Page 39 of West Bound

“I know. I’m just razzing you, Harv.” I lean forward and swipe a candy from the dish he usually hides in his desk drawer. The bowl only comes out when he’s got something to spring on one of us. Usually not of the happy variety.

“So what’s the bad news you're springing me with? Am I getting demoted? Are you switching me around with Rendon and I’ve got to do a piece on the best hemorrhoid creams?”

He grabs a few candies of his own before plopping into his leather chair. The poor thing creaks in agony, like it’s about to wave the white flag and beg for mercy.

“You know I’d never punish you with Rendon’s job. Not even if you snatched my Barrett from under me. That jackass is a special kind of stupid,” he says, but all I can picture is Jarvis’ husband under him and it sends a wave of nausea running up through my throat that I swallow down with another candy.

“So then what’s the bad news, Harvey-boy.” He gives me an annoyed look when I call him by the nickname I know he hates, but love to say anyway.

With a deep breath he pulls the candy bowl away from and places it back in his drawer.

“No bad news, kiddo. Just want to share your new assignment.” I sit up straight and swallow down the un-chewed bits of candy that were still sitting in my mouth.

“New assignment? But Harv, I just got the on-field correspondent position at the start of the season. What are you talking about?”

“Calm down. It’s nothing like you’re thinking. I should’ve said that it is an additional assignment. A good one.”

He sits there as I wait for him to elaborate which he does not, and I crack.

“Well tell me, already. You’re torturing me just sittin’ there with the smug grin like Barrett is hiding under your desk, giving you your afternoon bj.”

With a roll of his eyes, he finally continues. “We’ve decided–and by we I mean myself and the Wranglers organization–that you will be reporting from away games for the remainder of the season.”

I cough and start to choke on the cherry flavored saliva that has pooled in my mouth.

“All of the away games? Harv…that means there will be times that I’m on the road for weeks. I can’t live out of my suitcase for weeks at a time. My shoes would never forgive me if I chose only a few to take with me. My hair, Harv. I have very picky hair and there is no way I can risk dulling my shiny locks with horrible, recycled hotel water. Imagine how that would look on camera.”

“Vivian, will you calm down. Jesus, you’re a drama queen.” He slides his drawer open and pulls out another candy, tossing it over to me. “You will not be going to every away game. Just one from each series. We’ve already figured out a schedule.”

He slides a printed schedule to me with a detailed itinerary for the remaining seven weeks of the regular season. They’ve made it so that I will report on the last game of one series, travel with the team, and report on the first game of the next series. It’s not as much travel as I originally assumed which has me breathing a sigh of relief.

“Now that you’re calmer, does this slight change sound okay?”

“Yes. It does. Sorry about the freak-out.”

His mouth forms a tight line and he shakes his head. “Your first away game is Wednesday and while I know this seems last minute, I promise that the final details were just hammered out this weekend. I assumed you were nursing a hangover yesterday, so I didn’t bother calling you.”

“You assumed correctly, fine sir,” I say in my best English accent.

Dammit CeCe, and all of her stupid BBC shows.

“Alright, kiddo. We’re done here. Finish up whatever you need to do today, and stay home tomorrow to pack.”

I stand slowly and give him my most annoying smirk. “Harv…are you giving me the day off?”

“Absolutely not. You know I don’t give days off.” His lips tug up slightly and he gives me a sly wink. “Now get outta here before I send you with Rendon to cover a mutton busting event.”

I give him a salute and quickly exit his office. I’d rather have my fingernails pulled off with pliers by a mafioso than do anything with Dan.

I amble off the plane and out into the terminal, my carry-on rattling behind me. The flight from Texas to Ohio was the worst I’ve ever and probably will ever experience in my life.

Normally I can tune out lots of distractions. My job requires me to be hyper focused on the details. But today was not one of those days where I could just tune out static and zero in on what was important, which just happened to be catching up on highlights from last night's game.

The family behind me, which consisted of a mom and dad and the cutest little boy, started off as normal. They settled into their seats, gave the little nugget a snack and put on a movie on his iPad. I was stuck in the middle seat, so that meant the little bugger was directly behind me. Which was fine because he was small, and seemed to be ready for a movie and a nap.

Where shall I start?

The mom quickly dozed off and the dad was so lost in work or whatever he was doing on his laptop, that he failed to notice that his kid had pulled the headphones out of the jack and the music to Baby Shark was blasting throughout the plane. When I looked over my shoulder, I saw that the dad had what looked like noise canceling headphones, which explained why he wasn’t shoving his fingers in his ears like the rest of us.

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