Page 7 of Body Checking
“Everything’s fine. Your friend, the assistant arena manager, what’s his name?”
I hear a woman’s voice in the background ask, “Bean. Who is it?”
“Just Coach. Go back to sleep, Bunny,” he tells her with a soft voice. “Um, my friend. His name is Jordan Fairchild. Why are you asking?”
“I need his number. I have to speak with him.”
“Oh-kay. Well he lives with me. Would you like to speak with him?”
“Yes,” I bark, then try again. “Yes, please.”
“Sure. Hold on a minute.”
I listen as a door opens, then a knock followed by the creaking of another door. A deep voice says, “What the fuck, Jo? It’s eight o’clock.”
“Phone call for you. It’s Hamlin,” Joaquín tells him.
It grows eerily silent then, “Shit. Am I about to get fired?”
“I don’t know, man. Just talk to him.”
I hear a couple more curse words then the clearing of a throat before he finally answers.
“This is Jordan.”
“Jordan. Hey. It’s Cade Hamlin. Listen. Last night during the fan superlatives, there was a shot of a woman that was shown as a split screen with me.”
“The ice-skating bikini girl?” he says.
“Yeah. That one. I’m thinking the camera choosing her wasn’t accidental.” When he
stays quiet, it confirms my hunch. “Do you know her?”
“No sir. I was just asked if I could make sure the camera landed on her, with you, and what it should say. I never got a name.”
I sigh and ask, “Was it another employee that asked you to do that?”
“Actually, it was a sort of friend of mine. Well, an ex-friend of an ex-girlfriend, to be honest.”
“I don’t need a family tree, Jordan, just the woman’s name.” I smack my forehead and close my eyes.
“I’ll ask for her friend's name and get back to you as soon as I hear from her,” he tells me.
I smile and relax. “Thank you, Jordan. I really appreciate your help.”
“Sure thing,” he replies and we say our good-byes.
I scroll through her videos once more and get an idea. I pull up the ticket manager's email and send a quick message. He replies ten minutes later confirming my request. Next I look for the arena’s team store hours and see that I still have two hours before it opens. I grow irritated, but tell myself to just be patient. Good things come to those who wait. Or so they say. I wouldn’t know since I’m impatient and like immediate gratification.
I busy myself with watching game film of the team we play in two days, and writing some notes for Goldie, our team captain
At nine forty-five, my phone chimes with a text.
Santos:Her name is Maren Thompson. >
I don’t bother saying thanks and click the link he sent. It takes me straight to her page and a picture of her smiling face greets me. The top of her page readsMaren Thompson Designs. I scan the text and see she has another link and it takes me to her website.
I scroll through her designs, admiring her creativity, and look for an address that I can send everything to. It takes me quite a bit, but I finally find it, in the smallest print imaginable, and scribble it down. Before I close out, I go to the bio and read it, giving me a little insight into Maren.
