Page 6 of King of Hearts

“Three of them are wearing wedding rings, Marls, and the other has an imprint as if he recently took his off. Again, reinforcing my point, douchebag city. I just want syzygy, ya know?” Turning away from them, I grabbed my long hair and pulled it over my shoulder to put some small barrier between us.

“I literally have no idea what that means. Sometimes I wonder if you’ve had a thesaurus implanted in your brain.” Marlee rolled her eyes again before scanning the QR code to order us another round of drinks.

“You know, like a genuine connection. I wish I could just ‘tap and gap’ as that knob said a few months ago on yetanothermiserable date, but I can’t. I just can’t, Marlee.” I whined, throwing my hands in the air. I really was done with the meaningless dinner dates with painful small talk and me fleeing to my car in the hope they didn’t try to kiss me. Plus, I funded far too many of those meals and on the one occasion I decided to give the guy a chance beyond dinner, he took me to his parent’s house. His mum offered me a cup of tea for fuck’s sake. I was starting to wonder if Taylor Swift wrote her song about me and I was, in fact, the problem.

Marlee raised her voice over the music now playing as karaoke finished for another night. “Fine. We both have work tomorrow so let’s enjoy the night with another round before you have to go home to your voyeuristic roommate.”

“Ugh, speaking of work, did I tell you Dickhead Darren emailed me this afternoon to tell me I was going to be doing a full feature interview and article.”

“What, even after you practically gagged on your lust last time and got absolutely nothing from Andrew Gloss?” Marlee giggled as the bartender came over with another round of shots and two margaritas. My head was going to give me grief tomorrow but right now I couldn’t have cared less. Being out with my number one girl always made things better and it was hard not to be swept up in her bubble of positivity. “But also, an interview and article. What the heck, girl. This is HUGE.”

“Right! Not sure what happened because if you remember, Darren apologised tomefor the stuff up and I just nodded and never brought it up again. I’m still perplexed by it all. I did try again to remind him I am aneditornot a writer, but he wouldn’t listen. Just told me I needed to get my shit together including my hair apparently.” I creased my brows in exaggerated disgust.

“What the hell is wrong with your hair?” She questioned.

“Who knows. He is such a prick.”

“I will never understand how he is able to get away with the things he says to you.” She said and I nodded in agreement. “You know,” she continued, “I follow the Heart’s social media religiously – obviously, and he hasn’t done another interview all season. Even today when he kicked the match winning goal and we are all desperate to hear what the bloody looker has to say. But the network won’t even approach him and other than the photos they snap of him with the lucky thirst traps, he is rarely seen in public.” Marlee picked up her shot glass indicating it was time to drink.

“He is pure sin that guy.” I said more to myself than Marls, thinking about the way his sweat had slowly dripped down his olive chest and how tempted I was to lean in and lick him. Shaking away the memory, I brought my glass up to meet hers. “Cheers to the only wet pussy I will have tonight.” Marlee laughed and we drank the peach, vodka and cranberry shot, before I added, “The interview tomorrow is with him again. That gorgeous, infuriating, angry man. Like it makes no sense, why would old mate Dazza send me to do it after I so royally fucked it up the first time?”

“Are you serious? You get to interview himagain.He hates the media andyouget to be the one to do this! Do you know how many people would kill to be you? Yet you’re sitting here getting drunk.” Marlee squealed and began shaking me by the arms. “Why can’t I be an editor slash writer slash interviewer? Obviously one who doesn’t need to write, because – well, gross. But this is my dream. Life is so unfair.” She said dramatically, throwing her arm across her forehead as if she was suffering life’s greatest tragedy.

Laughing, I motioned for her to stand before grabbing her arm and looping it through my own. “Honestly, I won’t even try to understand your fascination, other than his devastating good looks. But I’ll put in a good word and tell him you’re his biggest fan. Maybe I can even get his number for you.”

“Don’t you dare! I would need a puffer just to breathe.” She said, her face serious.

Heading towards the dance floor, I winked at her and tried to ignore the trepidation sitting low in my stomach at the mere thought of Marlee dating Andy.

I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about him since that abomination of an interview. There was something about that chiselled jaw and the small laugh lines which shaped his eyes that screamed at me to climb aboard and enjoy the ride. Even though he answered none of my questions and left with no apology or explanation. That evening, I had spent hours searching for a new job because I thought when I arrived at work the next morning, Darren was going to have already packed my desk and my name would be besmirched within the industry.

Imagine my absolute shock whenheapologised tome. I didn’t want to tempt fate and seek clarification so I simply accepted the apology and continued with my day. And now, three months later, he was again asking me to complete an interview, at a location to be advised tomorrow morning. It was ridiculously secretive and confusing as all heck. I mean, I was glad I didn’t lose my job, but Andy was still an A-grade jerk in my eyes. Despite the connection I felt when his fingers had caressed my lip, something I hadn’t dared admit to anyone, he was unresponsive and insolent with my questioning. He would have known I was out of my depth and nonetheless his insouciance remained. When I met with him tomorrow, I was determined to match his attitude. I would ignore the way he awakened the deepest parts of me and I would focus on keeping my job. But if he treated me like he did last time, I was going to pepper him with a little taste of my own fire.

“I give up, Marls. I have no clothes. I’m going to this interview in my pyjamas. I mean I wore sweats last time so it can’t be worse than that.” I scowled at the clothes lining my unmade bed and the floor. “I’m literally in my bra and undies wearing one boot and one sandal.”

“Just relax, babe. Where are you meeting him?” My call woke her up only a few minutes ago and I was jealous that she was blissfully still in bed and not freaking out about an appointment which could see her with no job by the end of the day. My eyes felt as though they were hanging out of my head, mostly due to my incessant scrolling through social media last night. In my infinite drunken wisdom, I thought it appropriate to dedicate at least an hour to reading up on Mr. Andrew Gloss and the Hearts Football Club. However, my now sober mind was both foggy with fatigue yet lucid enough to frustratingly remind me of how mildly impressed I was with what I read. Other than seeing him pictured with a different goddess on his arm in every single photo off the field, he didn’t appear to be engrossed in scandals. He maintained a mostly private existence, other than the few interviews he had given since he first started playing, and even those were generic in content. The media often painted him as ‘rude’ and ‘difficult’ which I could also attest to after I met him. Although, he was never seen drinking or partying, which was enough to spark my curiosity. There were plenty of pictures and articles on players from the Hearts and many other football teams enjoying a night out, yet Mr. Captain was either never in attendance, or sober and photographed leaving much earlier than the rest of his peers.

“Arns, you still there?” Marlee asked and I ran my hands through my hair.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “I don’t even know where I’m going. It’s an address in the city somewhere, but I’m not too sure. Maybe it’s a café or their head office or something. Looks like it will only take me twenty minutes to get there though. But anyway, what do I wear?” If I wasn’t using my earbuds, I most definitely would have thrown my phone in frustration.

“You realise you are asking the wrong person, right? I have absolutely no fashion sense – as you like to remind me. The fact you are even asking me is a huge red flag for where your head’s at.”

“You’re right. Okay, I’m going to wear my navy pencil skirt, white blouse and flats. Comfortable but professional. I want to appear both proficient but also scream,please scratch Barbara’s itch.” I giggled at what was mostly a joke, as I reached for the skirt.

“If Barbara meets Andy Gloss and I don’t, I will cry. But also, I really hope she does. You’re living the dream, Arns.”

“I was kidding. I don’t think he has much going on between the ears – a crying shame really based on the packaging. Okay, I need to get dressed.”

“I should go shower too. Pleasssseee call me as soon as you are done, I need to know everything.” I could hear her moving around and knew her phone was clutched between her shoulder and face with the way her voice was slightly muffled now.

“Okay, have an amazing day, wish me luck.” I said, reaching for my phone and ending the call as Marlee did just that. I tucked the blouse into my skirt and adjusted it so it sat evenly. The outfit was simple but still highlighted my hourglass figure, giving me the confidence I needed to face the silent assassin. There was no way I was going to show him a disorganised and tumultuous mess like last time.

Today he was getting editor Arna and my entire persona was going to scream,I am a journalist and I will not betaking your shit, thank you. Throwing my hair into its regular updo and securing it with a pen, I grabbed my bag and headed for the interview that was either going to make or break me.

Chapter Four

Andy

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