Page 3 of Houston, We Have a Problem
So far, I’ve been lucky, and the few Enhance journalists I’ve spoken to all love me. I mean, I’ve hardly given anyone a reasonnotto love me. I’ve never done anything to get on their bad side, and I don’t plan on changing that now. I’ll take on any of their journalists as long as it’s not…
I stop dead the moment I step into the tent and get a sudden sense of unease.
I don’t know what it is about Tamlin Park, but I know it’s her waiting for me even before I see her, though see her I do. It would be hardnotto see her. As always, the sight of her in that skintight black dress and heels as she speaks to her cameraman has me frozen, my breath stuck in my lungs. It’s like she sucks the oxygen out of a room, suffocating every athlete within a fifty-foot radius, and she does it with a smile. A drop-dead gorgeous smile, sure, but it’s the kind of smile that ends careers. I should count myself lucky that I haven’t had to personally face her before now, but I guess it’s time to meet my doom.
Unless I can pretend I forgot why I came in here?
Unfortunately for me, Roundy is too good at his job, and he notices my hesitation immediately. “Are you going or what?” he asks without looking up from his phone. “We don’t have all night.”
My attempt at speaking Tamlin’s name comes out in a curse I’m not allowed to say on live TV.
Roundy glances up. “Don’t make me grab the soap again, Briggs.” He doesn’t personally care when I swear, but ever since meeting my twin sister a couple of years ago, he’s been fuelingher drive to clean up my language. It’s both annoying and endearing.
He looks around the tent in search of the source of my reluctance. “Why aren’t you—oh.” His whole face twists in discomfort, which doesn’t exactly leave me feeling very confident. “I thought it was Jacobsen covering the Series.”
“Clearly not,” I growl. Ted Jacobsen would have been a walk in the park, especially because he’s a Red-tails fan. He’s the kind of guy I’d take out for a beer after a game and talk about golf and the price of ground beef.
But Tamlin Park? She eats athletes like me for breakfast. She’s only been reporting for Enhance for a couple of years, but that’s been plenty of time for her to make a name for herself as a ruthless shark.
Roundy shifts on his feet as both of us watch her carefully. She’s happily chatting with her cameraman, all smiles. To anyone who hasn’t seen some of her stories, she looks warm and friendly, and I’ll admit a small part of me wonders if she’ll keep this interview lighthearted. She can’t possibly have any dirt on me, so I’ve got nothing to be afraid of. Still, my heart pounds in my chest, and my feet are glued to the floor, even as something inside me feels drawn to her like she’s got some silent siren call.
“She doesn’t look that bad,” Roundy mutters, cocking his head to one side.
I mirror him, and I can only imagine how we look right now, both of us with our heads tilted, staring at the gorgeous woman whose laugh rings out over the other conversations in the tent. I doubt we’re the only ones captivated. Something about her is almost mesmerizing.
“This feels like a bad idea, Roundy,” I say, but Tamlin chooses that moment to look my way.
It’s like a switch flips.
Her unnervingly blue eyes narrow, telling me she’s seen me, and her little smirk sparks the part of me that can’t back down from a challenge. The friendly, smiling woman is gone, the predator in her place.
“Uhhh…” Clearly floundering, Roundy searches the tent for an escape. But he knows better than anyone that I need to make this appearance. There’s no telling what Tamlin might say if I make myself scarce, and she probably already has the nation captivated with her intense beauty as she starts speaking into her microphone. There’s something so alluring about her long dark hair paired with those almost unnaturally blue eyes that makes her impossible not to watch. Either her outward charm is all a facade, or the shark is a front, but she is not one to mess around with.
I groan. I’m too tired to deal with this right now. “I’m giving her two minutes. And then you’d better be getting me the hell out of there.”
“Language,” he reminds me limply, but I’m already marching to my death.
Tamlin gives me her carnivorous smile as I step into the camera’s view, not wasting any time as she jumps right into it with her silky voice. “And here is the man of the hour. So, Houston, what’s your take on how well the Red-tails played tonight?”
I grit my teeth. She’s clearly looking for a sign of weakness, and I won’t give it to her. I’ve seen the way she takes down athletes by knowing way more than she should, and I will not be one of her kills. “We won,” I say.
“Barely,” she replies. “Some might say you were looking pretty tired in the eighth inning.”
My response catches in my throat as soon as I register her words. Anyone would be tired after pitching seven straight innings, but the way she said that… Does she already knowmy arm’s going out? Panic rises in my chest as I fight for a deflection. “Are you forgetting that strikeout I threw?”
“Right before Dalton hit that home run and pulled the Burrs into the lead? That strikeout?” She says this without her smile wavering, and it’s unnerving how inhuman she feels. What happened to the woman who was joking around a moment ago? I’ve seen her do this with other athletes, poking and prodding until something shakes loose, and now I understand how no one is able to throw her off. She’s terrifying.
“Luckily for me,” I say, shaking off the tension building in my shoulders, “I’ve got a good team behind me, and we regained the lead pretty—”
“So you admit the rest of the team had to make up for your subpar performance?”
My jaw locks up, nerves settling hot and heavy in my stomach. This feels like a trap. Iknowit’s a trap. “That isn’t what I—”
“What do you say to all the people who think you’re losing your touch in your old age?”
A curse sits on the tip of my tongue, threatening to break free, but Brooklyn would kill me if she heard some of the things I want to say to this woman. My twin probably hasn’t watched one of my interviews in years, but she is unerringly sweet and really doesn’t like it when I swear. And I hate disappointing her. Heaven knows I’ve done it way too often lately.
Tamlin is looking at me like she’s already won, and I know I shouldn’t give in to her taunting. This is her job, and there’s a reason she gets paid big money to interview athletes. She digs under our skin and gets the answers she wants, leaving us wounded and full of holes as she moves on to her next strike. I don’t know what game she’s playing or who she really is beneath this ice cold exterior, but I am so sick of her smug grin. She needs to know she doesn’t have any power here.
