Page 8 of Necessary Roughness

I really,reallyhated Brett Mercer.

3

BRETT

The next day, the harsh headlines and snarky quips did not come as easily as they normally would.

I paced in my living room—well, my boss’s living room—anxiously replaying my interaction with Luke word for word. I had made a complete fool of myself, and we both knew it.

Now, I was faced with an even more awkward task: recording the latest episode ofPinnacle Playbook, loaded with fresh criticisms of Luke’s actions both on and off the field.

My listeners were absolutely ravenous for new commentary.

I wouldn’t let myself soften into some bullshit journalist who only asked boring questions and provided fan-like fodder and praise. The overpaid football players expected that. They felt entitled to fawning adulation everywhere they went.

But they certainly wouldn’t be getting that from me.

As I anxiously paced across the ornate rug which covered the expansive floor, I did a final review of my notes to prepare for today’s episode, reading my lines aloud.

“From Star Quarterback to Washed Up: The Decline of Luke Dalton’s Glory Days.”

Harsh, but fair.

“Luke Dalton: More Drama Off the Field Than On It.”

Okay, maybe notentirelyfair.

But fair enough.

Ready, I rushed over to my new makeshift podcast station to begin recording. It was an improvised mess of cables and equipment, but it would have to make do until I could replace what was broken in today’s balloon incident. Fortunately, the home office down the hall was the perfect space to record in peace, with plenty of room for my setup and far enough away from Stacy.

Luckily, my laptop was still in working condition despite the crack that now stretched a quarter of the way across the screen. I’d need to rush out and replace it tomorrow.Afterdiscussing my financial loss with this Leonard character. I couldn’t help but be a bit nervous about confronting a balloon-launching, cape-donning millionaire. Luke said he thought Leonard would be reasonable, but how could I trust that after I’d just falsely accused Luke?

Shit… now he’s going to think this is personal.

But it wasn’t personal—none of it. Accusing Luke was an honest mistake, and besides, the look on his face made it clear he hated me enough to do it after everything I’d said about him. He was going to be just fine in his absurd glass mansion, no matter what I said on my show.

But somehow it felt different now that he was the man next door and not just some guy in the highlight reels. The balloon incident wasn’t professional, but I had a strong feeling that an apology would only make things worse, especially once I stopped procrastinating and finished recording.

My notes were scattered all around the large mahogany desk in the fancy office. I sat and looked out through the window. Beyond, the Pacific Ocean beckoned with its blue waters and gently crashing waves.

Damn, I thought,what kind of dream office has a view of the beach?

I powered up my laptop and listened to the familiar ding to notify me that it was booting. Before I could get started, the doorbell rang.

Fuck. I hope it’s Luke.

I jumped to my feet.

Wait, no, I hope it’snotLuke!

I couldn’t get my story straight in my own mind, how the hell was I going to spend a summer next to this man?

I hurried to the door and looked through the peep hole to see that it was Claire—huge bag in one hand and phone in the other.

It wasn’t like Claire to show up unannounced, and I immediately wondered if something was wrong.

“Claire?” I asked as I pulled the door open. “What’s going on?”

---