, a vast knowledge of sports has served me more times than I can count. Men who’ve been reluctant to hire a “tiny little thing” change their tune when they hear me talk about interceptions and pass completion percentages. Quoting a beloved sports analyst to a good ol’ boy is like giving him a letter of recommendation from a friend.

So even though my mother would hate that I’m listening to something as “uncouth” as sports talk, I have no smudges on my conscience.

And what if you did? Would it be the worst thing? A voice says in my head. But the voice isn’t mine. It’s low and hypnotic, and it always used to send shivers down my spine. That voice could talk me into anything, whether it was a midnight game of Sardines with half of his apartment complex or skipping a class and missing an exam worth a third of my grade …

I put a finger up to my earlobe and feel the bump from my second piercing. I haven’t worn an earring in there since shortly after I got the thing, but I like having the reminder of why I got it.

And then I turn up the volume.

“The real problem is that the Waves have still not released an update on Sonny’s injury beyond the canned statement right after the big game. What are we supposed to think about this, Bulldog?” Jimmy asks.

Jimmy is the main host—the professional radio personality who drives the show. Meanwhile, Bulldog—Buster “Bulldog” Jackson—is a former NFL player who played in the league for twelve years but who’s been doing radio since I was in diapers. He’s the lead color analyst for Total Sports Network, where he provides his experience as an ex player on live broadcasts. Jimmy is the slicker of the two, but Bulldog is the heart of the show. Rumor has it he’s retiring from TSN at the end of the year, and the sports world is abuzz with speculation over who will take his place.

“That’s the real question, Jimmy,” Bulldog says. “After almost two weeks, the coach has to have some idea about what’s on the horizon for Sonny. If he has to have a second surgery, his career is over. He’s one of the rare players in history who came back after the first surgery and didn’t lose a step.”

“You mean he gained one,” I say, and Jimmy echoes me moments later. My navigation system chimes, and I look around, trying to find where my next turn is. Chicago, where my friends and I moved from, wasn’t the easiest city to drive in, but at least you could see your turns. Driving around South Carolina is like driving around a forest. I can’t see a street until I’ve passed it, and because I never trust that the GPS can see something I don’t, more often than not, that means I miss my exit.

Like I do now.

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