Page 6 of Hot Damn
Cami holds up her hands. “It’s not me you should be negotiating with. I’m not the head of the network’s sports department. Or the paper’s.”
The GM holds out her phone. “Get me whoever I have to talk to then.”
“You’ll need to call Fenton Barnes.”
“You don’t want to call him?” Oakley asks as the GM says, “We’re going right to the top?” and my head is swiveling back and forth like I’m at some weird three-way tennis match.
Shaking her head, Cami says, “He’ll want to negotiate this.”
“What about Derrick Whitehall?” the GM asks.
“He’ll be who you get after you negotiate the terms with Barnes.”
With each new name my skin pulls tighter and the lead in my gut grows heavier. If I’m doing this, and god help me I’ll admit I’m out of options, then I’m doing it on my terms. “I want you to do it,” I say, my gaze on Cami.
“What?” she asks, her eyes wide when she turns to look at me.
“You.” The more I think about this, the more I’m getting comfortable with the idea. “If I’m going on camera with Whitney, I want you across from us.”
“But—”
“No buts. Either you’re asking the questions or I’ll release a statement giving basic facts and a single photo of the two of us.” I turn to the GM as I pull Whit close. “Take a pic now, with your phone.”
“Jesus. You’re going to be a pain in my ass, aren’t you, Beckett?” Oakley shakes her head. “Fine. Cami does the interviews.”
“Oakley! I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?”
“You know why.”
Oakley shrugs. “We’ll worry about that later.”
I have no idea what passes between the team owner and reporter but the stare-down lasts almost a minute before Cami gives in with a shoulder deflating sigh. “Fine. But when it blows up in our faces, I’m saying I told you so and I want your mesh lace-up booties.”
“My Gianvito Rossi boots?” Oakley asks with a frown. “Brown or black?”
“Both.”
“Shit. Fine. Deal.” Oakley sticks out a hand. “But I want borrow rights.”
Cami
I’m in the owner’s box. Waiting. I know the call is coming and to make sure I’m alone when it does, I told Oakley I wanted some time up here to decide if the suite would work for filming the first of the team’s exclusive interviews.
My phone vibrates in my hand. I still haven’t switched the sound back on and I’m not inclined to do it now because the damn thing has been blowing up since the press conference earlier. I’ve ignored all the calls so far. Except I can’t ignore this one. I have to decide how to answer it though.
Am I Cami Nelson, features reporter for theBaton Rouge Times, or am I Camilla Nelson Barnes, daughter of Fenton Nelson Barnes, owner of theTimesand the FNB network?
I decide to let my father make the decision. Accepting the call, I bring the phone to my ear but I can hear him talking before it’s even next to my face.
“Cam, I’m putting you in charge of this. I want TV and print copy. If I’m giving in to that shark of a woman, I’m getting as much out of it as I can.”
“Ah…okay.” What the hell did Oakley do? Or maybe it was Nat, she’s gone up against Fenton before and won. Something not a lot of people can say.
“Do your interviews on camera but I want a series of feature articles for theTimesSunday edition separate from the TV footage. After they’ve run each weekend, we’ll put them up on the network website. I’ve spoken to Derrick and Bas. They’ve agreed you are the best reporter to do both, and you should be the point person between the team and FNB.”
“You don’t think it’s a conflict of interest?” My father is well aware I’m a silent partner in the company that owns the Rogues’ hockey franchise. And while my connection isn’t a secret, my name is rarely mentioned when the team is in the press.
