It’s hot in the locker room, but I don’t mind it. I came all the way to Chicago for this game. Brett has had quite the week preparing to play the Hawks. Though I had told Steve I would no longer do away games as Jade had volunteered to do them, I came for Brett. It’s Thanksgiving weekend and though I could be with Anne and her family, I feel the need to be at Brett’s game. It’s a critical point in his career, and the past week we’ve kept in contact. I think he sees me than more than his fuck buddy. I don’t think there are any other girls around. On the other hand, Brett didn’t ask me to come to Chicago. That I did on my own.

Jade is pissed. She was supposed to cover this game alone. But my last-second decision was welcomed. Jade has been doing a terrible job of interviews at away games; she rarely gets interviews with the winning players, and when she does, she’s screws it up. She doesn’t keep up with stats, team history, or player history, either. Last weekend she had a pointless interview with a Miami player, Taylor Dawson. As gorgeous as Taylor is—and I’m certain that’s why Jade decided to interview him—he sat on the bench most the game. Steve immediately sent me the interview by email with the subject line ‘Help! She’s messing it up!’ I watched it and it was awkward. Steve has called me several times since, begging me to cover some games outside of New York. At first, I didn’t care to, but if it allows me to see more of Brett, I’m willing.

Jade is grinding her teeth as she sets up across the room from me. Not only am I here to give interviews, but Steve also is trusting me with the live feed. Guess sucking dicks doesn’t matter if you can’t interview well.

I spot Brett’s gym bag sitting on a bench in the middle of the room. “Mike, Jax, let’s go to the lockers over there.” I see Jade in the corner of my eye. Both her crewmen are here, but I can see she is not well-prepared. She’s shuffling through a list of questions that she commonly asks, trying to pick the right ones. Of course, she has them all memorized and would never bring her cue cards on air. But that’s the difference between her and I. Throughout the season, I’ll research the top players and headline games. Do I ask the same questions? Sometimes. But I make a point to try to ask the most pressing questions. Answers the audience wants to hear, and questions players want to answer.

Jade has been doing this for two seasons, but she is clueless. She hasn’t figured out that she needs to memorize players’ personal effects. I know every major player’s gym bag and shoes, and it gives me an edge because I know exactly what part of the room the athletes are headed to after a game or showering. It’s easy to know their locker if they are playing in their home stadium—stadiums have the players’ names labelled. But during away games it’s beneficial. Required. Jade has no common sense. The locker door flies open, and I look up bright-eyed. But my expression is replaced with a sneer. Ugh, Bethany.

Bethany looks about the room, her tits half out her top. But like Jade, she has no clue of where to set up, “Let’s go over here.” Bethany leads her crew across the locker room, furthest from Jade.

“Are your boobs making an appearance to boost ratings, Bethany?” Jade hollers with a sardonic smile. Bethany stares hard at Jade then snaps back, “Well, along with this, I was thinking of giving some producers and managers head at my network. What do you think? Would that be a good idea, Jade?”

That’s the best question Bethany’s ever delivered. I snicker beneath my breath.

“Shut up, Lexi.” Jade scowls. “At least I don’t live in denial. Not only are you getting old, but think you and Brett Brock are a thing? Oh wait, no you’re not. You’re just fuck buddies.”

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes. “High school is over. Act professional.”

Jade ignores my comment and continues, “Fuck buddies or not, you’re heading to the same place with him as you did with Tristan.”

I’m about to bite back, but then the locker room door opens again. It’s Shonda. She’s dressed smart, wearing a fitted blouse, no cleavage. She looks about the room a few moments. She’s looking for Brett’s gym bag. She spots it and shyly looks at me, unsure of what to do. I can see it in her eyes as she looks into mine that she wants to hover over Brett’s locker, too. She knows that to get ahead, she’s going to have to race me to the locker rooms now. I don’t want to start competing with her; I decide to extend an olive branch instead, “Did you want to set up here?” I ask.

“Yes.” She bites her lower lip.

“Go on,” I say in encouragement, hoping she returns the favor next time I’m late to the locker room. As Shonda’s crewmen set up, I continue to watch the game from a flat screen television mounted to the wall. The score is forty-seven twenty for the Blazers. There is no doubt they have won. After a twenty-two-yard pass Brett threw to Deshawn Lewis in the end zone, their points keep racking up. Despite this, Brett is still fighting for every inch of the field. Some players pull back a little at this point to ensure that they won’t face a severe injury. I can only imagine that the players on the other team are hating Brett right now for fighting so hard and making them look worse. They will be hearing it from the coaches and owners after this game.

The game ends, and coverage goes to commercial. I watch Shonda as she sets up next to me. She seems to know the code; she’s not trying to push me out of the area. She reminds her crewmen to not disturb my crew or their equipment. If I were to pass my torch to anyone, it would be her. She reminds me of myself. I can tell by looking at her she’s not trying to compete with me, she’s trying to learn from me. I hear the stampede of men thundering toward the locker room.

“We’re ready to go live now. Is that okay, Steve?” I ask through my earpiece.

“Go for it, Driver. We’ll put it on in ten seconds.”

I count down from ten, and as I reach one, the team hurtles through the doors, Brett leading the way. “Follow Brett,” I say. Mike points his lens in the direction of Brett. Brett makes eye contact with me, beaming. I blush, trying not to melt to a puddle on the floor. Screw the interview, I want him now, dirty and sweaty. I don’t care. I try to hold back the urge to run to him as all the other players give him a pat on the back and congratulate him for a game well-played.

As he saunters toward me, I hear another player, Marcus Turner, call out to Jade, “Hey, sports bitch, are you here for some after-game action? Heard you gave Dawson a few good rounds last weekend!” The rest of the players laugh, and I know that Jade has got her camera on, too. Jade’s scarlet but thankful she’s not live. Turner knows better. I keep my composure, but Shonda can barely hold it together as she giggles behind her hand, covering her microphone.

Brett stands between Shonda and I. I immediately begin, “Brett, the atmosphere in the locker room is electric. This game puts you and the Blazers one step closer to playing in the Super Bowl this year. Now that you’ve defeated Chicago, what do you think the Blazers’ chances are to make it to the big game?”

“Excellent,” he says, grinning. “We had some challenges this year,” he says as he reaches for a towel and wipes the sweat off his brow. “But I think despite the setbacks, we’ve come together as a team.”

“DAMN RIGHT! BROCK THE ROCK!” yells Deshawn Lewis from across the room. Brett rubs his neck, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. God he’s so damn sexy. He has a natural charm. I’m not the only one who thinks so. Shonda loses her focus momentarily, staring at Brett, “Uh, right.” Her forehead creases, trying to think of the next question. “It seems that your fellow teammate, Deshawn, is very happy with you. Uh, how did you get the team to come together?”

“Well, the guys and I have always been close. They always felt confident in my talent, so has Coach Dietrick. Knowing that they believed in me and had my back made this transition much easier.”

That’s a lie. The Blazers always liked Brett as a person, but they hardly went to bat for him as a player. The coaches constantly favored Dion without giving Brett much of a chance. But Brett is no idiot. He’s winning points with his teammates and coaches.

I say, “I think we can all agree that the play that drove the game in the Blazers’ favor was the twenty-two-yard pass you threw to Deshawn in the end zone. But the play that the team had was an unusual play strategy for the Blazers. Was that original from Coach Dietrick?”

“Original?” Brett repeats, smiling. “Yes and no. We had been practicing several different play strategies to defeat the Hawks these past few weeks. Deshawn and the rest of the team were familiar with it. Maybe the Hawks weren’t.”

Shonda takes the next question, “When you threw it, were you confident that the play would be a success as you watched it fly through the air?”

“I knew Deshawn was capable of catching it. He’s been dependable and working hard in practice and conditioning. He’s a dedicated player.”

Steve yells into my earpiece. “Don’t let that Miss Washington take over the interview, Driver. You may end up on the short side of the stick. That girl does have compelling interviews sometimes.”

I nod into the camera, letting Steve know I’ve heard him loud and clear. It doesn’t bother me that Shonda is getting a piece of the interview, but I have to do right by the network and ask more questions.

“Brett, since becoming the Blazers’ quarterback, you’ve led them to a series of wins. In each game the fans have noticed that the team has become a well-oiled machine. To see a new starting quarterback have such an impact on his team, and lead them to a winning streak is miraculous. You’ve often credited your coaches, coordinators, and teammates. But what do you credit yourself for? What do you bring to this team that creates this winning dynamic?”

I know this will be a hard question for Brett to answer; giving credit to himself. He pauses a few moments. He’s too modest to answer such a question. I know he’s trying to think of a polite answer.

Finally, he says, “I think I’ve had an advantage these past few years that very few players get. I’ve had the opportunity to watch all my teammates in practice. I’ve seen and memorized their strengths and weaknesses and know plays they are most comfortable with. I’ve also had time to watch which players work well together. I’ve spent a lot of time observing other teams, too.”

I slip the mic back beneath my mouth, “That’s true. Everyone knows that all football teams watch videos of the opposing teams plays and research them well in advance. But do you go beyond watching video with your teammates and discussing plays with the coaches?”

He takes a moment, thinking over my question. “Yeah. In my own time, I watch hours of footage of other team plays. All the observing I’ve done over the years is paying off.”

“Well, I’m sure everyone wants to know, what I’d like to know,” I say before Shonda can butt in, “with all these wins, how will the Blazers go out and celebrate tonight?”

“I’m not sure if Chicago has any place willing to serve our team some Thanksgiving turkey.” Everybody in the locker room cracks up. But then Brett looks directly into my eyes, sending shivers up my spine. “But I have my plans.” His words silence the room, putting all eyes on us. “We will be partying hard tonight, Miss Driver. I think I’ve earned it.”

Shonda and I wrap up the interview with Brett. Then we walk out of the locker room. I stand by the doors waiting, casually looking at some photos of past Chicago players on the walls. Shonda is standing nearby, staring at me, “You let me have the interview, too.”

I turn, noting her presence, “Yes. I suppose I did.”

“Why did you? It’s a competition for both of us.”

“I allowed it because you’re professional. You ask compelling questions. You’ve kept your class and I admire that you’re not willing to stoop to the kinds of things Bethany and Jade are. This industry needs more women like you.”

She gives me a quick, unexpected hug. “Thanks, Driver. That means a lot to me. See you around?”

“Absolutely. Nice interviewing with you.”

“You too,” she says before she turns to leave.

A few minutes later, Brett emerges from the locker room, followed by several other players. I begin to wonder if I should make a discreet exit. None of the players know that I’ve been spending time with Brett.

“Hey, Brock, let’s go out for a couple of rounds. I’m sure you could probably score a threesome tonight,” Deshawn says as he puts his arm around Brett. “In all seriousness, let me buy you a drink.”

Brett looks up and sees me standing by the sports memorabilia, pretending to look at the names of the people in the photos. “Sorry, Deshawn. There’s a few phone calls Hal wants me to make tonight. He thinks I may have scored a last-minute Christmas endorsement.”

“Well, well, then.” Deshawn gives Brett a pat on the back. “All the best, Rock.”

Deshawn heads down the corridor, leaving Brett behind. When he’s out of sight, Brett slips his gym bag down to the floor. It slides next to me hitting the wall, “Don’t tell me you are a Chicago fan, Driver.”

“Hardly.” I continue to stare at the picture in front of me. He puts his hands in his pants pockets approaching me. I turn to him, “I have to be somewhat discreet.”

He gives me a seductive smile. He puts his large hands on my waist, and pulls me toward him. As he does, Jade comes out of the locker room. Brock’s hands drop as she flies past us with a funny look on her face.

“Huh. I thought everyone left the locker room,” says Brett as he watches her leave.

“Jade is a strange girl.”

“So I hear.”

I cup his face with my hands, looking at him salaciously. “So, are you going to take your reward?”

He pulls me to his hard body and softly presses his lips to mine. “Got to be honest, sports bunny. It was a long game and I’m starving now. Let’s go get a bite to eat, hm? There’s a popular pizza place here in Chicago I love. They have the greatest crust. Have you ever heard of The Great American Pie?”

“It never disappoints.”