Page 19 of Wild Catch
But then where do I go? Who’s going to hire me? Sports social media teams tend to be pretty small. Like, it’s just Dave and me in here and we just interface with the graphic designers, producers, and so on.
Dave. Who is supposed to be going into surgery any time today. And instead called me in for a meeting with his boss. That I’m late to.
This has to be bad.
I’m about ready to upchuck the breakfast I had on the plane when I barge into Tom’s office. Surely that would be the cherry on top.
“I’m so sorry I’m late I didn’t realize we had this meeting and we caught all the morning traffic on I-4 and?—”
“Breathe, Rosalina,” Tom instructs, using his hands in the universal gesture ofcalm the heck down, you freaking weirdo.
I take a deep breath. Then another.
“I’m sorry for being late,” I repeat a lot less winded.
Dave’s voice comes out from the speakers. “Don’t worry about that. I wasn’t sure when you arrived but I’m going into surgery soon, so I thought I should YOLO.” Someone should tell him that YOLO is a thing of the past, but that someone won’t be me today.
“Um, first of all are you okay, calling from the hospital? And second, is this because I’m getting fired?”
“Fired?” Dave exclaims.
Tom blows a raspberry in the most professional way possible, which is to say not a lot. “Where did you get that idea from?”
“The circumstances are kind of scary for any employee, and that’s excluding the fact that I’m on probation,” I say very clearly, not missing a beat, even though my heart is hammering like a rabbit’s.
It’s thanks to the broadcasting journalism training I got in college. Maybe I should plaster on my Miss Florida pageant smile too. It might help me get out of trouble.
“Girl, we don’t care about your probation, remember?” Dave asks and I can practically hear him roll his eyes.
“Besides, we only put you on it to appease HR.” Tom folds his arms and leans back on his chair. “The post with the players defending Starr and Garcia’s romance is one of our most viral in history. It even brought in new sponsors.”
“Right. From a marketing perspective it was a success,” Dave adds, including a little cough. “Even if the method was unorthodox.”
“And that’s why we’re disappointed in you right now,” Tom throws that from left field.
“Whoa,” is all I manage to say and collapse on one of the chairs across his desk. “So Iamgetting sacked.”
Dave’s tone shifts to a deadpan. “For the last time, no. But we’re surprised at how your instincts failed this time.”
I drop my face in my hands. “Please put me out of my misery and explain it to me like I’m five.”
Tom chuckles, which from him is a series of snorts through his nose. “Dave, will you do the honors?”
“Certainly,” my boss picks up from there. “So last night while I was in the hospital room bored out of my mind next to a random stranger who doesn’t want to socialize with me?—”
An unknown voice from his end of the line says, “Whatever.”
But Dave continues. “I was scrolling through TikTok and came across a video about you.”
“What?” My face snaps up.
In less than a second, my mind flashes through every single possibility. The time I tripped during the swimsuit portion of the Miss Florida pageant. When I was in college and got turned into a meme after I was filmed eating an ice cream cone during a game with my college baseball team.
Or worse, Ben Williams. The worst of my exes. Does he have some incriminating footage?
But no. I’d really get canned then, and Dave and Tom have already reassured me that’s not the case.
“I could tell it was you from your hair,” my boss keeps saying without noticing my lapse, “but the one we see the clearest is Logan Kim saving you from a fly ball.”
