Ten Years Later

by Lisa Marie Latino

  But now that he was standing before me, I could honestly say that pictures did the man no justice. In person, he was a billion times more breathtaking. He had on crisp white sneakers, blue jeans, and a form-fitting black t-shirt that outlined his bulging muscles. I also noticed a platinum and diamond wedding band wrapped around his finger (such is my life). His bride of eight years only happened to be one of the most beautiful women in the world, Hollywood personal trainer Trisha Anderson, with whom he had three children.

  It’s okay, Carla. Who needed Miguel when I had LoveAtFirstSite Drew? I tried to convince myself. Yeah, right. I looked deep into Miguel’s eyes. “Hi, I’m Carla D’Agostino. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Great season this year!” I felt myself blush at how giddily I delivered the last line. Way to play it cool, Carla.

  “Nice to meet you too, Carla! We came up a little short, but I’m confident we’ll have a big year in 2017,” he replied with a warm smile, his intense eyes locking in with mine.

  I felt an electrical current traveling through every fiber of my being. I hoped my infatuation wasn’t too obvious.

  “I bumped into Miguel and his agent downstairs at Starbucks and invited them up,” Dan explained, breaking our gaze. “Carla, can you call over to the Yankees and make sure it’s okay that we have him on? I have Miguel’s agent in my office; I don’t want to leave him there alone.”

  “Of course,” I cooed, immediately picking up the phone. Miguel did not follow Dan out of the room, and in the corner of my eye, I saw him reading the framed articles on the wall. I noticed Ruby studying Miguel through the glass with a look of sheer delight, an emotion that only showed whenever we had an athlete on the phone or in-studio.

  I hung up with the Yankees’ public relations department and turned to Miguel. I didn’t realize he was standing directly behind me, and I accidentally bumped into his hard chest. “Sorry!” I shrieked, covering my face with both hands to hide my horror.

  “It’s okay!” Miguel assured, his famous smile spread widely across his face.

  I was mortified over my klutziness, but I tried my best to brush it off. “They cleared the interview; all they ask is that you plug the Yankees’ Thanksgiving food drive. They are e-mailing me talking points on it now.”

  Miguel continued to smile. “Sounds good.”

  I begrudgingly turned my attention to Katie’s interview, which was wrapping up. “Tease that we’re going to have Miguel Martinez in-studio after the commercial break,” I told Tommy in his ear. I saw Tommy’s face light up. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see Miguel standing behind me.

  “Coming up, we have another treat for you. We have the one, the only, Miguel Martinez IN STUDIO to talk Yankees baseball. Carla, where the heck did you come up with him?”

  I pushed the on-air button. “Miguel happened to be in our building, and was nice enough to stop by and say hello.”

  Ruby’s smile immediately turned upside down upon hearing my voice hit the studio.

  “Miguel truly is one of the good guys in baseball,” Tommy remarked. “We’ll have him coming on next. Katie, thank you so much for being here and bringing your delicious cakes. Check out her website, and make sure to get your rear ends into her bakery.”

  “Thanks for having me, and special thanks to your producer, Carla D’Agostino, for setting this all up. Carla’s been one my best friends since childhood,” Katie replied. I gave her a silent thumbs up for remembering to mention me. The irritated look on Ruby’s face was priceless.

  “No one’s better than Carla,” Tommy replied.

  “And you did you say Miguel Martinez is here? Carla’s been in love with him since high school. She must be freaking out right now!” Katie laughed.

  My eyes shot open in embarrassment. I furiously mouthed to her “Are you kidding me?” I was afraid to turn around and look at Miguel; I could have sworn I heard him lightly laughing. I wanted to choke her with one of her eclairs. Ruby crossed her arms in amusement.

  “Oh really?” Tommy asked. “Carla’s never told me that. We’ll have some fun then. We’ll be back, right after this.”

  “Don’t you dare,” I whispered menacingly in Tommy’s ear.

  I took a deep breath and carefully turned back to Miguel, afraid of bumping into him again. “I’m sorry about that. My friend doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” I insisted.

  He laughed. “It’s quite all right.” I had noticed he took a couple steps back from where he’d been before.

  Just then, the e-mail came in from the Yankees, and the laser printer quickly printed three copies. “Let me walk you to the studio,” I said, grabbing the sheets of paper off the tray.

  I opened the door and saw Katie balancing a couple of dark brown cake boxes while making small talk with Tommy. Ruby held a mirror up to her face while quickly applying lipstick. When she saw us walk in, Ruby smacked her lips together seductively and immediately stood up.

  “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Miguel. I’m sure you remember me from hosting spring training shows with M-L-B Network,” Ruby sweetly greeted, deliberately ignoring me.

  Miguel paused for a moment. “Of course, I remember!” he politely replied. “Nice to see you.”

  I smirked; all the media training in the world couldn’t help disguise that fact that Miguel had no idea who Ruby was! I loved it.

  “Miguel! It’s been way too long, pal!” Tommy said, giving him a hug.

  “It’s great to see you too, Tommy!” Miguel replied.

  “Miguel, this is Katie, the best dessert baker in the tri-state area, and my former best friend,” I pointedly added.

  “You are a dangerous person to know. Sweets are my downfall,” Miguel chuckled.

  “I’ll leave some samples for you,” Katie replied, blushing. “And I was totally kidding about the Carla thing. She doesn’t have a crush just on you; she has a crush on the whole team.”

  “Katie!” I shrilled, my face turning a deeper shade of crimson.

  “I mean, uh, she loves the whole team because she’s such a big fan! She is such a diehard fan,” she back peddled.

  Ruby stared right at me with a look of discontentment. “That’s our Carla, always keeping things professional.” She started to get the hang of my name about a month ago. Better late than never, I guess.

  Tommy loudly smacked his forehead.

  “Yes, I always do,” I too-sweetly replied.

  Miguel let out a chuckle, clearly amused by the dynamics of our group. “No worries. It’s all good.”

  “Okay,” Katie giggled. I rolled my eyes. She never understood my crush, but I guess seeing Miguel in person drove the point home. Unfortunately, she’d lost her mind in the process at the expense of my reputation. It was at rare times like this that I resented her child-like enthusiasm.

  “All right, we have to get back on the air in ten seconds. Party’s over,” I declared. “Here are your notes. See you all on the other side.” I dropped the papers on the desk and rushed Katie out of the studio. Once back behind the glass, I noticed that Ruby slyly slid her chair closer to Miguel’s.

  “How did I do?” Katie asked as we walked back to the control room.

  I looked at her in disbelief. “You were terrible!”

  “Really?” Her face fell.

  “Well, you were doing great until you dropped the anvil on my head!”

  “I got so excited for you, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I’m sorry,” Katie said sincerely.

  “Yeah yeah yeah.” I gave Tommy the signal that we were back live.

  “That Ruby really is a trip, by the way,” Katie continued. “She barely said two words to me and refused to try anything because the desserts I brought in weren’t her favorite kinds.”

  “How were you supposed to know what her favorites were?”

  Katie grew fidgety. “Um, she said that was your job to find out.”

  I looked at her amazement. “You have to be kidding me.”

  “Nope.”

  “
Well, I can’t say I’m surprised,” I rolled my eyes. “If it’s humid outside, it’s somehow my fault that she couldn’t blow out her hair …for a radio show!”

  “I don’t know how you deal,” Katie remarked.

  “Well, for every hundred days of misery, sometimes you get one that is amazing…” I trailed off, gazing at Miguel through the glass.

  Katie sighed, mirroring my dream-like expression.

  “That’s true. He’s not my type, but there’s no denying the man is lit.”

  I turned my attention to the show. Ruby wasn’t her usual unbearable self and poured on the charm. If she were like this all the time, I could start to understand Dan’s hire; but unless she was talking to Henrik Lundqvist or CC Sabathia or any other elite New York City athlete, she couldn’t be bothered with anyone else. I couldn’t wrap my head around her attitude. If she was that enamored with being around the players, why didn’t she take her model looks and start an escort service?

  Unfortunately, management still wasn’t picking up on Ruby’s split personality. As long as the ratings continued to hold steady, and the advertising checks kept rolling in, they turned a blind eye to everything else.

  I shifted my focus from Ruby to Miguel, who was the consummate professional—charismatic, witty, and smooth. A move to the broadcast booth would be a natural transition once his playing days were over. (I could just see it in lights now: Talking Baseball with Miguel Martinez and Carla D’Agostino.)

  After the segment was over, I rushed back into the studio. “You guys did such a great job talking about the food drive. The Yankees are going to absolutely love that spot!” I raved.

  “Thank you,” Miguel replied humbly. “Do you think I can get a copy of the interview?”

  “Of course!” I answered brightly. “Give me your agent’s e-mail address and I’ll be glad to send him the MP3.”

  “Actually, would you mind e-mailing it directly to me?”

  I was dumbfounded; athletes of his stature never gave out their personal information.

  “Sure!” I exclaimed. “Come with me into the control room and I’ll get your info.” I saw the fire pouring out of Ruby’s ears. I threw her a smug look and sauntered out of the room. Dan and Miguel’s agent were standing by the doorway, waiting for us.

  “One minute,” Miguel motioned as we walked inside. I saw Katie packaging a cake box with a pretty orange bow.

  “Hello, again,” she giggled.

  “Hello,” Miguel laughed. “Is that for me?”

  “Of course!” she exclaimed. “I hope you enjoy!”

  “Awesome! I’m sure I will.” He turned to me. “Do you have a piece of paper?”

  “Here you go.” I handed him a pen along with my show notebook. Katie raised an eyebrow as she watched him scribble his e-mail address.

  “I’m going to give you my cell too, just in case you have any issues sending the file.”

  I froze. An e-mail address is one thing, but Miguel Martinez’s actual, personal cell phone number?! “I don’t anticipate any problems, but sure,” I reassured him.

  Miguel capped the pen and handed it back to me. “Just in case,” he repeated. His hand lingered a second or two longer than it normally would. I wasn’t sure if my mind was playing tricks on me, but I could have sworn his mossy green eyes were sparkling with a hint of mischief.

  “You got it,” I responded calmly, although I felt anything but. Snap out of it, I urged myself. He’s married to a beautiful blonde bombshell; like he would give that up to hook up with a short Italian girl with cellulite.

  “Thank you, Carla,” he said in a hushed tone. He turned to Katie and grabbed the box. “Thank you for the treats!”

  “Call me with any of your needs, er, cake needs,” she caught herself.

  When the door shut behind him, Katie and I locked hands and squealed as though we were eleven years old again, watching the newest *NSYNC video on MTV’s Total Request Live. “I can’t believe Miguel gave you his cell phone number!”

  “I know!”

  “Are you going to call him?”

  The smile vanished from my face. “He’s married! You didn’t see his wedding band?”

  “I must have not noticed it,” Katie answered loudly.

  “Well, it was there, so there is no reason for me to call him.”

  “Keep his number in case of an emergency.” Katie mused.

  “I won’t trash his number; there’s just no reason for me to dial it.”

  “Well, I’ll tell you what. If he orders something from me, you can come on the delivery.”

  I smiled. “Deal.”

  “Okay, walk me out; I need to get back to the store.”

  “Okay, just one second.” I turned towards my computer and pulled up Miguel’s MP3 file. I dutifully emailed him from my work address, but made sure to include my cell phone number, “in case you have any problems opening it.”

  I walked Katie to the lobby. When I came back, the ominous sight of Ruby was waiting for me by the door. “Hey, Ruby,” I casually welcomed.

  “We need to talk,” she answered, thrusting herself into the control room. She walked right over to my desk and eyed the notebook that was open to the page revealing Miguel’s information.

  “Did you send Miguel the interview?” Ruby demanded.

  I slammed the notebook shut. “Um, yeah. Why?”

  “Good. Just know that I don’t need my producer to be distracted by fooling around with the athletes,” Ruby remarked. “You wouldn’t want me going to Dan with that information, right?”

  I took a step closer to her. “What are you talking about? There’s no information to go to Dan with. Our exchange was strictly business, plus he’s married.”

  “If you think you’re going to one-up me by getting the athletes on your side, you are mistaken.”

  That was the most ridiculous thing I had ever heard. “Aren’t you just a little bit paranoid?” I blurted out.

  “I’ve been in this business a lot longer than you. I know these things. Watch your step,” she threatened. She gave me one last menacing look before slithering out of the room.

  I looked back at Gus incredulously. “Did you just see that?”

  He silently shrugged and turned his attention back to the show.

  ■ ■ ■

  “Working at W-S-P-S must be the neatest job ever!” My LoveAtFirstSite.com date, Drew, exclaimed. There are two things wrong with that sentence: 1) WSPS is anything but “neat” and 2) I felt anything but “love at first sight” for him. It was more like “I should sue the website for false advertisement.”

  Looking at him was downright painful. I thought I was getting young Marlon Brando reincarnated but instead, I got Jonah Hill pre-weight loss. He had long, greasy, curly hair that had receded halfway up his head; a set of buck teeth that would have made Mr. Ed blush; and the waistline of a sumo wrestler.

  Normally I would have called him out on lying and left, but I needed a few (free) drinks after the day’s ordeal. Plus, I was dying to try Bamboo Sushi, a two-story upscale Japanese restaurant dubbed as one of New York City’s best by Zagat. The lush décor and fresh selections were as fantastic as advertised, present company not included.

  “It’s pretty good, no complaints,” I muttered, finishing up my second Kettle and club of the hour. (I obviously needed something much stronger than my usual merlot.)

  “I was listening to the show today, did you get to meet Miguel Martinez?” Drew asked as he unsuccessfully tried to grab a piece of sushi with his chopsticks.

  “Yes I did,” I replied coolly, as Drew’s chopsticks flew out of his right hand and onto the floor. He shrugged, and to my disgust, picked up the sushi with his bare hand. He messily dipped it into his soy sauce and brought it to his lips. The dark liquid dripped down his mouth and onto his pale blue sweater-vest.

  “He is my favorite!” Drew exclaimed, mouth still full of fish. He rubbed his dirty hand on his chest. “And how is it working with Tommy and Ruby
?”

  I let out an exasperated sigh. Surely, my ticket to heaven was upgraded to first class after sticking this date out. “Everyone at the station is great. But I don’t feel like talking about it. There’s more to my life than W-S-P-S.”

  “Oh, sorry,” Drew said, reaching down to get another piece of sushi. “It’s just that I’m a huge fan, I listen all the time! Do you know any of the other hosts?”

  I stared at him in repulsion. “I thought I said I didn’t want to talk about W-S-P-S?”

  He stuffed the fish into his mouth. “Sorry.” He innocently chewed.

  I’d had enough. I stretched my neck and desperately searched the vast premises to find our waiter so we could get the check.

  I stopped my search when a familiar figure, sitting alone at the bar, caught my eye. He was staring attentively at his phone while lazily stirring his drink with a straw. Once I realized who it was, I almost hit the floor.

  Miguel Martinez.

  “Holy shit, it’s Miguel!” I exclaimed, ducking my head.

  “Miguel who? Where?” Drew shouted, getting out of his chair.

  “Sit down!” I hissed. “It’s Miguel Martinez. Lower your voice! I don’t want to be obvious.”

  Drew immediately obeyed the order. “Okay, but where is he?” he whispered, leaning close to me. His bad sushi breath turned my stomach.

  “At the bar,” I choked.

  Drew’s eyes grew wide, still inches across from my face. “Do you think you can get me an autograph?” he gasped.

  I would never, under any circumstance, ask an athlete for an autograph, especially out to dinner at one of New York City’s best restaurants. But Drew just presented me with my out.

  “Let me see,” I sweetly replied, quickly sliding out of my bamboo-constructed chair.

  “Really? Wow, Carla, you are the coolest girl ever!”

  As I dashed to the bathroom, I glanced behind my shoulder to see what Miguel was doing. He was still sitting alone, playing with this phone. Oddly enough, no one seemed to notice or care that one of the city’s biggest stars was in the house.

  Once I freshened up, I casually made my way to the bar. As I walked closer, I noticed that Miguel had changed his clothes from before. He had on dark jeans with a white and gray button-down shirt. A shiny silver chain was hanging around his thick neck. He looked even more attractive than before, if that was even possible.