Page 2 of Fair Catch
I shrug and lean against the counter with my empty mug in my hand. “He might. We could always ask.”
“You know who’d have a problem with it?”
“Kit,” I say with a sigh. She’s the boss. Everyone loves her except she complains a lot about noise. The open office concept isn’t for everyone, and on this floor, she’s everyone. Someone sent Jonathan an anonymous note asking him to move Kit to an office, so the editors and staff could work in peace without Kit sending a mass email reminding everyone to keep their nails cut short because she hates the clickity clack they make on the keyboard.
“Right. The noise would bother her.”
Finally, there’s enough coffee in the pot for one cup and Basha pours herself one. “Sorry,” she says with an apologetic look.
“I don’t mind. Hey, let me ask you something. I received a pitch today and I like it, but it’s in the sports romance category and I don’t know jack about football. Should I have Jonathan read it?”
“Is it sporty or one of those ‘he’s an athlete, but they never actually detail anything about the sport’ sort of thing? Because those annoy the crap out of me. I read one the other day about cricket and the bloke didn’t play a single game or if he did, it was in the female POV, so she just gushed about his tight ass in his pantaloons.”
“Is that what she called his pants?” I open my yogurt and start eating.
Basha nods and takes a sip of her coffee. She takes it black, no cream or sugar. Nothing fancy. She calls it her high-octane formula. “Yep. I don’t know how many times I had to delete it from her MS only to find out the lead is British. It’s one of those things where the author should mention it before I get click happy.”
“Huh. Anyway, I think by the submission this is going to be detailed, which is great, but what if some of the terminology or game play is wrong?”
“Why don’t you go to a game? We have a team here.”
“I’m not sure that would help me understand the game. Like what does a tackle mean? Or a sack? Those were two words she used.”
“Seasoned or new author?”
“New. Otherwise, I might let it go. I like the concept though, a lot.”
“Oh!” Basha’s dark eyes widen. “What if you interview the team or something?”
“Like an on-the-field reporter?”
“Sort of, I guess. I’m thinking more like the coach or someone giving you a crash course in all things football.”
Hmm.“I like that idea a lot, actually. I wonder how I’d set that up?”
“Check with Valentine. I bet she can figure it out for you.”
“I’ll go see her after I fill this mug up.” I rinse the yogurt cup and put it in the correct recycle bucket. “Thanks, Basha.”
“Of course. Let me know how it goes.” Basha exits the breakroom, leaving me there with my thoughts. I like the idea of being on the field or whatever. Firsthand knowledge is better than anything Google is going to give me.
After I fill my mug, I head to the other end of the floor, where our superhuman publicist, Valentine Geis, sits. She’s typing frantically on her keyboard and bobbing to whatever she’s listening to through her headphones. I stand in front of her cubicle to avoid scaring the crap out of her by tapping on her shoulder.
“Hey, what’s up?” she asks after removing her headphones.
“Any chance you can set me up with an in-depth tour with the football team?” I fill her in on why.
“Which one?”
“We have more than one?”
Valentine laughs and nods. “Professional, college, and high school. Take your pick.”
“Oh,” I say, letting the “oh” linger a bit longer than I should. “Definitely professional. If not, any of the colleges would be fine.”
“Let me see what I can do. I’ll let you know. Is there a timeline?”
“The sooner the better. I’d like to get back to this agent and author soon. The story has a ton of potential, but for my peace of mind, I want my ducks in a row before I take it to Kit and Jonathan.”