Page 6 of In the Defensive Zone with My Enemy

“Marty asked me to come in sooner.” I lift a single brow, knowing she’ll get my point.

Her eyes widen, and her lips make a circle, making her resemble that surprised emoji face she loves to use when she texts. Anytime she sends it, I invariably picture this image and laugh.

“Yeah, wish me luck.” I flash her a smile before striding toward Marty’s office.

He lifts a finger as I walk in to inform me he’s on a call. The man always wears his AirPods, so we never know if he’s talking on the phone or listening to a news feed.

I slip into the chair in front of his desk and fold my hands in my lap to wait. I may have caught my breath, but my heart’s still pounding like a percussion drum. For once, I’m glad he has those things in his ears because I’m almost convinced he could hear it, too.

“Great. We’ll get this started tomorrow, then.” Marty ends the call, then faces me and actually removes his AirPods—something he only does when he has big news.

And me getting my own column is big. Huge. Ginormous. This is it! The moment I’ve been dreaming about for weeks.

I take a deep, relaxing breath and put a smile in place. “You said you needed to see me?”

His gray-blue eyes sparkle as he grins. “I have some fantastic news for you, Sophie.”

I let out a nervous giggle as I clasp my hands to my chest. Who cares if I make a fool of myself? I got THE COLUMN.

“This is so great, Marty. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

His smile dips a little. “But I haven’t even told you the news yet.”

I stretch out my palms. “I assumed it’s about my proposal.”

He waves my words away. “Oh, that. No, we’ll discuss that another time. This is bigger. A specific assignment just for you.”

Talk about the bottom falling out. But I’m not ready to give up. “So is a column about the undiscovered gems in Sarabella. From food, to shops, to the arts?—”

He tilts his head. “I’m aware of the slogan. I read your proposal.”

“And?”

Marty gentles his voice. “Not yet, Soph. You need a little more experience under your belt.”

I shift to the front of my chair and lean over the edge of his desk. “I have lots of experience, Marty. At this rate, I’m going to need another notch to loosen it. Please, I really want this.”

“I know you do, kiddo. But I promise what I have for you will go a long way in helping you get there. Trust me, okay?” Hard to resist the man when he uses his fatherly tone.

Marty has known me since I was a baby. He and my father worked together as reporters in Washington, DC. Then, after years of working on various papers, they both landed here in Sarabella. I grew up in this newsroom and caught the journalism bug while watching my father hammer out his articles. Marty and his wife, Clara, did a stellar job filling the gap left behind after my mother died when I was five.

So, of course, I trust him. But I’m desperate for this dream. Borderline psychotic, one could even say. Letting go of it in any small way feels so risky…like a setup for disappointment. But Marty has been like a father to me for the last five years since Dad passed away without warning. I know he has my best interest at heart.

I flop back in my chair. “Fine. Let me have it.”

“Remember the piece you did about Rebecca Piedmont?”

“Yes, of course.”

“She wants to up the team’s reputation and build a connection with the fans. She was so impressed with what you wrote that she’s requested you follow the team and do profiles on the new coach, the staff, and the players.”

I slap my hands on the chair's arms and push up from the seat. “Nope, don’t want it.”

He stares up at me with mild shock. “But she asked for you, Soph. This is a big deal. Besides, you covered sports in college. You have experience.”

I lean my hands on the edge of his desk. “And I hated it. I’ve no interest in sports. Give it to Simon. He follows everything that includes a ball, a bat, or a stick.”

And a skirt, but I don’t say that part out loud.

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