"I cannot believe you fainted in the middle of JFK," Macey laughed as she walked into Cammie's apartment, shutting the door behind her while her bracelets continued to jingle with her every motion.
"Hardy har har," Cammie said, turning and narrowing her eyes in an attempt to get Macey to shut up about it. "Look can we just forget about it? It was so incredibly embarrassing."
Night was beginning to set into the windows, casting shadows all around the rooms. Cammie looked forward to this every night, it reminded her of a castle or big mansion with windows scattered all over the walls that created works of art on the floor with the dimming light. It almost made her forget about the events that occurred just an hour before.
"Fine, we don't have to talk about the fainting but we do have to talk about Zach," Macey reasoned and Cammie groaned as they made their way towards the living room which connected to the small kitchen. "You didn't tell me you knew him!"
A sigh escaped Cammie's lips as she sat on her couch. Macey followed. "That's the thing Mace, I don't know him."
Macey tossed her large purse onto the ground below them and it made a loud thumping sound that Cammie knew her neighbors downstairs would be able to hear. "You sure acted like you do," her best friend argued.
"He pushed me out of the way of the subway Saturday morning! So what?" Cammie flailed her hands around her in frustration as she put a frozen dinner in the microwave. For some reason, men were always a touchy topic for her. Her father had died when she was young, and she went to an all girl's school seventh through twelfth grade, so her interaction with the other gender didn't really start until she went to college. Macey, on the other hand, was basically a pro. She had dates lined up two months in advance and was always looking for a good time. Plus she was insanely beautiful, so who wouldn't want to go out with her?
Macey huffed. "I don't care if he randomly proposed on the street or something, you denied his offering to take you out!"
"I don't know him!" she shrugged.
Taxis honked on the streets below them. Cammie's microwave beeped. She could smell the savory meal and felt her stomach growl.
"He wanted to take you out and buy you dinner, who in their right mind would not accept that?" Macey called to the brunette in the kitchen.
Cammie didn't respond, just took her microwavable dinner out of the machine and grabbed a fork. She purposely took her time. Macey was getting on her nerves. In a way, she was still surprised her best friend had told Grant and Zach to go out without her, as she wanted to make sure Cammie got home alright.
"Look, I know you're just scared; scared of getting hurt!" Macey shouted to the kitchen. "That's why you never go on dates! But I want you to be happy, so I'll let it go."
Cammie half smiled, because only the last part of what she had just heard she liked. "Whatever Macey!"
"I'm just saying. Maybe next time an attractive guy asks if he can take you out to dinner you go out on a limb and say 'sure! I'd love to' and you just might have fun. You're never going to get married, which I know is something you absolutely want to do within the next ten years, if you keep kicking really attractive guys to the curb."
Cammie sat back down on the couch and rolled her eyes. "You don't have to stay here and lecture me about my lack of a love life. Go out with Grant. The doctor who helped me up said I was just food and sleep deprived."
Macey got up eagerly. "Ok, if you insist!"
"Geez, I guess you really don't want to sit here with me and watch TV," Cammie said in between bites of the heated green beans.
"Sweetheart, I love you to death, but Grant told me Preston is meeting up with us at nine, so if I want to impress him before our date next month then I need to go now. Ciao, darling!"
Before she knew it Macey was out of the door. Cammie stretched her legs out on the empty couch and turned on the TV. She didn't really mind Macey leaving. How could she get mad about it when she knew she wanted to go? Besides, Cammie was used to it. The quiet sounds of the city and buzzing of the television didn't make her lonely.
"Mr. Townsend," Cammie poked her head through the opening of her boss's door the next day at her office. "You wanted to see me?"
"Yes, Cammie, I did," he replied, signaling her to walk in. "Here is your pass for the Yankee's game tonight. They will let you into the locker room after the game, and I will need the report by 8am tomorrow."
Cammie took her pass and shook her head. "I will definitely get it to you by then."
"Good," her boss replied, before pausing. "Miss Morgan, I know you are not fully comfortable with writing about sports, but I gave this assignment because I know you can handle it, and write a nice piece afterwards."
"Thank you sir," she smiled.
"Don't disappoint me," he said, returning to editing the papers in front of him.
She walked out of his office and around the corner to her desk. Passing her busy co-workers, she allowed herself to get cocky for only a second, when she thought, I've got editor's assistant in the bag.
She had been roaming around for about 20 minutes looking for the Yankee's locker room. Her press pass gave her a nice seat for the game, but she didn't understand baseball and didn't pay much attention. In fact, she watched for about ten minutes in order to write an interesting intro about the scenery around her, but then she read the book she brought. Of course, she watched the ending too, she just didn't know which inning it was. The night was clear and limitless when the announcer's voice informed her the event was over and the Yankees had beaten the Marlins. Once the game was over, she had to ask about five people how to get to the locker room. She had to find it soon or she wouldn't be able to get an interview with a player and Townsend would have her head. The factual stuff about the game would practically write itself later, when she got the information from ESPN or something, but of course, she had to talk to somebody.
Thankfully, she finally found a hallway lined with media waiting by a door that read MAIN LOCKER ROOM. They all wanted to get in. She didn't panic, though. Pushing through crowds was her specialty. Who else could have gotten to the first row up against the ropes to watch the running of the bulls in Pamplona Spain last year?
This time was no exception. The large body guard blocking the door looked very surprised to see her before him in a sea five deep of reporters like herself.
"Hi," she nearly screamed up to the tall and large man. "I'm Cammie Morgan from the New York Apple. Do you think I could get into the locker room for an interview?"
"Sorry miss, no interviews tonight," he said, doing what guards do and looking around and not at her. She knew he would be like that.
"Please," she pleaded, grabbing her press pass around her neck and held up to show him. "I really am a reporter, and I'm only doing this game because I want a promotion. Here's my pass, straight from Edward Townsend himself."
She held up the plastic case that held her ticket in her ticket not to get in. He studied it for a second before glancing at her with a confused expression.
"Did you say Edward Townsend?" he asked apprehensively.
She nodded. "The one and only."
The man smiled, a genuine looking grin changing his whole façade. "Ed helped land me this job. He knows the manager and my father, and knew I'd been lookin for something for a while. I've lived here all my life and have never made as much as I do now. Go on in, and tell Ed Ray says thanks again."
Cammie smiled then too. "Thanks Ray, you may just help me get a job too."
He opened the door for her and smiled and nodded as she slipped in.
The room was not the locker room, but a sitting room with a few couches, a TV, and Yankees' memorabilia decorating the walls. Cammie heard noises from the door on the opposite wall. She casually opened the door and breathed a sigh of relief. She had found the locker room, and there were only two players in it. A great atmosphere for chatting. The one thing she hated about her job was doing an interview in a crowded space where she could barely hear the person speak.
"Excuse me," she said confidently, cautiously stepping through the wooden door. The two players, on opposite sides of the room, turned. "I was wondering if I could get an interv—"
Suddenly, her breath was taken from her lungs, her face flushed intensely and she didn't know what to say.
There he was. Mister I-need-to-get-where-I'm-going and Mister I-am-going-to-ask-you-out-days-after-pushing-you-d own, sitting at his locker, with his name and picture draped on the wall inside.
Moments of silence passed. Words caught in her throat. She felt like she was going to faint again.
"Interview. I wanted to know if I could get an interview with a player," she stuttered, not looking into his eyes or even in his direction. He was wearing baseball pants and a white t-shirt, his Yankees hat on backwards. The other guy sat on the other side of the room, with his jersey still on. He was older, with a bushy beard and a small chain around his neck.
"Well Miss, I was just about to head to the showers," the guy said, standing hesitantly. Cammie saw his name on the inside of his locker was Buddy Thomas.
"I can do it Buddy," Zach spoke up, slowly standing as well. "If Miss Morgan is okay with that."
They both looked in her direction.
She didn't focus on either of them this time, obviously too embarrassed.
"Sure!" she exclaimed nervously, trying to make it look like she turned her attention to finding her notepad and recorder in her purse. Making a great deal of effort, she didn't want them to know she knew exactly where both were.
"Great!" Buddy said as he started towards the second door in the room. "See ya Zach."
"Bye Buddy, nice game tonight," Zach replied, giving a small wave in his team-mate's direction.
Cammie still tried to seem frustrated with the contents in her purse as Zach studied her.
"You can take a seat over here if you'd like," Zach said to her.
She gave up on looking busy and grabbed both items, forcing her attention on the most awkward interview she would ever have to conduct. Guilt flooded her being as she sat in a chair across from the guy she had been brought together by faith with three times within one week.
"I didn't know you played for the Yankee's," she said, deciding to give up her hard-to-get image. It was only going to embarrass her in the end, and she knew it.
He laughed, soft and effortlessly.
"Yeah. I didn't know you were a sports reporter," he joked, resting his elbows on his knees.
She smiled politely back. "I'm not. Our regular reporter is on his honeymoon, so I am covering for him."
He continued to smile, obviously surprised she was there. "Ah, you must be the best of the best if you're covering the Yankee's."
She felt her cheeks go hot again as her pulse continued to thump. Her hands shook too, so she opened her notebook to a clean page. "Obviously," she finally met his eyes and smiled, not knowing fully what her brain was choosing to do.
She's the girl that no one ever knows.
And I say hi, but she's too shy to say hello.
She's just waiting for that one to take her hand
And shake her up.
I bet
I could.
-We The Kings
