Page 28 of Hiss and Make Up
Marc placed a palm against her lower back and pointed toward a cubicle in the far right corner. The touch grounded her, even through the fabric barrier of her tank top, and sent tingles up her arm.
When they reached his cubicle, he rolled an extra chair over and immediately began hacking at the keyboard.
“So.” Sierra sat beside him. “This is where you spend your days?”
The printer spewed out sheet after sheet of paper.
“I’m not here much, really. I’m at the radio station in the mornings, and I do most assignments on my laptop. I only come here a couple hours a week to touch base with editors. A formality. I think seeing me reminds them they actually have to pay me.”
“So do you have to go to all the games every weekend?”
The printer continued to spit out emails. Marc turned from the screen to load more paper. “One high school game a week in the fall. And the university games, when they play at home. I watch the Saints games from my couch.”
“Sounds…busy,” she said, struggling to keep her tone even and nonjudgmental.
“You’d be surprised. I spend most of my weekends camped out on my couch or scarfing down stadium food.”
“Nowthatsounds like my dream job. You have any openings for a sports reporter?”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “My communications degree and seven years of experience are going to pretend you didn’t say that.”
“Just asking.”
“During the week I spend my mornings in the radio booth, and in the afternoons I plan my next show and research league reports.”
“Wait, so you just report on other people’s reports? Isn’t that like cheating or plagiarism or something?”
“Nope. It’s called research. Plus, I’m only a ‘real’ reporter when it comes to high school games. The rest of the time I’m editorializing.”
“Wow. You’re getting paid to give your opinion? How do I get paid to do that?”
“Youdon’t.” He frowned and grabbed one of the papers coming out of the printer. He looked it over, returned it to the top, and handed her the stack. “You can start here.”
She stared at the papers in horror. What did he want her to do with them exactly? She thumbed through the first couple of pages. “What are they?”
“Love letters.”
Sierra read the first sheet. It began with an offer tonotshove a rake up Marc's butt if he promised to jump off a cliff and die. It got ugly from there.
“Jeez, what did you do to this guy?”
“I told that one that he needed to reevaluate his priorities.”
“Wow, mind your business much?”
“I’m not the one who called the station asking how to convince his fiancee to push back their wedding if his team made the playoffs.”
“Seriously?”
“In his defense, he offered to pay her parents back for the deposit on the hall and the caterers.”
“Gee, sounds like a real winner. But I don’t see this guy sneaking onto your sister’s property to plant a venomous snake.”
“No?”
“For starters, this guy’s not subtle.”
“Good point,” Marc said. “What else?”
