After that day, we started hanging out. She’d come to the dorm, help me with my homework, and I’d invite her to games. Our friendship turned romantic a few months later, and after a couple of years of dating, I asked her to marry me. I thought I had found my soulmate. It turns out I was just her meal ticket to stardom.
It’s funny when you’re in a life and death situation. You say a lot of things to the people around you. For me, I’ve always dreamed of playing professional football. I worked my ass off in college to achieve my dream. Elena’s dream was to work in marketing or advertising. That was until we started dating seriously, and her social media skyrocketed. Then, her dream was to become an influencer and eventually a model. I supported each change in her career wholeheartedly because I wanted her to be happy, and I was in love with her. I thought she was in love with me. She told me we had to have a house in Orange County even though we lived in Portland, Oregon. At first, I didn’t understand why but still gave her what she wanted. Everything became clear when some reality TV show about wives announced she was joining the cast. The show was a hit. Her fame grew. And suddenly, she wanted to be an actress. By now, through all of this, we have two children and are splitting our time between Portland, Huntington Beach, her parents in Delaware, and mine in Michigan. An endless cycle of traveling. I tried to talk to her about it. I tried telling her something had to give. At first, she was defensive, telling me I was trying to stifle her creativity. Then she said if I really loved her and the kids, I’d ask for a trade to one of the teams in California. When I told her no, she uttered the word I never thought I’d hear—divorce.
My world was rocked.
When all of this happened, Elena and my kids were my world, and I couldn’t imagine my life without them. I spoke to my agent, asked what I could do to move to California, and thought about how I’d have to approach my career—that was until I found out she had an affair.
While I was busting my ass on the field, providing the lifestyle she wanted, she thought it would be smart to sleep with her co-star from her theatrical debut. She forgot about the prenup she signed, and now I’m the bad guy.
Now, here I sit, in the house we bought together, the place we planned to raise our children, at a standstill. I want the kids to live with me in Portland, and she wants them to live here with her. My argument is that our oldest, Reggie, is already in school. He has friends and plays Pee-Wee football. Roxy, our youngest, is only three. She doesn’t grasp everything that’s going on and knows Mommy and Daddy sometimes work away from the house. But most often, I’m gone for a couple of days when we have an away game.
“Julius, we need to make a decision,” her voice is like nails on a chalkboard. I used to love listening to her talk, but now, I never want to hear it.
“I’ve told you my stance, Elena. It doesn’t make sense to pull Reggie out of school to move down here. Plus, this puts unnecessary travel on me when I want to see my kids.”
“Well, I can say the same thing,” she fires back. “I’d have to travel to Portland to see them.”
“You’ve done one movie, E. One. With no other movies lined up. It doesn’t make sense for you to be here if you don’t have to be. You can stay in the apartment in Portland, and I’ll go to a hotel. We can swap or whatever. Others have done it.”
“And that doesn’t make sense for me, Julius. My job is here, and this is where I live.” She spreads her arms out, almost as if she purchased the house with her own money.
“Not for long, I’m going to put the house on the market.”
“You can’t.”
I look at her and cock my eyebrow. “I can, and I will.”
“I’ll sue you for the house and alimony.”
I let out a chuckle and decide to stand. I walk over to the window and look out over the expansive ocean. We have a view—that’s it. If we want to go to the beach, we have to drive to it. “You signed a prenup, Elena. A very particular one that states I don’t owe you anything if you partake in an extramarital affair.”
“I never cheated. I only started seeing Sonny after we decided to divorce.”
I turn to her and shake my head. “You must think I’m stupid. I have the photos. I have videos of him coming into the house and leaving in the morning.”
“Those don’t prove anything.”
My hands go to my head, and I groan. “Just stop, Elena. You’re getting the divorce—that’s what you wanted. The rest, I’m not budging on. There is no way in hell I’m paying you alimony, you know this, and your only fight is for the kids. Tell me, what are you going to do if you get a movie role that films out of state, huh? Leave them with a nanny for months?”
“They can go live with you.”
“And interrupt their lives? No thanks.”
I’m about to sit down when the front door opens, and a voice calls out, “You better be naked and ready for me because I’m . . .” his voice trails off when Sonny sees me standing in the room.
I look at Elena and shake my head. “Really? On a day we’re supposed to be trying to work on the arrangement for our kids.” I point at her boyfriend while keeping my eyes on her. “And what if they were here, huh? You just gonna keep them in their rooms so you can get fucked on our white leather couch?”
Elena says nothing. She won’t even look at me, Sonny either. I think he’s afraid of me, which is good. Although, I would never jeopardize my career for the likes of him. He’s a pretty boy, the current Hollywood heartthrob.
“I’m so glad I wasted my day off to fly down here to talk to you. If I were you, I’d talk to ole Sonny boy about shacking up,” I pause and scoff. “Oh, that’s right, his wife kicked him out for having an affair. What a pair.”
I brush past Sonny and head toward the door without saying another word. I’m beyond pissed and hope I send that message to them when I slam the front door. Thankfully, I have a rental car parked in the driveway, which should’ve been a clue to Sonny that someone was inside the house. Right now, I think they’re both out of their minds. It’s the lust fueling them. Once the newness wears off and reality sets in, they’ll both realize how badly they fucked up.
I head toward the airport, weaving my way in and out of traffic. It’s never wise to drive when you’re this angry, but I need to get the hell out of here, even if it means I’ll have to sit in the terminal lounge until I can get a flight. At this point, I don’t care.
After dropping the rental off and catching a shuttle, I flag down a security guard and ask him to get me through security. Sometimes, I wait with the rest of the travelers, but I’m not in the right frame of mind to deal with fans. The last thing I need is some media report calling me an asshole because I wouldn’t pose for a picture or some shit.
Once I’m through security, the guard drops me off at the terminal lounge. Inside, there’s a concierge type person who can help me with my flight. Unfortunately, the next flight to Portland isn’t for a few hours, and it’s full, which means I’ll be on standby until my scheduled flight at eleven tonight.
As soon as I sit down at the bar, the bartender asks what I want to drink. I order my usual “whatever you have on tap” choice and ask if I can get a burger and fries. Not ideal, but it’s been a long day, and it’s going to be a long night.
One stool away from me moves, and I glance to my right. She’s blonde, in a suit, and screams sophistication. Our eyes meet, and she smiles. She’s beautiful, and for a moment, I think about what it would be like to just say fuck it, throw all my morals out the window like Elena has, and ask this woman if she’d like to come with me to the bathroom. The bartender isn’t going to care or even bat an eyelash. He’s paid for his discretion.
“What’s your name?” I ask her.
“Mariana,” she tells me in a sweet voice. “Yours?”
“Julius. My friends call me Jules. Can I buy you a drink?”
“I’d like that.” I motion to the bartender, and she tells him what she wants. She pulls out her phone and starts typing away
. I wonder if I just got played. Does she know who I am or am I overthinking this entire situation? Either way, it’s okay. As much as I’d love to get some aggression out in the form of a bathroom fuck, I’m not ready. Elena did a number on me, and it’s going to take some time to recover. Most of my teammates tell me to start sowing my oats, but I’ve never been “the hit it and quit it” type. Again, I blame Elena. And if Mariana’s telling her friends, good for her. Let her live in the moment.
At this point, everything is Elena’s fault.
Three
Autumn
I lost track of the hours it took to make my drive from Dickinson to Portland. I had a few days to do whatever and mapped my journey ahead of time, pinpointing stops, and booking a hotel. However, I did not plan for the long drive through Montana and ended up staying an extra night at some random hotel along the way. While the trek was beautiful through the state, it was exhausting. I think I danced a bit in my seat when I saw the Welcome to Idaho sign. I also regretted not staying in the small town of Coeur d’Alene because it looked so beautiful. I made a note to add it to my list of places to visit once I’ve settled in Portland.
When I gave my notice to my boss, he told me not to wait, to just go ahead and leave. I found it to be rather rude but figured I might as well use the vacation time I had and enjoy Portland before I have to jump into the fray of telling the fine folks of the Rose City about their weather.
The only issue I had with leaving right away was I didn’t have a place to live. However, thanks to my new assistant, Lisette, she found me a cute apartment, close to the water and within walking distance of everything I will need. I ordered furniture online, hoping it would be comfortable, and had it delivered before I arrived. The drawback is I have to drive to work once I start my rotation because there is no way I’m walking in a city, by myself, at night. Still, I love the idea of walking around my new neighborhood and exploring all the cute, quaint cafes near me.
My apartment complex is bustling with activity when I step off the elevator. I’m on the fifth floor with a usable balcony overlooking the street. I smile and wish the door attendant a good day before I begin my walk toward the station. The sun is shining, I have a fresh cup of coffee in my hand, and my earbuds are playing an audiobook I started during the trip here. I thought I’d have some first-day jitters, but I seem relatively calm for starting a new job in a much larger market. I do remind myself that this is what I went to school for—to be a meteorologist—to be on network television. Portland is the place that could catapult me into stardom.
The walk to the station is thirteen blocks, which is doable except for having to walk under an overpass of a major interstate. Thankfully, Portland has a light rail system called Max, and there is a stop near me. I don’t mind public transportation and became used to it when I lived in Chicago. My friends and I would often take the L train to the baseball games.
As luck would have it, the MCAX station is on a slight incline. I refrain from calling it a hill because I’ve seen some of the hills in Portland, and unless I’m looking to strengthen my calf muscles, I’m going to avoid walking up to them any time soon.
“Good morning,” I say to the lady at the reception desk. “I’m Autumn LaRosa. Mr. Woolworth is expecting me.”
She smiles and welcomes me before calling Sherry. We’ve spoken a few times since our original call, and I’m fond of her. Sherry has been accommodating with this transition. The side door opens, and a woman with a beaming smile comes out, followed by another.
“Autumn?”
“Yes, hi.” We shake hands.
“I’m Sherry, and this is Lisette. I believe you’ve spoken.”
“Oh my,” I say as I pull her into my arms. It’s forward, but I’m indebted to her. “You’ve saved my life with this move. How can I repay you?”
Lisette laughs. “It’s my job to help. I’m very thankful everything went smoothly. Believe me, I’ve had challenges before.”
“Come on,” Sherry says as she motions toward the door. “We have a lot to do this morning.” I follow behind her, with Lisette behind me. Sherry starts talking about the city, the station, and how we’re a big family, which I didn’t have in North Dakota. Every time we run into someone, we stop, and chat and they tell me how happy they are that I’ve joined the team. After we stop in human resources to get my ID badge, Sherry tells me I’ll join Leon for lunch. Once she’s gone, Lisette shows me to my dressing room.
“Whoa.” It’s all I can mutter when I step inside.
“Is something wrong?” she asks.
Slowly, I shake my head. “Absolutely not. At the other station, I had a closet, and I had to make my own vanity, which I brought with me, just in case.”
Lisette laughs as she moves about the room. “Anything you need, you let me know, and I’ll take care of it.” She turns on the light to the bathroom. My bathroom. It’s not huge by any means, and neither is my dressing room, but the bathroom has a stand-up shower and a toilet, of course. My dressing room has a love seat, which pulls out to a bed, according to Lisette.
“The sheets are fresh, as are the towels in the bathroom. We have a laundry service that picks up on Friday if you want to use it or bring things from home. This afternoon, you’ll meet with a rep from Meyers to go over your wardrobe.”
“My wardrobe?”
She nods. “Meyers is a fashion company. They ‘dress’ people,” she says, using finger quotes. “The station provides your clothes.”
My throat tightens. “I’m sorry, what?”
Lisette looks at me like I have two, maybe three heads. Honestly, I feel like multiples are resting on my shoulders right now. Clearly, I misunderstood.
“Did Leon not go over the benefits? No, I’m sure he didn’t. He never does,” she answers her own question. “One of the benefits, aside from the standard sick time, vacation time, etc., is clothing. We want our team to look their very best, and in this day and age of social media, people are quick to point out when an outfit is worn more than once. Leon hates it when his crew is the butt of jokes. This is where Meyers comes in. They work with all the stores and designers to provide the news team with the latest fashion and trends. You wear it on air, we post where someone can buy the outfit, and the store or designer gets credit during the broadcast. It’s a win-win for everyone.”
“Wow, I’m. . . well at a loss for words.”
She places her hand on my forearm and gives it a little squeeze. “I like you,” she says. “You’re going to fit in perfectly.” Lisette takes me to a small conference room on the top floor of our office building, which apparently used to be apartments until the station bought it. People are milling around and eating lunch from the buffet set up against the wall. Leon hollers my name, and everyone turns to look at me. It’s not awkward at all. I’m sure my cheeks are flaming red right now.
“Autumn, this is Selena Rich and Arthur Brentwood, the evening and late-night anchors.” Lisette points to the people whose faces I’ve studied for the past two weeks. “Over there, the guy stuffing his face is Aiden Marchetti. He does sports. This here,” she says as she pulls a guy toward her, “is Marvin Adams. He will be your main cameraman. If you ever feel lost up there, you look for him.”
“Got it.”
Leon finally comes over and welcomes me. He puts his arm around me, resting his hand on my shoulder. “Everyone,” he says, getting their attention. “Meet Autumn LaRosa. She comes to us from Dickinson, North Dakota, after graduating from Northwestern with a degree in broadcast journalism and meteorology.”
“Great, she’s coming for my job,” Arthur says, much to everyone’s delight. “Welcome,” he adds.
“She’s traded in the snow for the rain,” another person says; someone I haven’t met yet.
“Thank you,” I tell the group. “I’m happy to be here, to learn about this great city, and become a part of the community.”
“When’s your first on-air date?” Selena asks.
“Tomorro
w,” Leon says, which is a shock to me. I thought I’d have a few days to acclimate and learn the ropes.
“Wow, Leon. Just throwing her to the wolves, huh?” Selena quips. I’m with her though, what the hell is he thinking?
“Well, I guess I better cancel my hair appointment for tomorrow,” I say jokingly. Good thing I didn’t have one booked. I suppose things could be worse. I could attempt to do the traffic in a city I know absolutely nothing about. At least, with the weather, it’s pretty easy to tell people when it might rain. Being a meteorologist is literally the only job where you can be wrong and never get fired.
Leon leaves me to mingle, which I’m a little unsure of. I’ve never been shy, but there is something about being the new girl that makes me feel—skittish? I don’t know. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly what I’m feeling other than grateful...and maybe a little overwhelmed but in a good way. As I look around the room at my new co-workers, grateful is definitely how I feel. I’ve been given this opportunity, and I plan to make the best of it.
The buffet is calling my name, evident by the low rumble in my stomach. I place my hand over my mid-section to stifle the noise and walk as quickly as I can to the table. Fresh fruits, sandwiches, salads, and cookies fill the space.
“I’m Aiden.”
I look up from the plate I’m trying to fill and smile. “Nice to meet you. I’d shake your hand but . . .” I shrug and show him that both of my hands are full.
“No worries.” He reaches across me to add a sandwich, a bag of chips, and a stack of cookies to his plate, and then he waits for me. When I’m done, he motions for me to sit down. “What do you think of Portland?”
“I like it so far. It’s definitely a change from Dickinson, but right in line with Chicago.”
“Is that where you’re from?”
His question catches me mid-bite. I shake my head and then cover my face with my napkin. Eating in front of people can be so embarrassing. “No, I’m from Corpus Christi, Texas.”
Fourth Down: A Beaumont Series Next Generation Spin-off Page 2
