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13uswntimagines · 4 years

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It’s called Drowning- Not Surfing (Bino!Child x USWNT)

Request: Sequel (prequel) to You’re in Wubble Now detailing what happened with Tobin. Tobin takes reader Surfing and the little Daredevil gets a little more than she bargained for, while Tobin is just trying to be a responsible babysitter.

You sat on the beach, halfheartedly running the sand through your fingers, pouting up at your three favorite aunts (not that you would tell the others that). It was an off day at camp, and Kelley, Tobin, and Ashlyn had all decided to go to the beach. You begged your mom enough to convince her that you would be fine to go along, and the cool crew was always happy to have you.

What you didn’t realize was that they were going to spend the day surfing and that they had no intention of allowing you to join them in the waves. That and their girlfriends were going shopping so you had no one to hang out with you and knock a ball around on the beach with. Sure you were kinda tiny for 10, but you weren’t a wimp. You were capable of extreme sports.

“Come on Aunt Toby, I wanna be able to hang out with you and Aunt Kelley and Aunt Ash without being left alone on the beach,” you whined for the millionth time, giving the woman your best pout, fluttering your eyelashes at her.

“We always leave someone with you,” She groaned, wishing more than anything that Christen was here. Chris was always better at denying you things than she was. That dam pout was too powerful. How your mom denied you of anything, was far beyond her.

“I can do it guys, please?” You changed tactics, targeting Kelley instead. She was always the easiest to convince that you weren’t too small or too young to do something. She understood what it was like to be underestimated, and your enthusiasm always seemed to convince her to at least let you try. She threw her head back with a groan, unable to withstand the full power of your pout. Your moms were going to kill them for this.

“I mean she can snowboard and wakeboard. This isn’t that much different,” Kelley shrugged, ignoring Ashlyn’s raised eyebrows. Ash was well aware of your propensity for extreme sports and how you never really thought your death-defying acts through. She also knew how overprotective your parents were. If Megan found out that you had gone surfing without her explicit permission, it would probably be worse than the time they let you skateboard through the mall.

“I believe her mother said no death-defying stunts after you and Emily took her cliff diving in Hawaii,” Tobin rolled her eyes at you, crossing her arms firmly over her chest, adamantly looking away from you. You hadn’t told your mom that Emily was taking you cliff diving, and the sight of you diving off the tallest perch you could into the water had nearly given them a heart attack. Emily was just lucky that Lindsey was there to save her when Mama Pino got to her.

“You might be blowing this a little out of proportion, the waves are super small,” Ashlyn scoffed, patting Tobin on the back. You were an extremely athletic kid, and the waves were decidedly tiny. This was probably the least dangerous thing you could have asked to do, plus with the three women watching you, there would be no reason for Megan to flip out. You would be returned to her in perfect condition and hopefully, this would help your rambunctious self sleep tonight.

“Please, Aunt Toby?” You asked, your bottom lip trembling, your eyes wide and innocent.

“Fine, but if the waves get bigger, you’re coming back in,” Tobin huffed, rubbing the back of her neck, tightly closing her eyes. Megan was going to kill her if this didn’t turn out alright, and Alex and Christen would never let her live down her inability to say no to you.

“Yay!!” You squeezed, grabbing your child-sized board and rushing towards the water. Only to be stopped by Ashlyn’s warm hand on your arm.

“Whoa there scampi, let’s get some of the basics down on dry land first,” Kelley snorted, grabbing your other arm, so you couldn’t escape to the water with out the proper instruction. You sighed, your shoulders dropping. You didn’t wanna learn on land, you wanted to get into the water and just… surf.

“Fine,” You mumbled, making the women laugh. Tobin ruffled your hair as she led you towards a flat area near the water. You were going to be the death of them.

*****

Your head popped back up above the water, and you clutched onto the surfboard as you took big gulping breaths, a large smile etched on your face. You had just ridden a wave, well almost ridden. When you attempted to stand, your board flew out from beneath you, but you almost made it. The feeling of the ocean propelling you forward was intoxicating and you couldn’t wait to do it again.

“You ok kid?” Tobin questioned as she paddled up beside you, worriedly looking at you as you climbed back onto your board.

“Yeah, why did I fall?” You laughed, whipping your wet hair out of your face.

Tobin sighed. She knew one fall wouldn’t discourage you enough to quit, and one look of the determined face you were making told her that she was quite right. In fact, this may spur you on way more than anyone wanted it to. You had a habit of trying 10 times harder when something didn’t work out the first time. You were as stubborn as Sue and Megan combined.

“Your hands were too close together when you tried to push up, make them and your feet wider and you’ll be good to go,” She said, worriedly watching you as you paddled off towards Kelley. You had just flown off your board and you were already up and ready to go again. Tobin shook her head. Your parents were going to kill her.

*****

You sat farther out in the water, stat tilting your board, your hand playing with the surface, watching for waves with Kelley. Things had seemed to calm down for a bit, but you could feel the big one coming. It began to build in the distance, and you glanced at Kelley to see if this was the one. She smiled, reaching over to pat your leg.

“This one is a little big, I’m gonna take it and you wait for the next one alright?” She asked, turning around and getting into position. it was a set of three, and the first one was a monster that no beginner should even attempt, but the two behind it looked much more promising for you.

You huffed but nodded anyway. You would never get away with your plan if you didn’t placate her first. The wave looked sick and you would be dammed if you missed it. You waited for Kelley to start paddocking first, making sure that none of her attention was on you before you took off after her.

You felt the pulse of the wave pick you up, and you paddled even harder, waiting for just the right moment before standing on your board. Everything was perfect, you were perched atop a wave with the power of the ocean behind you. It was an addictive feeling of bliss, that was until it wasn’t. You let out an elated giggle, moving your arms like all the stereotypical surfers you had seen in movies do.

One second you were standing on your board, and the next you were in the water with no idea of what happened. You didn’t know which way was up or which way was down, all you knew was that you were being tossed around like a sock during the spin cycle.

You opened your eyes to try and get your bearings, but all you saw was bubbles. Before you knew it, you were shoved against something hard and dragged along it by the force of the water. The wave slammed you against the bottom over and over again without mercy. You needed to get off the bottom and back to the surface, and you needed to do it now. You were running out of air and the thought of never seeing your mom and mama again was terrifying. But it gave you the strength you needed to get moving.

Your lungs screamed in protest as you fought to get your feet underneath you, and launched yourself towards the surface.

*****

Tobin let out a breath when she saw your head break the surface. She saw you take a wave that was way to big for you, and she saw you crash out on said wave, and was paddocking the area when you didn’t immediately reappear above the water's surface. She shook her head, Megan wasn’t going to be happy when they told her you had almost drowned to death.

She quickly maneuvered towards your floating form and easily scooped you up and onto her board. You cling to her, water spraying from your nose as you coughed and tried to get enough air.

“Shh kid, your alright,” She murmured into your ear, rubbing your back with one hand and trying to get back to shore with the other.

You made it back to the beach with Ashlyn’s assistance, all three women looking at you worriedly when you didn’t unattach yourself from Tobin.

“Kell, get a towel,” Tobin gestured towards the bags as she finally got a good look at your shivering form. Your normally tan skin was pale, your eyes bloodshot. Kelley nodded, hesitating as she held up the requested material.

“I’m afraid to touch her back, sand in those cuts will hurt like a bitch,” She said, taking in the deep gashes along your spine. The reef was deep, so she never even thought about the possibility of you getting dragged along it, she also didn’t think that you’d try and take on a giant wave by yourself.

Ashlyn bit her lip, slipping her jacket off and wrapping it carefully around your shaking form, rubbing the back of your head in a comforting fashion. How she wished Ali was here, she was always good at comforting you. She let out a breath, they were totally going to be in trouble with your mom and their significant others when they caught a glimpse of your back.

“What the fuck is going on,” Megan’s voice sounded from behind them as she rushed towards you. She and the girls decided to surprise you and keep you company while the others surfed. They hadn’t expected to walk up on a rescue mission.

“Mama?” You asked, finally lifting your head from Tobin’s shoulder.

“Shit,” Tobing huffed as Christen shot her a “seriously” look. She had one job that she consistently failed miserably at, and that was preventing you from danger.

“Hey baby, I’m here,” You mama said softly, rubbing the back of your neck and gathering you up into her arms. You wobbled during the transfer from Tobin’s arms to your mom’s, whimpering when her comforting hands pressed too hard on the cuts on your back. Your mom’s eyebrows furrowed when you flinched, and then grabbed you head from the dizziness.

“You didn’t hit your head on the bottom right?” Kelley asked with wide eyes. They were extremely lucky that you hadn’t been knocked out.

“Excuse me, the bottom? Please tell me that you didn’t let her go surfing in that,” Megan gave the women her best mama glare, gesturing towards the monster set that was crashing on the shore.

“Was smaller,” You groaned, her raised voice only intensifying your headache. Your chest was burning, your back was stinging and all you wanted was to cuddle up with your mama and let her and Roary take away your pain.

“let’s go get you checked out by the doc on baby? I think you might have a concussion,” Megan’s voice softened, as she ran worried hands through your hair. You were a little daredevil, something that she always hoped you would grow out of, and now you could have gotten seriously hurt. She knew that you were frightened just by the way you were clinging to her. They needed to get you checked out and into some comfier clothing. She didn’t like the way you were shivering.

****

“Hey Babes, you doing ok?” Your mom grinned through the phone, smiling at how cute you looked cuddled up with her wife on one side and your famed stuffed triceratops on the other. You forced your eyelids open, blinking slowly at your mama. The painkillers the doctors had given you were making you very tired.

“We’re doing better, aren't we little one?” Megan answered, nudging your side, mindful of the gauze that covered most of your back. Sue’s eyebrows furrowed. She hated that she wasn’t there to help Megan comfort you.

“Much better,” You added sleepily, rubbing Roary’s soft fur on your nose. You shifted slightly, giving Sue a great view of the bruises that covered the tops of your shoulders.

“I’m going to kill Tobin, Ash, and Kelley when I see them,” Sue growled, her fist clenching around the phone so tight she was afraid it would break. How had they let you get so hurt? How had they not known that they were teaching a beginner above a fucking reef?

“Wasn’t their fault, though I could take the wave,” You grumbled, your voice muffled by your stuffed animal.

“They should have been watching you better,” Sue said sternly, shooting a look your way, making it clear that she thought that both you and them were at fault for this incident. They would be having another talk with you about safety, and she was sure they were each getting an earful from their respective significant others.

“We’re never letting you go with them alone again,” Megan nodded. There had been too many accidents for them to be considered good babysitters. Too many problems and incidents of you getting hurt.

“You can’t keep me locked up in my room all day,” You rolled your eyes.

“Wanna bet,” Sue raised her eyebrows at you. Perhaps that was a better solution. At least you couldn’t almost drowned if you were stuck in your room, though knowing you, you’d find an inventive way to “have fun” as you put it.

“You guys are overprotective,” You huffed, sticking your tongue out at the women before retreating behind Roary’s protective form. He would keep you safe from their wrath.

“Well you almost drowned to death today, I think we’re entitled,” Sue said sternly, and you sighed. You were 10, not 2.

“And we only do it because we love you,” Megan pulled you closer to her, and you melted into her embrace. You supposed that they had a good reason to be a little protective right now. You guessed you could give in at least until the scratches on your back healed.

“I love you too,”

#uswnt x reader #uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #Bino x Reader #Bino Imagine #tobin heath x reader #tobin heath imagines

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aleapoffaithfiction · 5 years

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II.

Sarai Nazaire

“You know what I forgot to get while in the city? A pizza. I kept telling myself over and over again that I needed to order a pizza to the hotel and never did. Don’t get me wrong, we have good pizza spots in Atlanta, but there’s nothing like a New York slice. Being that Jesse’s from Chicago, you know they have their own style out there and we debate all the time about which region has the better pizza, but New York takes it by a landslide. Just don’t tell him that I said that.” I stuck the applicator back into the tube of my MAC “Spite” lipglass while she plopped back against the seat in disappointment for having failed to fulfill her craving. I wish she had of said something last night when she decided to travel over from the city to spend her final night on the East Coast at my house. We ordered a couple of dishes from this local Mexican restaurant that left my stomach in shambles throughout the night. I still feel slightly uneasy. Had we gone with a pizza, I probably wouldn’t have had to skip breakfast this morning.

“You’ll be back. We can grab pizza then.”

“I will be. The question is, when are you coming to Atlanta? Come down so we can have some fun in the city. We’re not New York, but the southern hospitality is damn good.”

“As soon as I find the time, I’m on the first flight out there. Contrary to what you believe, I actually enjoy Atlanta. I wouldn’t mind living down there. It’s a great city.” My eyes caught her own as she glanced at me from a side angle and a snide snicker followed to match her mood.

“That’s bullshit and we both know it. You’re an east coast girl to the core. I remember when we were in Toronto at All Star. You looked like a fish out of water. I don’t think I can ever see you moving anywhere else for an extended period of time until you’re saggy and old.”

“First of all, just because I’ll be old doesn’t mean that I’ll be saggy. Have you seen Angela Bassett? That’s the goal right there. Second, I do love it up here but I’m not opposed to living elsewhere at some point in my life. It just depends on the circumstances and opportunities. Right now, aside from it being home, it makes perfect sense to be on the east coast. So, until something comes up, this is where I’ll be.” I was the third hire for The Sports Haven and it was a time clenching phone call that came just before I was due to take another opportunity ESPN presented me with out in Los Angeles. I contacted a realtor in hunt for an apartment and intended to return to settle where I’d be residing, but my destiny ended up being in Connecticut. Though I wasn’t mentally prepared to make such a move, I prayed on it, and was ready. I’m sure it may have been my mother’s prayers of desperation to God that kept me here. She dreaded the reality that I wouldn’t be within close proximity to her though I’m not sure why. We’re not in one each other faces much regardless.

“With the position that you have up there at ESPN, I don’t blame you.”

“And once you’re up there with me, we’re going to turn it up. I need a bit more estrogen on that panel from time to time, even though I hold my own against all three of them.”

“That you do sister. That you do.” Our hands met for a high five and I pulled my small mirror out of my traveling case to check and see if I put on enough concealer. I’ve been dealing with sleep deprivation for the past two weeks or so and it’s certainly starting to show in my under-eye area. The seemingly endless hours at work aside, whenever I do have time to myself it’s either invaded by wanted or unwanted plans with the very view people in my life or I’m trying to tie up loose ends that I am not able to do during the week. I’ve considered hiring a personal assistant but I don’t think I’m at a point where I have the potential to become disorganized or worn down just yet. I intend to give it a bit more time.

“Your face looks good. You don’t need to double check anymore.”

“I’m just making sure everything is in place. I refuse to have Linda touching my face today or ever again. I avoid it at all costs.” I’m not one to discriminate against anyone or much of anything for as long as it’s not arming people, but I absolutely do have a bias when it comes to who does my hair and make-up. I need black hands and talent involved in the process at all times. Sure, there’s talent in every ethnic group, but when it comes to those of your own, there’s a certain level of respect and dedication you’re not going to get elsewhere. I know my foundation shade is going to be on point and that the concealer shade won’t have me in front of the camera looking like Casper The Friendly Ghost. My baby hairs are going to be slicked down just right when I’m rocking some braids and the frontal on my wigs will blend into my hairline seamlessly. If it’s one thing that I don’t play around with, it’s my personal presentation and it’s because I know that I’m going to be critiqued the harshest for two specific discrimination types; my blackness and womanhood. During my contract negotiation, EPSN agreed to hire hairstylist Annagjid Taylor, a mutual friend of my sister and myself. I’ve yet to find a make-up artist but until I do, I’ll handle it on my own. Linda can stay out of my dressing room.

“That woman slightly messed up your make up once and you’ve been holding a grudge against her ever since.” I couldn’t join her in the laughter that filled the SUV. My ears, overall face, and neck were three different colors that day and it was beyond obvious. My mother was the first one to call me and ask what the hell was going on and she doesn’t even watch ESPN. Social media had a field day with it.

“And I’m keeping that grudge.”

“I forgot to mention that I saw you speaking with Odell at the party. That’s one of my favorite guys. He has such a humble spirit and he’s super nice.”

“Hm.”

During the time frame when I was researching his career and background, I viewed plenty of interviews where I can easily admit that he exuded a calmness that I did not expect. After having heard so many opposing and confusing opinions about his character, I presumed that he’d be the “push back” style of athlete who deliberately gave reporters a difficult time in drawing information and responses out of him simply because he could. I’ve dealt with many of those types and it takes the patience of God to be able to sit or stand before them without reacting to such brutal attitudes. Marshawn Lynch is a prime example of one, but I’ve gotten used to it and we’ve built up a mutual respect for one another. Beckham Jr., on the other hand, isn’t likely to behave that way. He’ll give you short answers if he’s flustered or dealing with the disappointment of a game loss. You might receive a deliberate straight-faced expression if he’s being asked the same probing question repeatedly, but he’s never disrespected a reporter. I have never come across any bad commentary about an interview with him.

“He’s been wanting to meet you, actually. He spends a lot of time out in L.A. during the off season. While in town last month, I ran into him at an event out there and in the midst of our conversation he asked about you. He thought you were there too. He mentioned something about you two having failed chance encounters. What is that about?

“I don’t know.” Friend or not, I refuse to get into the details about why I had no desire to meet him or the particulars of what he said last night. With Taylor, I know I’ll never hear the end of it.

“So, what did he say last night?”

“He thanked me for what I said and that was it.” Technically, that is it.

“And what did you say?”

“Uh…you’re welcome.” I couldn’t refrain from laughing at that. “What else was I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know. I just thought you two would have ended up speaking more. He’s been eager for that moment. He’s a really big fan. One of the things that I respect about him is how much respect he has for women. There’s no discrimination on his end. The man hosts a football clinic for women every year and the camp that he does for kids is also extended to girls. Whenever we talk, he always gives me props for my career path and then he fangirls over you. He goes on and on about the way you read off career stats and how much you care about the talent over everything else. He’s confident that you’re the best analyst on the network.”

“I’m not the best.” Surely, I’m working to get there, but as of right now, I’m still learning the ropes.

“It’s his opinion, not yours. Stop selling yourself short either way.”

“Well, I appreciate his kind words.”

“He’s a nice guy.” Our eyes met and mine instantly narrowed at her emphasis on his niceness. Initially, I didn’t understand the point of it until that all too familiar smile appeared on her face. “I’m just saying.”

“Okay.”

“Why are you so short about him?”

“Why are you so long winded about him? I thought Jesse’s your guy.”

“I don’t want Odell. I’ve never viewed him in that manner, but I’m not Stevie Wonder and neither are you. The man is fine as hell.”

“Okay.” I’ve encountered more athletes than I can count over the last four years. Initially, I found myself paying attention to the exterior of a few of them because all of that muscle is right there in front of you, but eventually, it became so normalized in my life that it began to roll right off of me. When you’re so focused on getting the job done, who gives a damn what they look like?

“You’re such a hermit crab.”

John slowly came to a stop in front of Terminal B at Newark Liberty International Airport. We’d made it in just enough time for her to comfortably get through TSA and to her gate without having to put her black Converses to the test.

“Text me when you land so that I can know you’ve made it back safely.” We tightly embraced one another as we always do whenever we greet and leave one another. “And don’t forget because you always do and then I have to call and curse you out.”

“I won’t forget. It’s been a fun week with you, even though I’m sure you’re drained because we’ve hung out just about every day after you left work. Finish up strong today and get some rest. I know you need it.” That’s a fact.

“I will. I’ll be in the bed with some sort of take out as soon as I get home tonight.”

“Fair enough. I’ll see you soon.”

“You will. Enjoy Jesse, because I overheard that he’s heading your way in two days and it’s not for work.” It was my turn to imply what actually is the truth. Despite her playful denial about what they feel for one another and how they navigate it, I know what she feels is sincere. Her face instantly lights up at the mere mention of his name.

“You bitch. Shut up. You enjoy your day because I have a feeling that it’s going to be a pleasant one.”

“It’s always pleasant for the most part.” There are days when it isn’t, but anyone with a job can attest to that no matter what position held or how much money is being made.

“Love you. I’ll text you.”

“Love you.”

With two years in, I’m still considered to be a rookie around the studio and yet I can’t recall too many moments when I’ve ever felt like one. The executives, producers, and all of my colleagues have been pleasant. One of the surprising perks has been my dressing room. Like all spaces in the beginning, it started off as nothing more than a desk and a chair in the corner of the room. Since then, it has transitioned from looking like a prison cell to being filled with the warmth of nude shades and the comforting scent of eucalyptus and spearmint. There are a few finishing touches that I’m going to work on, but even without them, it’s nearly as comfortable as my den area at home.

“Good morning Sarai.” Amy poked her head into a small opening at the door in the same manner that she always does, as if it makes her presence any less invasive since she doesn’t knock.

“Morning.”

“So, I just want to make you aware of a slight change on the docket today. We’re going to pull about twenty minutes of the show’s typical running time for a one on one with you and OBJ. It’s just preseason talk. Of course, you two can get into your commentary about him. It’ll be a full circle moment to put a close to that.”

“Excuse me? Is Chad not available for it? I thought we’re having Chris Broussard and Terrell Owens on today?” On Monday we went over everything for the entire week and although we do briefings every morning, nothing has changed until now. I haven’t heard a single comment of possibility that he would be joining us here at the network today.

“As a content creator yourself, you know that it doesn’t make sense for Chad to do it. This is a last-minute call by Chip. I didn’t even know about it.”

“I don’t have any questions prepared for this. This is bullshit.” For the first time ever, I blurted out profanity in the workplace and despite not being proud of it, I couldn’t help myself. I hate being put on the spot with a passion. I am not spontaneous. I’m no daredevil. No, I don’t do everything by the book, but I damn sure try my best to do so, because I can’t stand fucked up results.

“I’d say just pull from priors and maybe draw up a few over the next thirty.”

“Priors? I’ve never interviewed him. Amy, you know this.”

“And I also know of your capabilities, so this will go smoothly. It’s not an in-depth sit down. It’s preseason talk. There’s nothing to stress about. You got it Sarai. You always have it.” Before I could respond, she slipped out of the door.

And that’s the problem. You let people pull some crap on you once and they’ll continue doing it if you don’t put your foot down. They’ve had me go into a random one on one with Serena Williams that wasn’t expected and then there was another with Kobe, prior to his retirement and him being my colleague. Granted, it’s what made him respect me, but I still would have preferred to be ready.

“Girl, you get to sit across from that fine ass man today. Can I meet him? You know I never ask you to meet anyone, but him? I just want to stand in front of him and see if he’s just as fine as he is in magazines and on television. I don’t even care about sports, but I’d make a sport out of slurping him.” I nearly choked on air. Annagjid salaciously ran her tongue over her lips as I glared at her though the mirror and had the audacity to follow up her lewd behavior with a pelvic thrust.

“Just for that, I’ll make sure he keeps his distance. I’d hate for him to refuse to ever come here again.”

“Did you say cum?”

“Anna!”

“I’m just saying. The man looks like a Greek God. That’s Zeus and I’m trying to be Hera.”

“You do know that Hera was most famous for being extremely jealous and vengeful against all of Zeus’ lovers and the illegitimate children he had with them, right?”

“And that’s exactly what I would do if that was my man. Let a bitch try to come after what’s mine and I’m whooping ass on sight.” Her antics never fail to make me laugh and I needed something to lighten the mood after Amy’s curveball in my day.

“You’re nuts. I swear.”

“And your ponytail is looking bomb too. I made sure those edges are slicked to perfection. This dress is hitting every curve and got the ass looking right. You’re ready.” I’d chosen an ash blue sleeveless Roland Mouret pencil dress for today. The only other option I had in mind was this exact dress in black, but it’s Friday and I’d rather not look like I’m heading to mourn someone’s death. It’s classy and there’s something about the golden zipper in the back that makes it sexy. My mother would be pleased. I doubt she’d deem me to be her son in a skirt today.

“I’m ready for what?”

“You have to look your best while in front of him. Every woman should.”

“For what? If I could, I’d interview him in sweatpants and a t-shirt. He’s not President Obama.”

“Obama and those Dumbo ears wishes he looked like that.”

“You know what? I’m not about to allow you to disrespect my forever President over a New York Giants wide receiver, so I’m going to act like you didn’t say that.”

“Oh, I said it. Know and remember that.”

Owens and Broussard were our first visitors which gave me more than enough time to figure out some type of format and direction to what I’d ask Beckham Jr. during every commercial break. I’d describe today’s show as rather lax because we spent far more time laughing at Chad and Terrell’s antics than we did speaking about the up and coming football season and the tension between Kyrie Irving and Lebron James that has lead to him wanting to be traded. You put a set of best friends who happen to be former NFL players together and what do you get? Endless jokes.

“Aye, don’t go too hard on Odell either. You nice as hell but you mean as hell too.” Chad squeezed my shoulders playfully as his warning went into one ear and right out of the other.

“I am not mean.”

“Shit. You boss my bald ass around all the time, but that’s okay, because I like it. You beat by the way. Face is snatched. Edges laid. The ratio between the front of that sandal and your big toe is on point. Apply pressure on they asses.” Chad’s my second favorite, after Fred. I don’t think he takes much of anything seriously and I appreciate it so much because it brightens my day around here.

“You are such a clown yo. Move.” Our laughter filled the set as he wrapped me into a bear hug from behind.

“Don’t laugh too hard because your foundation is going to crack and then you’re going to have smile lines.”

“Never that!” I learned a trick a long time ago to make sure that never happens.

The space where I’d be interviewing Beckham was just another set a few feet away. Though a bit too intimate in setting for what I planned on asking him, I’d take it. It’s less cameras and lights involved. There’s also much less man power around directing which way to sit, which camera to look into, and the timeframe in which you have to get your thought out before moving on to the next topic. When I think back to my days of strictly writing for ESPN Magazine and Sports Illustrated, I can admit that I miss it from time to time. There’s nothing quite like being able to sit down somewhere, with your laptop or even a pen and paper, and just pour your everything into whatever your focus is. I don’t want to say that broadcasting is microwavable journalism because that would be insulting, but it’s extremely fast paced and often time, stories are left behind as quickly as they’re told. I still have clippings of some of my favorite sports articles from my childhood. I have bookmarks online of articles that I’ve enjoyed over the years, some written by people I’ve met in school or elsewhere, and others from those I simply admire from afar. I still grab magazines from the newsstands in the city. Though I do watch all of the other shows on this network, I certainly do make sure to visit the website to check out what our online journalists are writing. There’s something special about studying a subject and descriptively writing about who they are in a manner that exudes the perfect imagery and it moves me unlike anything else. Though I don’t write as much as I used to, I still try to convey that art when I’m sitting down with someone. My aim is to humanize before anything else.

“Sarai Nazaire.”

His low-pitched and yet calming voice commanded my attention and I granted it by turning to where he stood. Much like a week ago, his piercing eyes pervaded my own, as his blonde curls poked out beyond the hood covering his head. He chose to be lax, in a warm green sweat suit and Nike sneakers.

“Hello.” I extended my hand for his own and our skin met in an instant. “How are you?”

“I’m well. How are you?”

“I’m well.”

“This is my mom, Heather.” It was easy to tell. He resembles the tall beauty quite a bit and they have identical smiles. Whenever he speaks of her, he hails her as his reason for not only being but also for the athleticism. She’d been a tremendous track star in her earlier days and even gave birth to him before she could head to the Olympic trials. It makes perfect sense for her to have believed in him when he assured her that he was going to be an NFL player when he was about eight years old.

“Mrs. Van Norman. It’s nice to meet you.” I released his hand and immediately reached for hers.

“Please call me Heather and it’s so nice to meet you. We’re huge fans. We all love you in our house.” If I were their complexion, I’m sure my cheeks would be the color of apples right now.

“Thank you so much.”

“Oh no, I have to thank you. You know, he’s a grown man but he’s also my baby and whenever he is or feels attacked, it feels like it’s coming down on me too. I have never heard anyone outside of friends and family speak as highly of him as you did and it caused such a shift in the way that he is reported on nowadays. He can be a knucklehead and all is fair when he’s having one of those moments, but it really does feel like he’s being given a fair chance to be himself without hell to pay for it.” I’m not a mother, but I can imagine what it feels like to turn on your television or surf the web and see such negativity about your child all over the place. It’s even worse when the negativity stems from situations that aren’t crimes. I didn’t know what the hell I was doing when I sounded off about him, but to hear the manner in which it comforted his mother means quite a bit to me.

“There’s no need to thank me for that, really. The one thing that the naysayers cannot negate is his talent. When he’s on the field, he performs. Everything else is just noise. I believe you birthed a once in a lifetime talent.”

“Thank you.” He voiced the answer for the both of them. She’d been too wrapped up in a huge smile to do so before him.

“So, I’m sure you’ve done a million of these. I’m only going to ask you a couple of questions. It’s a short segment. Anything off limits?” Usually, a manager or an agent would approach me prior to any interview and run down a list of details that are off limits. It’s a power move to make sure whoever they’re representing doesn’t have to face the music when asked a difficult question. If you’re smart, you’ll figure out a way to work around it or rework questions to the point of them telling on themselves.

“Nothing is barred. I’m cool with whatever you want to ask.”

“Oh yeah? So, I can ask about your girlfriends?” A light joke for what is sure to be a lighthearted dialogue between the two of us.

“I don’t have any, but you can ask. I don’t mind.” His broadly built shoulders shrugged while a smirk tugged on his lips.

“Is he telling the truth Heather?”

“I suppose so. I haven’t met anyone just yet. I’m waiting on it though. There’s going to have to be a point in time when someone comes to take over and take care of him.”

“You trying to get rid of me?” He glanced over his shoulder at his mom. I hope to muster up enough courage to ask her about her skincare routine because she has a glow that’s stunning.

“Of course not, but it’s the circle of life my child.”

As the room began to clear, I offered him the seat directly across from my own. I looked on, in observation of his body language. That’s the first marker of whether you’re going to have a smooth or difficult time. He chose to sit upright, with credence, and yet his back rested against the chair in an eased manner. Interestingly, he chose to mirror my actions by glancing over my frame to read me. The odd prickling in the nape of my neck that slowly spread all over was a sign that he’s doing a better job than I am.

“All set.”

It’s go time. This is my field and I’m the quarterback here.

“Welcome back to the Sports Haven. I’m Sarai Nazaire and we’re here with All Pro New York Giants wide receiver, Odell Beckham Jr. Odell, welcome to the show.” Much like our greeting earlier, we shook hands for the sake of the camera.

“Thank you for having me.”

“Now, you’re entering your fourth season with the Giants organization. You guys are coming off of a season where it all seemed to be gelling together towards the second half and that led to a playoff run which ended up being cut short by the Greenbay Packers. What are you most looking forward to going into this season?”

“Winning. I know it sounds cliché because that’s what everyone wants to do, but it really is what I’m looking forward to. It was disappointing to lose in the way that we did. It was a blowout but it just served as fuel for me in the off season. I went harder in everything, honestly. I took some for myself but even in the midst of that, I just worked.”

“Did that loss also cause you to have a hatred of boats?” I had to ask and thankfully, he took it in jest. The infamous photograph of a number of the Giants ballers and Trey Songz hanging out on a yacht in Miami just days before that Greenbay game instantly became a media sensation once they lost. The memes and blame game were non-stop for days. If I were them, I don’t know if I’d want to see another boat again let alone be on one.

“No, I still like boats. I spent time on a boat or two during this summer.”

“But given that you’re on this superstar level, you know that it comes with you living your life under a microscope more than most people do including many of your teammates. So how are you handling that now? For most people, it digs under their skin and it’s understandably so. I know you’ve had your moments of frustration. Unfortunately, it’s not something that’s not going to change. All good comes with bits of ugliness, right?”

“Right. One of the things I’m doing is trying to stay out of the microscope. I’ve found myself spending a lot more time at home and away from anything that draws too much attention to me. It’s been different but in a good way. It feels good to be able to comfortably strip away the guard that you have to keep up because of that microscope. Also, I’ve really taught myself not to take things so personally. I play a position in a sport and it comes with all of that, so I had to realize that it’s not so much of an attack on me and even if it is, it all really stems from that position. I can’t allow that to dictate how I live my life or have my happiness.”

“And you had that awakening during this off season?”

“Yeah. I spent a lot of time reflecting and dealing with a lot of emotions that I’ve never felt before and even some pain that I’ve never felt before. Some of it involved football and there were things that didn’t. I had to sort that out and it did a lot of good for me.” I’m always impressed when I hear athletes speak on their mental health. The world views them as figures who play a sport for a living and earns far more money than they deserve to have simply for being entertainers. The majority of them make more money than the doctors who repair them after injury, which can be quite mind boggling when you think about it. Because of that, spectators believe they’re entitled to dictate the manner in which these people live their lives, the way in which they speak, and the level that they believe each and every one of them should be performing at on the field day after day. People wave the entitlement flag at them when they’re not being puppets on a string and never once take the time out to think about the emotional strain the pressure of impressing an entire public of people can put on a person. I’ve had many conversations, off the record, with athletes who have admitted they’ve fell out of love with the sport they play and represent because of the unnecessarily harsh scrutiny and relentless pressure.

“Do you feel like there are people who want you to fail?

“That comes with the territory. There are a lot of people who do, but it’s fuel for me. It serves as motivation for me to continuing grinding and moving forward for those who do support and believe in me. They’re the most important to me. I meet so many people who tell me that I inspire them to be great. On Instagram I see and sometimes I meet kids who go to their barbers and get the dye and haircut done. I can’t let down everyone who buys a jersey to represent me. After what you said about me, I can’t let you down either.” I held my breath as a faint fluttering filled my core and my body’s response was to reposition itself in the seat. My follow up question instantly became stuck in my throat.

“How does this new found inner peace contribute to the up and coming season and to the Giants locker room? How has Odell improved?”

“I’ve become a better route runner and catcher, but I think the most important part that I needed and have become is a better teammate and listener. I’m giving more and putting more into everything. I can feel it in my conditioning, I put it to the test at training camp, and I’m assured in what I intend to bring to the field this season. I’m excited.”

“I’ve been looking into the offense. There’s Brandon Marshall and your young tight end. Sterling Shepard is looking good. I think you guys have a good season ahead of you.”

“Yeah, the defense has always been there, so it’s up to us to get the job done and I think we’re in a pretty good position. We learned from that disappointment at the top of the year.”

“I’m looking forward to it Beckham.”

“You have to come to a game then. Not as an analyst though, just as a normal citizen coming out to enjoy some Sunday night football.” My laughter infectiously sparked his own fit of giggles and the smile that remained on his face warmed my soul like a ray of sunshine. Does this happen with everyone who sits across from him? How the hell does anyone stay angry with this guy?

“That sounds like a plan. I’m about twenty minutes from the stadium.

“And you have to wear this.” I hadn’t even noticed there was a jersey hanging behind his chair. What made me roar in laughter wasn’t the jersey, but the fact that the numbers were in snakeskin. I’ve been gifted many jerseys but I’ve never seen one customized like that. It’s interesting looking in a good way. I’d wear that as a cute top for a chill outing with friends if the circumstances were different.

“I’ve seen a lot of football jerseys but with snakeskin? Never. Thank you.” I held it up for the camera to see for the sake of good TV and placed it across my lap.

“You’re welcome.”

“Odell, it’s always a pleasure to have you up here. You have to come back soon. I wish you all the best on this up and coming season.”

“Thank you, Sarai.” Yet again, we shook hands and I held up the jersey once more before we officially wrapped.

I’m usually a bit more courteous in the way I send guests off before disappearing into my dressing room, but my goodbye was brief and my heel clad feet couldn’t move fast enough to escape the odd tension in the room. I’ve never wanted him to feel like he owes it to me to be nicer than necessary because I said a couple of decent words about him. While I don’t believe that he has any ulterior motives, I do wonder if there’s this sense of sympathy for the manner in which it worked for and against me. I don’t want to be Odell Beckham Jr.’s charity case because he isn’t mine and he certainly wasn’t that day either. I did my job as an analyst; nothing more or less.

Though she insisted on meeting him, Annagjid left for a weekend at home in Philadelphia but made sure to send me a text message ogling over the way Beckham’s sweatpants hugged his thighs throughout the interview. I’m thankful she’s gone, because if given the opportunity, she would have audaciously told him what I read in that message and it would have been the reason I combusted into a pillar of dust out of sheer embarrassment. With that segment done and no Podcast episodes needing to be recorded today, I can get started on my weekend. I’m not only going to grab a bottle of red wine on my way home, but I’m leaving my favorite spirit shop with two. Once I have my take out ordered, I’ll curl up on the floor in front of my living room table a la Olivia Pope and skim through whatever the premium networks are offering OnDemand. I’m behind on Homeland. Then again, I’m way behind on House of Cards, so a lonesome Netflix and chill sounds much better.

“Come in!” My heels were idly lying next to my chair. I walking out of here in Converses. The bougie can go for the week. Street chic is where it’s at.

“Sarai?”

I’m convinced I’m suffering a karma for something that I don’t quite remember doing or the universe is trolling the shit out of me. Whichever way you put it, over the course of these last seven days, all of the silent and yet minimal requests I’ve had for God and my subconscious have not only been the opposite, but have also been a ferocious time frame of mental gymnastics.

“Beckham. What’s up?” With no hesitation, he stepped inside and closed the door behind himself. The oxygen supply is diminishing as we speak.

“About those tickets. Look.” There were two of them in his hand.

“You never said anything about tickets.” He didn’t. He only encouraged me to come out and support the team. I figured it was in jest.

“How could I invite you to a game and not have tickets for you? These are for the Philly game. We play the Cowboys during week one and the Lions during week two, but I feel like our Philly games are super competitive and fun to watch. It’s the better choice.”

“At home or in Philly? You really didn’t have to do this.” And he shouldn’t have. It’ll only worsen the claim that I baby him and deliberately overlook his transgressions because I have a soft spot for the young players. I never want to be differentiated based upon gender but it’s the way of life and I get the short end of the stick depending upon what I say and who it’s in reference to. It goes beyond people questioning my job and instead, they question my character. My credentials are online for all to see and yet I still am accused of fucking my way to the top. Gossip blogs have connected my pussy to every athlete that has stood within five feet of me and I don’t personally know any of them beyond the former ones I work alongside five days a week. My dating life is endlessly analyzed though the only thing I’m in a relationship with has batteries and sits inside of my bedside drawer. I don’t know what narrative will be painted if a camera catches me at one of this man’s games and I don’t want to know. I’m looking forward to the day when I’m no longer identified by his story. I’d like to think he’s just as sick of seeing my name synonymous with his in the headlines.

“In Philly. I can get you a ride out there if you need one.

“I’m sure that I can manage. I don’t have a car, but I’m looking into a couple of Mercedes Benz dealerships in New Jersey so that I can finally get the car that I’ve been eyeing.”

“What kind? My guy Phil Campbell manages the inventory in both Manhattan and Paramus. I can reach out to him for you. He’s a cars guy, believe me when I tell you. He’ll get you right for sure.

“Nothing too special. Just an A-Class sedan for now. My pockets aren’t as deep as yours.”

“I’m still on my rookie contract. I wouldn’t say they’re that deep.” Rookie contract or not, with his Nike deal and all of the other endorsements he has, he’s a millionaire many times over already.

“Well I’ll tell you this much, my ESPN contract certainly isn’t worth ten point four million dollars.”

“It should be.” This guy. What a paradox.

“So, this Phil guy can help out?” I don’t care about cars enough to research specs and special features. “All I want is a sunroof, seat warmers for the winter, and an amazing sound system. Everything else is whatever, honesty.”

“He knows his shit. I can send him your information. Knowing him, he’ll get back in touch with you within the next hour or so.” Help is help and my pride can shrink enough to get out of the way when it comes to something that I don’t know. I’ve had my fair share of being loud and wrong and it’s not fun being the idiot in the room once it’s all said and done.

“Okay, hold on.” On my desk, I have my ESPN cards to purposelessly give out in exchange for the management or agent cards of our guests. In my wallet, I keep a few business cards where my personal phone number and e-mail are for the sake of obeying my father’s rule about a business card being “far more professional” than stating your phone number out loud while they plug it into their phone. I don’t give much of those out either. “This is my business card. My e-mail and number is there. You can give him the information whenever. I’m not in that much of a rush.”

“I’ll send it to him in a few minutes, that way you’ll be able to go over the specifics about whatever you want.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s nothing. So, about that Philly game. You’ll be there?”

“I’ll try to make it out.” I’m not going. I wish he had of gifted these to a super fan who would have loved to be in attendance.

“Okay then. I’m looking forward to seeing you there. I already helped with one part of your outfit; you just have to figure out the rest.”

“Oh, I’m supposed to be in Giants gear? What makes you so sure that I’m not an Eagles fan? It’s looking like they’re going to have a damn good season this year.”

“If you are, I intend to change your mind.”

“Hm.” The universe can kiss my black ass and it’s quite black by the way.

“I’ll see you soon Sarai Nazaire.” What’s his fascination with saying my first and last name? I’ve never met anyone who has done that and admittedly, it doesn’t roll off of anyone’s tongue in the manner that it does his. Maybe it’s the French connection in Louisiana that aids in him pronouncing it so well.

“Goodbye Beckham.”

Last Friday I had no desire to hear anything playing on the radio and yet the end of this week has John and I bopping to my best of the 90s Hip-Hop playlist on Apple Music. Who the hell wouldn’t start an eighty-seven-degree Friday off with Craig Mack’s “Flava In Ya Ear” remix and an Oreo Cookie Blizzard from the Dairy Queen? The next stop is for the wine and then I’m free to lounge in my living room in nothing more than an old t-shirt and the lace black thong covering my lower half. I may even turn my phone on “Do Not Disturb” until sometime tomorrow. Hell, is Monday morning a stretch?

The buzzing of my phone in my lap paused my backseat party and the foreign number along the screen riddled me into confusion.

You’re not an A-Class sedan type of woman. That’s not for you. An E-Class Coupe fits your mold; sophisticated, sleek, and breathtaking. If I had a say so, that’s what you’d leave the dealership with, but I don’t. Maybe you’ll take my advice? Have a great weekend Sarai Nazaire.

My eyes panned down to observe the minor trembling of my hand and the appetizing blizzard that was now turning into a milkshake.

Or maybe I’ll throw my phone into the Hudson River.

#fanfic #fanfiction #fan fiction #fan fic

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bestfriendforhire · 7 years

Text

Entry 302

Kayla came running around the corner towards us, stopping and staring at Jarod when she got close. “Hi! Are you Deyanira’s boooyfriend?” she asked. Quickly turning to Deyanira, she asked “What about Brandon!?”

“Hi there. My name’s Jarod. I live here, and I’m actually married to someone else.” he explained. “Who are you?”

“I’m Kayla. IIII live here, and I’ve never seen you before.” she insisted.

“I’ve been on my honeymoon for a couple weeks.” he told her.

“Jarod lives past that gym we were in this morning.” I informed her.

“Really!? Emma told me there’s a pool on the roof of that section! Is it amazing!?” she asked.

“I enjoyed it. There’s also an underground pool that looks like a cave. I can see if Ai or Mai will show you sometime.” he suggested.

“I don’t know if leaving her alone with the twins is the best idea.” I told him. Then I said to Kayla, “Jarod’s the one who invented that flying machine you’ve been using.”

“He is!? Those things are awesome!!!” she exclaimed.

“Flying machines?” asked Deyanira.

“Yes. They’re these small platforms you stand upon and control with a wireless device.” I explained.

“Wow... That sounds interesting.” replied Deyanira. “Are they safe?”

Jarod shrugged and said, “Relatively. The board will auto-adjust to some extent if you seem to be trying to balance, but I didn’t want that taken too far, or you’d be dramatically limited on maneuverability.”

“I assure you that they turned out marvelous. No injuries as of yet.” stated Mila.

“They’re super fun!” exclaimed Kayla. “I can’t believe you built them!”

“Well, Mila usually does most of the actual building. I didn’t even fully design them myself, just the basic layout. Aurora did all the fine-tuning, and I heard James helped out with a little modification of his own.” explained Jarod.

I quickly said, “I really didn’t do too much.”

Jarod’s wry smile seemed like an argument, but we couldn’t say too much in front of Deyanira.

“Kayla, want to check out my lab?” offered Jarod. “I’m going to check on Aurora.”

“Awesome!” exclaimed Kayla.

“Who is Aurora?” asked Deyanira.

“Jarod’s lab assistant.” I informed her.

“Can I see this lab too?” she asked.

“Sure. Come along.” replied Jarod. “Hey, Brandon! I’m stealing your girlfriend.”

“Hey, now! No stealing girls. We’re not exactly dating yet.” stated Brandon. “I mean… we’ve gone on dates, but… it’s not… well.. you know…”

“Do I!?” exclaimed Deyanira, looking a bit perturbed.

“Well, I mean… we didn’t exactly ever talk about making anything official, and I didn’t want to assume anything. So… are we dating?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll need to talk. Later.” she stated, turning to follow Jarod.

Brandon was looking wildly between his monitor and Deyanira, obviously struggling to focus on both as he took a hit in the game that he should’ve been able to avoid.

After a few steps down the hall, I asked “So are you two dating?”

“We’ll see.” she stated.

“Wasn’t that a little mean though?” I asked.

She smiled and said, “Isn’t he adorable when he’s flustered?”

“I can’t really say I’ve thought of him as adorable ever.” I replied.

<Master, a moment.> signed Mila.

<Yes?> I asked.

<Aurora’s rather active in the lab. This may not be the best time for Deyanira to visit.> she informed me.

<I see. Thank you.> I told her.

“I’ve just been informed that Aurora is in the middle of an experiment, and we’d best not interrupt her at the moment.” I announced.

Jarod turned to look at me curiously for a moment, but his expression changed after a moment. <Is she using one of the suits?> he asked.

I nodded, since Deyanira was looking at me.

“Sorry, guys. Next time. I suppose I should’ve asked Mila about that first.” stated Jarod. “Care to play around on the… hmm… I really should name those. How about…”

“ZOOMIES!” exclaimed Kayla.

Grinning, Jarod said, “Sure, why not.”

“Mila, can you spare a body for safety?” I asked.

“Anything for you, master.” she told me. “I’ll bring four right up.”

“Uh… Maybe I’ll just watch.” stated Deyanira.

“Mila, mind bringing an extra and getting Brandon out back?” I asked.

“As you wish, master.” she told me. “Lady Pendreigh will be joining you as well. Oh. Ai and Mai will be coming to yell at Jarod. I’ll bring a couple zoomies for them.”

Jarod laughed and nodded. Then he said, “Kayla, I might require your help naming more things in the future.”

“Really!? Sure thing!” she exclaimed. Grabbing Deyanira’s hand, she said, “Race you there!”

I was worried for a moment, knowing Kayla was wearing her suit, but she kept her pace somewhat reasonable as Deyanira chased after her.

“Is her brother as excitable?” asked Jarod with a grin.

“More anxious than anything. I’m sure he’ll relax eventually.” I replied.

“I’m glad to be home. As beautiful as the island was, I missed being able to tinker. Seeing everyone is good too, of course. This place can change so much week-to-week. Even Brandon’s probably catching my stats on Ancient Tribes of Earth now.” he told me.

“I somehow doubt it. Glad to have you back.” I told him.

He suddenly grabbed my arm. Then he said, “You’re really not wearing a suit, are you. Was there a problem?”

“Oh. My magic interferes with the enchantment I place on them. Turns out that I don’t really need them.” I told him.

Jarod barked a laugh and said, “I’ve noticed.”

“Umm… really. Turns out I can move faster than Alma when she’s wearing a suit. Some things happened, and I found out how to control my magic a bit better.” I explained.

“Wow.” he stated, shaking his head. “You really get more amazing all the time. What are you going to do next? Realign a planet?”

I adamantly said, “No. Of course not. I wouldn’t even begin to know what would be safe. Even if I did the math and everything, there’d be no explaining it. Besides, why would I want to do that? I’m sure there’d be consequences, other than the entire world wondering what happened. I suppose I could give a giant meteor a shove if one was coming toward the planet, but even then, there’d probably be a cost…” I realized I had been rambling, lost in my thoughts about the details of doing such a thing while trying to avoid the memories I had of feeling such power. I said too much.

“You can really do it, can’t you…” he stated, stopping and staring at me.

“I… sorta discovered something while you were away.” I admitted.

He nodded and waited.

“Remember that stone room with all of the engravings?” I asked.

“Yeah…” he stated.

“I know how to use it now.” I explained.

“Use it? What do you mean exactly?” he asked.

“You can’t tell your wives about this, okay?” I demanded.

He nodded, frowning.

“I haven’t told Alma either, but that room allows me to access a powerful source of magic. Overwhelmingly powerful. The things I could do from there are frightening.” I insisted.

“Such as moving a planet.” he replied with a nod. “Wow. Can anyone use it?”

“No… From what I gather, most people would die if they somehow managed to start it.” I told him.

He nodded again and said, “You probably absorb enough energy to counter its negative effects. I wonder if its creator could do something similar? Even worse, someone might have figured out how to create it, tried it, and died. Still, useful thing to have in your arsenal, isn’t it?”

“I never want to use it again.” I stated.

“What? Why not?” he asked.

“Jarod, power like that is too much for me. I could accidentally wipe out our planet. I don’t really want to talk about it.” I admitted.

He looked like he was about to argue, but then he shrugged. “Okay. But wow… seriously. That’s incredible. I hope you can muster the courage to use it if there is some sort of catastrophe. Great power, great responsibility, and all that.” he teased with a wink.

I nodded, still feeling glum. I wished I could convey to him how frightening the experience was. How could I really get the point across without bringing someone else in on the secret?

Jemal ended up joining us as well, claiming he wanted to supervise his sister. I could tell he was having fun. Deyanira seemed to enjoy herself as well. I was glad we convinced her to try one, until I heard her gasp and watched her fall.

Mila easily caught her, but my little fairy friend was plainly visible, eagerly telling me about her day. Alma could probably take away the last couple minutes of memory from Deyanira, which would probably be the simplest solution, but would that really be the correct one? I wasn’t sure.

#Best #Friend #For #Hire #Jovial #Times #Fantsay #Fiction #Story #Brandon #Deyanira #Jarod #Kayla #Mila

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