Page 71 of Your Secret to Keep

I walk into Megan’s office, which is how we always start our week, and am caught off guard by the sight of our general manager sitting across from her.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll come back later,” I stammer and almost stumble as I stop, like the floor of her office is lava.

She stands quickly. “No, no. We both want to meet with you.”

Why? Panic sprints through my veins and I immediately start to sweat.

Megan smiles warmly. “Have you met Trent Jones?”

No. Why would I have met Trent Jones, the youngest general manager in the NBA? As I’m being sarcastic in a place only I can hear, he stands.

“Lia, it’s great to meet you,” he exclaims. “Trent Jones. Take a seat.”

Fuck. They know about me and Brooks. It’s over. I’m about to get fired. I sit down and wait for the worst to come.

“First, I want to say thank you,” Trent begins. “The way you stepped in the other night to help with the game was incredible. I’ve never heard anything like it. Neither have any of my owner friends.”

Huh… what a weird way to start letting someone go.

“Not only did you step in, but you were good. I asked Megan to pull your job application so I could see your previous jobhistory, but there’s nothing on here that indicates you’ve done this professionally. So, why don’t you tell me about that?” he asks.

This isn’t where I saw this going. I take a deep breath before replying, “I’ve been obsessed with basketball, specifically the Jags, since I was a kid. When I noticed there were jobs in this area, I started practicing. It’s embarrassing, but I’d turn on a game, mute it, and call it like I was in the booth.”

Trent looks at Megan, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “That. That right there is incredible. You’re passionate. You love the game,” he emphasizes.

“Yes, sir,” I say.

Trent laughs. “Please, don’t call me sir. It makes me feel like I’m eighty years old.”

Megan jumps in. “She’s been amazing with the social media accounts she’s taken over.”

“I know that. My owners also called about the dog campaign you got underway. Do you know that over fifteen NBA teams have made donations?” he shares with us. “You’ve made a real difference.”

Maybe I’mnotgetting fired?

“Thank you,” I reply. “I appreciate the kind words. Learning from Megan has been an amazing experience. I love it here.” I shrug my shoulders and set my hands in my lap, my knuckles bone white from squeezing them together.

“Second,” Trent continues, “because you were so good, I wanted to see if you’d be open to other opportunities during games. Maybe some on-court interviews between commercial breaks or quarters. Or even including that as part of your home game wrap up?”

“You mean letting me on the court to talk to Jags players after? I’d love it.”

“Not only Jags players. Any players, really. As long as we let everyone know our protocol, all the teams will be cool with it.”

My mouth hangs open. I don’t know what to say. How to react.

Megan saves me. “Lia, you’d be great. It’s so refreshing to meet another woman like you; someone who loves the game and talks about it with such enthusiasm. We think it’s a great move to include highlighting women in sports.”

A tear falls down my cheek and I don’t move to wipe it away. Megan and Trent see it, smile, and somehow I find a tissue in my hand. I dab my eyes and then fan them, trying to keep the rest of my tears at bay.

Sighing out a breath, I ask, “Are you being serious?” My voice is squeaky with emotion, but I don’t care.

“Yes. I want to keep you with the Jags as long as we can,” Trent proclaims. “People like you are rare. Those who jump in and do whatever it takes.”

Wow. More tears fall because I can’t believe it. I’ve always been proud of my work ethic but to hear someone else—someone like Megan or Trent—call it out this way is next level.

“Yes. One hundred percent yes.”

Megan stands and walks over to me, standing with her arms out for a hug. I stand and hug her back. Trent reaches for a handshake, which I take and maybe squeeze his hand too hard but I’m so excited.

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