So, if I can use the connections I have to maybe pick up some sponsor deals on ClikClak, then so be it, especially when those connections kidnap me to make the videos in the first place.
It only takes about fifteen minutes to get to Hynes Convention Center, where the expo is being held. I use every single one of those minutes furiously jotting notes down in my trusty notebook for things I can make videos about. I’ve got tons of ideas. We park in the garage and then walk down Dalton Street to Boylston.
Okay, so I’ll miss this when I move. There’s nothing like the energy of Downtown Boston, especially Back Bay. There used to be a really fun restaurant across from Hynes that had a drink called a cactus bowl. It was as big as my head.
I’m guessing they don’t have anything in Binghamton like that.
I pull out my phone and start recording.
I’m heading into Hynes Convention Center for the Health and Wellness Expo. Proceeds from this event go to help support youth sports in Jamaica Plain and other underfunded areas of the greater Boston community. This is a cause near and dear to my heart. Believe it or not, at one time, I was a D1 athlete. I grew up on recreational and travel teams, eventually parlaying that into a full scholarship for a Division 1 college. Those sports get expensive fast! Let’s help out some kids fund their dreams to play!
I don’t need to give too much detail, but some personal touches can’t hurt. I stop walking while I add captions, a title, and my hashtags before uploading it to ClikClak. Brandon keeps walking, but Landon stops to wait for me.
“You don’t have to wait. You delivered me. I’m sure I’ll find Ophelia somewhere. Plus, I want to wander around and get ideas for content. But thanks anyway. That’s sweet of you.”
Landon looks at Carlos, whose facial expression can best be described as “deer in headlights.” This is so not his zone. “Um, I have strict marching orders to get you to the signing area.”
“Signing area? Who’s signing?” I look around for some clues. There are five major sports teams in the Boston area, so there are a lot of possibilities. “Is Ophelia with Xavier? Is he signing?”
He’s an odd choice for the Buzzards, considering he only officially joined the team in recent months. They’ve only played one game. A win over the Sacramento Saints. I didn’t watch it. We walk through the main lobby before turning into the large exhibit hall.
It’s an absolute bustle of noise and energy. I take video footage to edit later. I have a feeling I won’t be experiencing anything like this again anytime soon. We follow the signs that say “Signings This Way.” Maybe, if everything goes well at WYBM, in a few years I can get a job for a Boston station and come back here.
Hopefully, by then I’ll have finally forgotten all about Callaghan Entay.
And there he is, right in front of me.
As if thinking of him conjured him to life, right in front of my eyes.
To be accurate, he’s sitting at a table between Dinaly Maxstud from the New England Patriots and four-time golden glover Sam Travers from the Red Sox. Doug Ellersby from the Celtics and Jean-Luc Patrice of the Bruins round out this all-star quintet.
Part of my brain is short-circuiting with the absolute sports talent in this room. The other is raging thathe’spart of that group. And my heart—alas, she’s shattering into a thousand pieces all over again.
He’ll never not take my breath away.
I want to look around for Ophelia, but I can’t tear my gaze off him. That magnet pull is as strong as ever. I’m not sure moving three hundred miles away will be far enough. Maybe I should see if there are any sports reporting jobs open in Alaska.
Instead, I do the mature, responsible thing.
I turn around and attempt to leave.
Except I crash into the brick wall otherwise known as Brandon Nix.
“Um, where you going?” He puts his hands on his hips, his stance wide.
“I’m leaving. I don’t want to be here.” I start to move, but he moves with me, blocking my way.
“Here’s the thing,” he starts. “I don’t know you at all.”
“Then why are you involved in this?” We’re continuing to do our bob and weave. Unfortunately for me, my soccer days are in the past, and Brandon’s one of the best at cutting and weaving.
“Because I asked for his help.” Callaghan’s voice is close behind me. I’ve nowhere to go. They’ve essentially got me boxed in.
“This is you? Ophelia didn’t do this?” Rage rockets through me. “What the hell?”
“I asked for her help too. I didn’t want you to figure it out beforehand.”
I’m so confused as to what’s going on. What is Callaghan up to? Why is he enlisting all these people? Better yet, why are they helping him? I fire off those questions in that order.
