Page 19 of A Little Too Forward

“Hold on,” I interrupt. “This documentary is about Max Daws? Max Daws of the Toronto Nighthawks? That guy?”

“Is there a problem with that?” Bruna asks, her head tilted just so at the camera.

I don’t answer right away. My thoughts are zooming around, and I can’t get a handle on any of them.

“You don’t seem to be thrilled at the idea,” Ricky comments. I must not be hiding my facial emotions well if he can spot that.

“It’s not that I’m not excited at the prospect…” I have no idea what was coming after that. All I can think of is smothering Max’s face with a pillow. How dare he interfere with my career. Even if it is a once-in-a-lifetime offer. An opportunity to work with SNN—and Bruna Rose!—doesn’t come around very often. Or ever.

“Daws has stipulated that you are the only host he’s interested in working with.” Bruna folds her hands on the small sliver of desk I can see in the video and leans forward. “I don’t want to pressure you, but if this is a project that doesn’t appeal, we will potentially lose the entire thing. Daws has turned down every other host we’ve pitched to him.”

“Wait. So I wasn’t even your choice?”

“To be honest, Sabrina, no,” Bruna starts, making my spine straighten, stunned. “ And that’s nothing against you, your talent, or anything along that vein. It’s just that we have full-time staff who have experience doing sports documentaries, and we went with them first. We’re happy Daws brought new talent into the picture, but with new people come new risks.”

“Like them saying no and the documentary being cancelled,” Ricky interjects dryly.

“Yes,” Bruna sighs, her tone annoyed. “Like that. Thanks, Ricky.”

My eyes flick back and forth between Bruna, Ricky, and a note-taking East. My pride, once again, has been hit, but this time, I’m a little okay with it.

Do I want to cave in to Max’s charity, a clear violation of professional boundaries…yes. But I also don’t want him holding this over my head for the rest of his life. I’d have to do the unthinkable—have a conversation with him to lay boundaries.

If I’m going to take this job—which, let’s face it, I am—he’d have to understand that us working together is part of my job. It’s not an opportunity for him to apologize or get back into my good graces. We’d be colleges. Documentary host and the main subject.

God, he must be loving the idea of a documentary all about him. The lucky bastard.

“Sabrina? How are you feeling about everything? We could go over the contract first if you’d like, or if you have any concerns, I’m happy to field them. We are getting a bit tight on time, so…”

“I’m in,” I say loudly, making up my mind on the spot. “I’m in, but I would like a section of the contract to state that if the documentary goes well, I’ll remain on the SNN team as a freelance reporter for a period of twelve months. I need to know that SNN has faith in me. That you’re not just doing this for Max; you have faith in my abilities too.”

Ricky’s face looks absolutely stunned. He’s going a little red as he fumbles for words. Bruna, however, is really staring at me. She’s looking for something, but I’m not sure what.

Finally, after what feels like an hour of silence, Bruna nods.

“We can do that. SNN needs more people like you, Sabrina. People who know their worth and fight for what’s right. You remind me a little of my younger self.”

My eyes practically bug out of my face. “That’s so incredibly flattering. Oh my God.” My mouth opens and closes, but no words come out as I try to communicate how monumental her comment is.

There’s no time though. Bruna simply gives a tiny nod at my fangirling and continues. For our remaining time together, we go over the contract, the aim of the documentary, and the timeline until filming.

I only have two weeks to prepare, but I can make it work.

It will also give me enough time to murder Max Daws and then bring him back from the dead for pulling this stunt.

CHAPTER TEN

MAX

When I was a teenager, making Sabrina Sutton mad was my full-time job. She was the cutest thing when her face would get all red and her eyes would scrunch up so tight they’d look like tiny slits. Her red hair was always a mess back then. She wore it long, and the strands were always frizzed in the most unique ways.

I had two younger brothers so didn’t understand how important girls’ hair was. I learned fast, though, not to mess with it…even when they were adults. Yet there was something about Sabrina’s wild hair that was different. Immortalized in my head.

The girl could get angry. Sometimes angry enough to stomp on my foot or sucker punch me in the shoulder. The worst was when she “babysat” my lizard for a whole weekend without telling anyone. I was an emotional mess for two days, and when she finally relented, she handed back the lizard and told me to never steal a fry off her plate again.

It was diabolical. And epic.

I wasn’t sure how grown-up Sabrina would react to the deal I struck. I was hoping as an adult who worked with other professionals on a daily basis, she wouldn’t resort to violence.

---