“Sounds like you had an amazing time.” Anne fluffs up a pillow on my couch. “A Blazers jersey with Brock’s name and number is too cute from Dana and Elena. They like you, Lexi. They sound like lovely people.”

“They are!” I look through my kitchen for more drinks and snacks. “I can’t wait to visit them again. I’m so glad Dana invited me up for the week after Super Bowl.”

“That’s so nice. That’s how you know his family likes you, you know. You don’t have to wait until the next family holiday for an invite.”

“Never thought of it that way,” I say, realizing that Dana wouldn’t have invited me over if she didn’t think Brett was serious about me. I glance back at the television. It’s on a game of the Crusaders and the Braves. It’s New Year’s Eve and I’m doing some research on the players of the Crusaders; they have a shot at the Super Bowl, too. Unfortunately, Tristan plays for them, so if they make the Super Bowl there’s a chance I will have to interview him. Though the thought makes me cringe, I’ve decided to keep things professional. If I’m told to interview him I will, but I’m keeping any interview with him short.

I’ve made notes of all the athletes personal journeys and histories, so I can invent some questions and create a riveting conversation during interviews. I have several games recorded on my DVR and I am watching what I missed while I was at the Brocks’ house. I’ve finally reached the last game, which was recorded earlier today.

Jade has been busy this past week. Though the network wants her to cover only the Blazers, she’s covered a couple of other games—pro bono—to hone her skills. Though she has had a few good interviews this season, her skills are still weak. She repeatedly asks common questions and isn’t getting any fresh answers.

I look down at my notes with tired eyes; I also have to go through all the questions fans have sent me the past couple of weeks. It’s going to be a busy New Year.

“So, when do you see that lovely boy again?” Anne asks. I stop staring at the game. I hesitate to answer. Brett and I planned to get together for New Year’s Eve, but Anne and I have always had a pact; if we are both single, we spend it together.

“I, uh,” I say, fumbling.

Anne purses her mouth, trying not to crack a smile, “Please, Lexi, I’m in public relations. You and Brett have been a thing for a while. I wasn’t expecting you to spend tonight with me. Actually, I was wondering when you were going to get around to telling me your plans.”

“Sorry, Anne. I should have let you know.” I approach the couch and put two craft beers and chips on the table. “Let me know if you want anymore.”

“So where are you going?” she asks, picking up a handful of chips.

“Well, we’re doing the typical ‘New Yorker’ thing.”

With a mouthful of chips, Anne gives me a curious expression. She tries to swallow them quickly. I know what she’s dying to ask. I smile broadly. “Isn’t the typical ‘New Yorker’ thing to do to go to Times Square?” she asks, munching through her chips.

“Yes.”

“Shouldn’t you be there now then? It’s three in the afternoon on New Year’s Eve. You know you have to wait, like, a full twenty-four hours to get a good spot to see the festivities.”

I grin cockily. “I know. But I won’t.”

“Ha, ha.” She pounces on the couch. “Brett’s got a connection?”

“Yes. As it turns out, a local network wants to do a short interview with him. They want to hype up the upcoming Blazers’ games.” I reach out for my beer.

“It’s good publicity.” Anne grabs her beer off the table. “Hal probably pulled that one off, he’s a good agent. That’s great for Brett.”

“They want to do the interview around eleven thirty. It’s not far from where the ball drop will be.”

Anne twists the cap off her bottle of beer and takes a swig of her beer. She makes a bitter face. “Uh! Yuck! What is this?”

“It’s a craft beer from Ohio. Brett and I like it.”

“Pfft. It tastes awful.”

“To each their own.” I pick up my notebook and pen and look up at the television. The game is on commercial break.

I fast-forward through the commercials as they show some ‘sex’ footage that is blurred, but show no faces.

Anne stares, “Wow. That’s a way to get people to stop viewing the New Year’s Eve Special.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Anything to boost ratings.”

After Anne leaves, I continue to jot down some more notes and questions for upcoming games the Crusaders will play in. I’ve promised Steve that after New Year’s I would start taking on more away games from other teams that may go to Super Bowl. I sense that he has been impressed with Jade’s recent interviews.

Once I’m finished, I get dressed in a long cross back sequin gown, and style my blonde hair into beach waves. Normally, I don’t make such a fuss. But Brock’s interview will take place right next to where the ball will drop and he’s planning to wear a suit. There’s a chance I may be on television. I can’t deny wanting to impress him. I want more than a midnight kiss. He mentioned going to the Peacock Club afterward, but I’m hoping my dress will change his mind.

Brock has given me a location to meet him, so he can get me into his interview location. It’s a hotel several blocks away. They’ve arranged Brett a car to escort him through the thousands of people.

When I arrive at the hotel, I see Brett sitting at the lobby bar. There’s a small quartet playing some holiday music on a stage next to the bar. He looks heavenly. Going to Times Square to celebrate now seems like a drag.

“Hey, sports bunny,” he says cheerfully. “Ready to hit up the hottest place in town?”

Our driver takes us from the hotel, to the heart of Times Square. He had to stop at several security points, and show a specialized clearance card several times. We made it to the location, with only a minute to spare. Hand in hand, Brett and I race toward the interview location. Brett spots an empty canvas director’s chair.

“Why don’t you sit here,” Brett says. “Hal said the interview would only last a couple of minutes, so I doubt anyone will kick you out.”

I chuckle, “Nor will I let them. Good luck, Brett.”

I take a seat as the crew cues some local anchors, Chase and Angelica. I can tell the two of them are excited to do the interview. Brett had mentioned that though the interview was being done by a local network, it would air over North America over several national networks.

Chase notices the crew pointing to Brett. “Ah. New York, we have a treat for you tonight. An interview with the beloved quarterback of the Blazers, Brett Brock!”

“Hey, gorgeous!” I turn to see a man whistling at me from the crowded street. “You’re doing a fantastic job, Driver! The best I’ve seen any reporter do!”

“Yeah,” a woman says, “Nothing sells like spread legs.”

An unsettling feeling comes over me. I pretend I don’t hear them and continue to watch Brett give his interview. Angelica begins with the first question. “Brett, what do you think the Blazers’ chances are for the Super Bowl in New Pennsylvania this year?”

“I’m feeling confident that we’ll make it,” Brett replies. “But if we don’t, I’d love to watch the game in Pennsylvania from the stands. It’s a great stadium and Ibila is performing in the half-time show. She’s a great artist, so I’d look forward to watching her and the game with fans if we don’t get to play.”

“It seems that you don’t shy away from the public, Brock.” Chase chuckles, “Now, I’ve got a list of questions here that the network wants me to ask. There are other questions I’d love to ask, but you know, we do have young children watching at home.”

Brett looks confused. He rubs the back of his neck, “So long as it’s not inappropriate, go on?” he encourages.

“Well, how do you feel about Lexi Driver? I suppose you’re no longer angry about the interview that took place earlier this year?”

My phone vibrates. It’s Anne.

Brett finishes up his interview, a puzzled expression on his face. My phone vibrates in my hand again.

Anne sends me a short video clip, but I refuse to watch it. I know it’s our evening in the limo.

FUUUUUCCCCKKKKK!

My jaw drops. I look up from my phone to find Brett standing in front of me, softly smiling. I manage to find the words as huge tears fill my eyes, “Brett, I can’t believe you! You went to some lengths to take down my career. How could you do this to me?”

He looks at me wide-eyed, “Lexi, what are you talking about?”

“As if you don’t know!” I stammer, trying to hold back from breaking down. But I can’t stop. Moments ago, I had felt like I was soaring. He was making me the happiest woman in the world. Now I’m crashing and burning. I utter the saddest wail, my heart shattered. I’ve never felt so worthless. “You took that video to the press, so you could punish me!” I whimper, my eyelashes drenched with tears; Brett has ripped me apart. I turn on my heel and into the vast crowd of New Yorkers celebrating.

It’s a god-awful trip to get back to my apartment. I’m accosted by several people with rude remarks, some catcalling. I run several blocks before I find an available cab. I hop in and mumble my address, trying to avoid eye contact with the driver.

“Cutting the night short?” he asks. “The ball drop hasn’t happened yet.”

“Drive.”

Cue the great escape.