Page 2 of Raising Love
“That last play got the crowd on their feet,” I continued. “Did you plan that, or were you just in the zone?”
“I’m always in the zone, baby,” Leo began. “It’s easy to be when you’re playing at home with fans as supportive as the Bronx Ballers'. The greatest fans in the country. I love hearing them cheer; it’s as sweet to me as the sound of my heart beating.”
“So, word is you’ve been stepping up as a real leader of the Ballers, alongside our guy Jaleel Gordon,” I said, turning to face him fully. “With Pryce Williams now retired, how does it feel knowing the team looks up to you?”
“Kind of hard for them to look down when I’m one of the tallest dudes on this team, right, Ivy League?” he teased.
I gasped and glanced quickly at the camera, then back at Leo, moving in close enough to pinch him on the arm discreetly.
“Ow!” he quipped, trying to hold back his laughter. “For someone so little you pinch hard, man. Damn!”
“What did I tell you about calling me that?” I whispered fiercely.
Leo grabbed my wrist, pulling the mic closer. “Do y’all at home watching know she’s mean?”
“Aht!” I protested, trying to pull away.
“This beauty is a beast and has a mean streak, so y’all keep that in mind when watching her,” he continued, smirking into the camera. “Say the right thing all the time, or she’ll pinch you.”
I pushed him away, freeing my wrist, and he bent his knees to pull me close and planted a loud kiss on my cheek.
“Ugh!” I tried to hit him with my microphone, but he dodged, laughing along with Jim, who was struggling to keep the camera steady.
This was why my station’s producer always sent me to games to interview Leo. Not only because we’d known each other for years since college but also because we always made viewers laugh with our antics.
Mostly Leo’s antics, if I’m being real.
“Thank you for taking the time to talk to us, Leo,” I said, barely concealing my irritation.
“Always, my love,” he joked, his tone light.
“Shut up,” I sneered, and even that made him laugh.
“Aye, Free-Throw Nation,” Leo declared, looking directly into the camera. “Ivy Pressman is the Bronx Ballers' lucky charm. You have her to thank for tonight. You heard it from me first. Peace.” Leo flashed a peace sign as he walked away from me and the camera, backwards.
“There you have it,” I concluded for the viewers, finally letting my giggles show. “I’m Ivy Pressman, live here at the Bronx Metro Arena, where the Ballers have secured a win that will keep them in the running for the championships. Can they do it? I know they can.”
“And cut,” Jim said, lowering the camera from his shoulder with a smile. “I swear you two are magic on camera, Ivy.”
“Please don’t encourage his foolishness.” I laughed, shaking my head. “Let’s get out of here. My feet are killing me in these damn heels.”
I sat at my desk in the co-working space I rented, staring at the computer screen with tired eyes. I had to blink a few times then bug my eyes out to keep awake. It was just after midnight, and in five hours, I would have been up for twenty-four. It was a chosen torture, the sacrifice needed to make my dreams a reality.
Since I was five years old, watching games with my maternal grandfather, I knew what I wanted to do. At the end of every game, someone was on the hardwood floor, mic in hand, asking players questions. Sports was our bonding activity, and when my grandfather passed away when I was eighteen, I knew I wanted to continue that legacy, which I am doing now at thirty.
“Do y’all at home watching know she’s mean?” Leo’s voice came from the screen.
“Aht!” I watched as I turned to face him on the playback.
I chuckled to myself. “He’s such an ass,” I murmured, my amusement clear.
Leo and I, along with our best friends Kendra, who I sometimes called Kenni, and Tyrell, had been inseparable since our freshman year in college. While Leo pursued NBA dreams, Tyrell became a high school basketball coach. Kendra and Tyrell were expecting, and their baby shower, which Leo and I had organized, was the upcoming weekend.
That's why I found myself editing videos in this overpriced co-working space at such a late hour. With the baby shower around the corner, I knew this might be my only chance to get the edits done.
Editing wasn't necessary, but I chose to do it for the experience. Besides, I had commentary to record for my YouTube channel. It doesn’t have many followers yet, but it's my side hustle that earns me enough each month to buy at least two cups of good coffee.
Fighting off sleep, I slapped my cheeks and reached for my water bottle, standing to set up my camera and lighting. Despite needing rest for tomorrow’s event, I was driven, fueled by the dream of making it big in sports journalism.
