I laugh. “What? That it would work?” My ClikClak following is over three-hundred thousand at this point and growing by the day. I think the only national event I’ll get hired to call will be the Puppy Bowl, but it’s a start.
I mean, WYBM basically told me that my content was why they wanted me. They saw what I would look like on camera and how I would sound. Carlos’s plan was a success.
It does, however, mean I’m moving to Binghamton, New York. That’s not super ideal, but there is a bright side. There will be no chance encounters with Callaghan Entay.
Hell, he doesn’t even know I’m leaving. I blocked him on everything, so he can’t get in contact with me. Not that he would try. No, he’s too busy being high and mighty, only thinking about himself.
“I still think you should come with me. Do you know I have to do my own makeup and wardrobe when I’m on air?” They do have a team of hairstylists, but I’m left to figure everything out for myself.
“Girl, you can’t afford my services.”
He’s right. His ClikClak has exploded as well, and he’s getting sponsored deals left and right. His idea was a rousing success. Now if he’d only come up with it a few months earlier, I could have avoided getting entangled with Callaghan Entay again and spared myself a ton of heartache.
It sucks to have feelings for someone who doesn’t deserve them. He never has and he never will. But I can’t seem to stop myself from feeling them any more than I can stop myself from breathing.
I look around the apartment. I have a lot of packing left to do before I pick up the U-Haul on Monday. I’ve hired a few strong bodies to help me load up the big stuff. Once I get the truck packed, I’m on the road.
My sister and her husband are meeting me in New York since it coincides with the April break they have as schoolteachers. Between the three of us, I should be able to get settled before I start work in a week.
My life is finally coming together.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
The knocking on the door makes both Carlos and me jump. “Expecting someone?” he asks.
I shake my head. “You?”
Carlos says, “Maybe it’s your man, trying to make amends.”
“I don’t have a man. Go look through the peephole. Maybe it’s for you.”
“Hannah LaRosa? Are you in there?” I don’t recognize the voice.
“Shit, what if it’s the wrong apartment?” Another voice responds.
“It’s 11 Franklin Street, right? Go downstairs and check the mailbox.”
“I’m sure. I read it on the way in.”
“Can you even read? You go check the mailbox.”
“I read to your momma every night when she’s going down on me.”
Carlos and I stare at each other as we hear what sounds like a tussle on the other side of the door. There’s grunting and foot scuffing and a loud thud as someone apparently slams into the wall.
That does it. I pull open the door and yell, “Listen, you knuckleheads, if I lose my share of the security deposit, I will hunt you down and make you pay for it.”
If you’d have told me we were about to be robbed by a group of Irish mobsters from Southie, I would have believed it. If you had told me it was a group of neighborhood teens high on pot, I’d have believed that too.
But I do not believe my own eyes as I stare at Brandon Nix holding Landon Stubbs in a headlock outside my door. Why would two players from the Boston Buzzards be here?
“Are you two even serious right now?” I put my hands on my hips, feeling like a mother with petulant children. I imagine this must be how Coach Janssen feels quite often if their conversation outside my door is any indication.
No wonder Callaghan pushed so hard for high standards. These yahoos could blow everything in a heartbeat.
They both straighten up. Landon looks me up and down. “You’re Hannah, right? From ClikClak?”
I nod. Why are they here and how did they find me? “What do you want?”
