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Harper
“I can’t believe I agreed to do this for you.”
I give my friend an innocent smile to make up for the corner I’ve backed her in with my request.
“I know, babes, but you love me. And you’re not just doing it for me, but Hannah and the girls, too. That’s the only reason I’m exploiting the hell out of you.” I pull the phone close to my face and purse my lips into a kiss to my long-time friend and former college roommate, Jade Russell.
Although we’re on video chat and over four hours apart, she always feels close. We may have gone our separate ways after college graduation years ago, when I stayed in Spokane to begin my broadcasting career, and Jade moved to Seattle to begin building her business in the sports fitness industry, we are still thick as thieves. And in this case, we really are in cahoots.
With a gigantic sigh to signal her resignation, she lowers her voice to a stealthy, secretive level that only I can hear.
“Okay, fine. I’m doing this for Hannah.Notyour career,” Jade asserts, even though we both know they are concurrent needs. The only way I can help my sister financially is if my career flourishes. And that won’t happen if I stay here in Spokane.
She turns her head to look around her before she spills the details I’ve begged her to give me. “He generally works out on Mondays, Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays between 6:00 a.m. and 7:30 when he’s not on the road for away games. It’s not a sure thing because he does skip some appointments, but for the most part, he’s fairly consistent. I double-checked Lars’s past training schedule to confirm.”
I scribble down the times on my notepad, underlining the time of morning I’m not all that fond of. Thank God Seattle was made on a foundation of coffee.
“Jade, you know you’re a lifesaver. Like, literally. If I can even snag thirty seconds of his time, I know I can score the interview. Then I suppose, instead of just my BFF, I’ll have to promote you to the title of MVP.”
Jade barks out a laugh. “Damn right you will, girl. I expect a personalized T-shirt with glittery letters on the front.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I still have to secure that interview.”
“Do I detect a hint of doubt in your voice? Have you been abducted by aliens?” Jade gasps, covering her mouth with her hand, her purple nails freshly painted.
Her remark is so outlandish it makes me choke out a laugh.
“Because the Harper Conrad I know and love has never been anything other than self-confident, resilient, and dare I say, a tad bit full of herself.”
I snort. “Is there a compliment in there somewhere?”
“Well, duh. I’m always in awe of you,” she offers enthusiastically. “Otherwise, how in the world have you kept your poise when you’ve walked in to interview a player in the clubhouse locker room full of naked men? Anyone else would’ve tripped over their own tongue with all the swinging dick action going on.”
I roll my eyes at the mention of one of my first locker room interviews. I was just out of college and felt ready to take on the world. And then I walked in and was made to feel two-foot small around men twice my size with small dick complexes who weren’t happy about a woman being in their coveted space.
She hums in appreciation. “Nah-ah. Not you, girl. You kept your composure and didn’t even bat an eye. You impress the hell of out me. And that’s why I know—without a doubt—you’ll score that exclusive interview with Marek Talbert.”
I love the faith my friend has in me, but I don’t share the same level of optimism at the moment. But she is right about one thing. I’ve learned to put on a steel veneer when working in sports reporting. It’s a head game and you have to prepare yourself for battle. If you let their jabs and snide comments get under your skin, it’s all over. If they smell fear, they’ll tear you to pieces.
It's why my eyes can’t wander when I enter a locker room. I can’t blush, or stare, or awkwardly lose my train of thought. Any of those things will land me face first on the floor in front of a team of semi-professional baseball players.
That only happened once.
And once was enough for me to learn the lesson the hard way.
It was my first assignment as a sideline reporter for the small news station in the Tri-Cities, where I wore multiple hats in reporting. I was not yet a full-time sports broadcaster. Instead, I was more like a higher-paid intern, called upon to manage a myriad of reporting tasks such as weather, local events, handling lighting behind the camera, and sometimes fetching coffee for the salaried producers. I did it through gritted teeth because I knew I had to pay my dues.
So, when my Executive Producer, Roland, finally asked me to take over the reporting of the Tri-City Tigers, our Triple-A Seattle minor farm team, for their playoff games, I nearly peed my pants from the excitement. It was the opportunity I’d been waiting for, and I’d show them just how valuable I was to the station.
Oh, I showed them all right. It was textbook everything you should never do in a locker room interview.
To say I’ve learned a lot since that day six years ago is an understatement. It’s true what they say about learning from your past mistakes. Without them, we are only a collection of our failures. If you don’t use them to grow, you’ll never improve your game.
“I need this interview so bad, Jade, but we all know just how elusive Marek is with the press. Since he’s become the GM of the Puget Sound Pilots, one of the youngest general managers in the league, he rarely grants interviews and press conferences are quick and to the point. When he does do an interview, it’s with well-established national sports broadcasters like Lesley Visser or Erin Andrews. I’ll be lucky to even get my name out before he slams the door in my face.”
I tap the end of my pen against my cluttered desk, looking at my schedule to ensure I can squeeze in the unplanned—and unapproved—trip to Seattle.
The trip could ultimately be an utter waste of my time… or the best investment I’ve ever made in my career.
