Fourth Down: A Beaumont Series Next Generation Spin-off

by McLaughlin, Heidi

  “Huh,” is all Noah says.

  “Where’s your bitchy sister-in-law?” I ask, hoping to lay my eyes on the knock-out. It’s odd how Peyton and her sister are identical yet so far apart in personalities.

  “Are you looking to have your balls busted or something?” Noah asks while laughing.

  Again, I shrug. “She’s nice to look at.”

  “She’s engaged,” he reminds me again.

  “Eh, I said look, not fuck. Although . . .” I don’t finish my sentence because I know Noah will punch me if I do. Ever since Elena left, I’ve fantasized about other women. It’s natural, I think. Right after my separation, Elle came to town. A group of us hung out, we started drinking, and my thoughts started wandering right into the gutter where Elle is concerned. I didn’t necessarily see her as the stepmom type, but more so the one I’d go to if I needed to feel pain. Elle comes off as the type of woman who will—as Noah put it—bust your balls, slap you with a whip or paddle, hogtie you, and leave you for dead, all while you’re begging for more. I’m not into role-playing, but if I were, Elle would be in all leather and bossing me around.

  Noah groans. “Are you seriously thinking about sleeping with her?”

  My eyes widen, and I shake my head slowly. “There is absolutely no sleeping going on in my thoughts.”

  Noah rolls his eyes. “I’m glad she stayed home. The last thing I would want to hear from you is how she rejected you.”

  “Don’t worry I’m not looking to hook-up with Elle, or anyone for that matter. I’m swearing off women. They’re nothing but trouble, and that’s something I don’t need right now.”

  Noah pats me on the back. “Things will work out,” he says to me. I appreciate his optimism, but my future looks bleak.

  Peyton comes over to us with the weather girl in tow. I down my drink, preparing for the tongue lashing I’m going to get from Peyton on my mistreatment of her friend. “Julius, I’d like to introduce you to Autumn LaRosa. Autumn, this is Julius Cunningham, wide receiver for the Portland Pioneers.”

  In complete shock, Autumn extends her hand to shake mine. I do, and as soon as our skin touches, I recoil. My actions affect her. She’s hurt but masks it quickly by dropping her hand and changing her stance.

  “It’s nice to meet you,” she says. I don’t know what game she’s trying to play, but I don’t like it, and I find it odd she’s acting like we haven’t already had a conversation.

  “Didn’t we meet on the terrace, Weather Girl?” I raise my eyebrow, sending my jab with emphasis.

  She blanches and looks down briefly before saying, “I should really get back to the station.”

  “Later,” I say without taking my eyes off her.

  Peyton’s not happy. I can tell by the expression on her face and the intense stare she has aimed at her husband. I don’t dare look at him. I’m already in hot water with Peyton, that’s enough.

  “I’ll ride down with you, Autumn. Noah, take care of this.” She points at me, and I know I’m going to get shit for my attitude.

  As soon as they’re out of earshot, Noah says, “What the fuck?”

  “She bothers me.”

  “Then let her bother you on your own time, man. Peyton is livid, and she’s going to want some answers. Did you hook up with Autumn or something? Is she a one-night stand?”

  I shake my head. “Nope, met her here tonight. I just have a bad feeling about her.”

  “Okay, well, tell Peyton in private, not in front of everyone. Jesus, Julius. You don’t want to ruin this woman’s career before it even starts here. That’s the last thing either of you need.”

  As much as I don’t want to admit it, Noah’s right. But I’m not going to apologize. There’s something about the weather girl that is off-putting. With everyone at this shindig, she just happens to be the one who needs a boost in her career, and she just happens to be a sorority sister of Peyton. Never mind Peyton’s job, her connections, her husband, and her famous family. I don’t buy it, and it smells like a heaping pile of shit.

  “I’m out,” I say to my very pissed off quarterback. Yep, I can kiss my Sunday stats goodbye at this point. I’ll grovel tomorrow when I’m sober and not so angry.

  “Good thing you can walk home from here,” Noah says.

  “Yep, see ya in the morning.”

  “Set your alarm. You don’t want to miss the walk-through.”

  He’s right. I don’t. Once I’m out in the hall, I pull my phone out and set my alarm for six a.m. Instead of heading home like I should, I walk a few blocks to the local bar when I get outside. It’s empty, except for two guys in the back, playing pool. I take a seat on one of the stools and order another bourbon. I’m three glasses deep when the news airs. The bartender turns the volume up and hollers to the guys in the back that the news is on.

  “Did I miss something?” I ask, wondering why it’s so important.

  “Ever since they hired the new reporter, I've been more interested in the news.”

  “Same here.” A guy next to me slams his hand down on the bar. “Man, I can’t wait to see her out and about. I’m going to shoot my shot for sure.”

  I’m confused until the anchor says Autumn’s name. The camera pans to her. She’s standing there, in a form-fitting blue dress, with her hair curled and her legs looking like sin. “Fuck,” I mutter as my pants tighten around my crotch. Heels and long legs. The bane of my existence.

  “What a babe,” another guy says.

  “MCAX is now my favorite station. I’m going to have to record the news twice a day just to see her,” another adds.

  “I wonder if some old boyfriend has nudes of her,” says the guy standing next to me holding a cue stick.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I say to him. “Don’t be such a pig.”

  The asshole doesn’t say anything but mumbles to his buddy. These guys are trouble, and I don’t need it. I throw a couple of twenties down, and the bartender asks me where I’m going.

  “Home.”

  “But we haven’t even got the good part,” one of the guys says.

  “There’s nothing good about Weather Girl,” I mutter and walk out.

  Seven

  Autumn

  It’s a rare fall day in Portland. The sun is shining like I said it would, and the temperature is hovering in the mid-seventies. The leaves are the perfect blend of red and gold and give the city a picturesque fall afternoon. I have to say I’m impressed with the foliage, although I will always feel as though Chicago has the best fall colors. With that said, I wouldn’t know much about the foliage on the east coast, which I’ve been told rivals any other location.

  I’m in full swing, so to speak, at the station. My time slots are solid, the team I work with is fantastic, and the staff here at MCAX really puts the station in North Dakota to shame. I get that I needed to work there to appreciate what I have now, but they could stand to learn a thing or two from MCAX, or really any other station for that matter.

  The knock on the door signals it’s time for me to make my way to the sound stage. Even though I feel like I’ve done my job a million times, I still get nervous. Talk to anyone on the street, and they’ll tell you being a weather personality is easy. At least it looks easy to them. You stand there, you point, and you say whatever comes up on the teleprompter because that is what the viewers see. They see me on their screens, doing just that. They have no idea the research that goes into predicting the weather or how one colleague may say a storm will move north, but when you’re looking at the calculations and the jet stream, you believe it’s going to move south. No one also considers that whatever we tell you on air, we’ve written. This means, when I mess up, it’s my onus. I hate being wrong.

  I open the door to find Lisette standing outside of it. Well, not exactly. She’s leaning against the wall, writing furiously on her clipboard and nodding. It took me a few days to remember Lisette is always wearing a headset and often talking to others when she’s with me. We fall in line togeth
er, walking toward the sound stage. As soon as I enter the space, I’m mic’d up, and powder is brushed onto my face.

  “Yeah, she’ll be there.”

  I glance at her without turning away from the young woman making sure my face doesn’t glow under the heavy lights. “Is that about me?” I ask, trying not to move.

  “Yes,” Lisette says. “You’ve been invited to do the coin toss at the Portland Pioneers game this Sunday.”

  “I have?” I turn this time to look at my assistant. “Wow.”

  She smiles and then lets out a hearty laugh. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re pretty popular. Your Chatgram is growing by the thousands.”

  “I have Chatgram?”

  Lisette nods and pulls her phone out. She clicks on an icon, and my face appears. “I started it when I realized you didn’t have an account. It’s the wave of the future. Everyone is using it. We can post images, videos and do live feeds. When you’re on location, I’ll be with you and will manage this for you. But you can post whenever you want or send pictures to me, and I’ll do it for you.”

  “Can you go back to the popular part?”

  As soon as I ask the question, Leon walks in. His smile is beaming, and he claps his hands together. “Popular is an understatement. I’m fielding calls left and right about having you on their radio programs, at their sporting events, and another station even asked if we’d loan you out.”

  “This is crazy. I just report the weather.”

  “Our male demographic for viewership has increased substantially since you went on air.” Lisette flips through the papers on her clipboard and shows me a chart.

  “I mean, that’s good for the station, but—”

  “Yeah.” She nods. “Sex symbol status isn’t what you’re going for.”

  “No, it’s not.” I didn’t have this problem in North Dakota. There, barely anyone paid attention to me. I never thought things would be different, in this sense, in another market.

  Leon steps forward. “Lisette will be with you whenever you’re out of the station on a promo event or special assignment. We’ll also have security with you.”

  “Do I need security?” I ask.

  My boss shrugs. “I’d rather be safe than sorry. The last thing I want is an overzealous fan trying to get to you. Your safety is our priority.”

  “This is crazy,” I mutter.

  “And definitely unexpected,” Leon adds.

  Marvin, my cameraman, signals that my segment is about to start. I make my way to the stage during a commercial break and chat with Aiden and Selena for a bit before the countdown to return to live TV starts. I get into position and wait for my cue.

  “Welcome back,” Selena says. “Now, here’s a look at your evening weather with Autumn.”

  “Thanks, Selena,” I say as I stand in front of the green screen. The preview monitor has my report on it, making it easy for me to point where I need to. “Your drive home is going to be gorgeous but don’t forget your visor. The position of the sun could be a bit blinding. Tonight is a good night to fire up the grill because tomorrow could be a bit iffy. Rain is expected overnight but will dry up by the mid-morning rush. Tonight, we’ll dip into the forties. Make sure your plants are covered because some regions may see frost. Now, here’s a look at sports with Aiden.”

  The camera cuts away, and I sigh in relief. Not because my job is stressful but for complete relaxation. Once the news is done, I tape a couple of spots highlighting the weather that will air in between the national news, and then head off to my dressing room. I change quickly, putting on a pair of jeans, sandals, an oversized sweater, and then request a rideshare.

  “Dinner plans?” Lisette asks.

  “Yeah, with the Westburys and Marchettis. Nothing like being a fifth wheel with the power couples.”

  Lisette laughs. “I can always set you up with someone.” I shake my head, and her eyes go wide. “We could totally do a ‘Find Autumn a Date’ segment!”

  “No. No way. Not gonna happen.”

  “Why not? Leon would totally jump on board.”

  “Nope. Autumn is happy being single,” I tell her. Although, I’m really not. I see the love between Noah and Peyton, and Aiden and Haley. I want that. I want a guy to look at me the way these men look at their wives. But I’m not willing to join a dating app or make my love life a public spectacle. At the end of the day, I want privacy like anyone else.

  Aiden and I meet in the lobby and head toward the restaurant together. The rest of our dinner party is waiting out front when we arrive. Aiden rushes to his wife, they embrace, and a pang of jealousy washes over me. Maybe Lisette is right in the sense that I should find someone, but I also worry about my career. If what Lisette says is true, people will scrutinize my every move, and I need to be cautious.

  After greeting Aiden’s wife, Haley, and Peyton and Noah, Peyton links arms with me, and we follow Noah into the restaurant. He talks to the host and then comes to sit down next to us. “Is it going to rain on Sunday?” he asks.

  “Nope,” I say, shaking my head. “I’m going to be there.”

  Peyton’s eyes go wide. “You’re coming to the game?”

  Her excitement is infectious. My head nods so fast my hair whips me in the face. “Lisette told me earlier that I’m doing the coin toss.”

  “Aiden, did you set this up?” Peyton asks him.

  “No, it must've come from the team.”

  “I’ll make sure you get an on the field media pass,” Noah says. “Normally, they’ll usher you off the field, and that’s it. This way, you can hang with Aiden or Peyton.”

  “Yeah, Peyton can teach you all about football,” Haley says.

  Everyone laughs, and I somehow missed the inside joke among friends. “Okay, what am I missing?”

  Haley waves her hand. “Peyton has tried to teach me, and still to this day, I know nothing. Noah throws the ball, someone—hopefully from the Pioneers—catches it. That’s all I got.”

  The host calls our party, and we follow him to our table among hushed whispers. Noah’s name, as well as Aiden’s and mine, are said as we pass by. We’re seated in a corner, far from anyone but not far enough away from the stares.

  “Does this get easier?” I ask.

  “Nope,” Noah says. “Peyton and I grew up with this because of our fathers. We learned early on to ignore it.”

  “Your dad is so hot,” Haley says with a sigh. Aiden elbows her, and she shrugs. “It’s the truth.”

  “I hated it when I was younger,” Peyton adds. “I used to get so jealous if someone spoke to my dad or if a little kid came up to him. We used to go to Disneyworld a lot when we were younger, and there was always a crowd. Mostly women, throwing themselves at my dad or my uncles. It was annoying.”

  “How did your moms cope?” I ask Peyton and Noah.

  “Well, my parents have a long . . .” Noah pauses and looks at Peyton before continuing. “Someday, I’ll tell you about my parents. For right now, let’s just say, my mom didn’t handle it well in the beginning.”

  “Okay,” I say, dragging the word out.

  Peyton smiles. “These days, my mom doesn’t care. But it wasn’t always this way.” It’s apparent by the way she hangs her head that she doesn’t want to talk about her family. I get it. I’m sure I’d be the same way if my family were uber-famous.

  After dinner, Aiden and I head back to the studio for the eleven o’clock set. Lisette finds me in my dressing room changing into my work outfit. She shows me her phone. On it, a picture of the five of us at dinner.

  “People are intrusive.”

  “Viewers are curious,” she corrects me. “You’re always on, even when you’re not, which is why I tell you to keep your blinds closed at home unless you want someone and their high-powered telescope looking into your bedroom.”

  “I didn’t have these problems in Dickinson,” I point out. “No one cared.”

  “You’re young and beautiful,” she tells me. “You’re go
ing to attract all sorts. Just be careful.”

  “We should be able to use my growing popularity to our advantage, right? Like, fundraisers and such.”

  “We can.”

  “Let’s do it. I’ll work extra if it means we’re raising money for the children’s wing at the hospital, the science centers, and the museums. This would also allow me to be out, meeting the people of the Rose City.”

  “I like the way you think, Autumn. I’ll talk to Leon.”

  * * *

  Leon loved my idea to have Lisette book me for as many social events as possible, and while the coin toss for the Pioneers wasn’t on our list of ideas, I’m happy to be at the stadium. The PR rep for the team sent over a welcome bag, complete with gear for me to wear for the game. I opted for a shirt to go with my jeans and flats and decided to braid my hair into a mermaid tail.

  When I arrive at the stadium, the PR team greets me. They give me a tour of the stadium, show me where I can rest, get something to eat if I need some space away, and direct me to Peyton’s office.

  “Wow,” I say when I walk in. She smiles and comes over to hug me. “What is it that you do here again?”

  “Player analysis. I break down the game, point out the weaknesses, the abilities, and pinpoint where the players and coaching staff need to make adjustments.”

  “So, what you’re saying is you’re the boss around here?”

  Peyton laughs. “Not even close. The players and coaches don’t have to listen, but normally they do. I spend a lot of time watching game films and comparing our players against the team we’re playing on Sunday. If I can expose a weakness on either side, we’re better for it.”

  “And you enjoy this?”

  She shrugs. “It’s different, and I love football. I’ve always wanted to be around sports, and this way, I am.”

  “And you get to work with your husband,” I point out.

  Peyton nods. “There is that benefit.” The use of the word benefit makes me wonder what kind of perks she’s talking about. I’ve read enough romance novels to assume there’s some hanky panky going on when no one is around. Not that I’d ask her.