Love's Sporting Chance: Volume 1: 6 Romantic sporting novellas

Home > Nonfiction > Love's Sporting Chance: Volume 1: 6 Romantic sporting novellas > Page 22
Love's Sporting Chance: Volume 1: 6 Romantic sporting novellas Page 22

by Janice Thompson


  As she made her way to the stage, Joss was stopped by people who wanted autographs, or hoped to make it on air by sharing their opinion of the event. But almost every person who stopped her said the same two things: I love you guys! Where’s Dan?

  It took fifteen minutes for Joss to walk about twenty feet, but she didn’t mind. When she responded to the fans, her smile and appreciation were genuine. Without them, she wouldn’t be able to do what she loved. When she got to the stage and saw Dan, shadowed by his own cameraman and talking to a couple of men, she smiled again. When they started out, she’d had her doubts about Dan, but he’d really come through. He was a natural on camera, instantly relatable to anyone who’d ever dropped a ball or fallen off a bike. The fans loved him, no doubt about that.

  And Joss had grown pretty fond of him, too. She looked forward to the time they had alone, eating dinner together or flying from one place to another. It was during those times, when the cameras were nowhere to be seen, that they could be themselves. The more she got to know Dan, the more she appreciated him.

  He must have sensed her watching him, because Dan turned his head in her direction, then waved her over.

  “Joss, this is Mike Spencer and Tim Fallon. They co-head the contest.”

  After a round of hand shaking, Tim smiled at Joss. “We’re looking forward to the mini-contest you and Dan have planned. You’re a brave woman!”

  Brave? What did that mean? She looked at Dan, but he just laughed. “If I’ve learned anything while working with her, it’s that nothing scares Joss. Excuse us, gentlemen, we need to get ready.”

  As they walked away, Joss poked Dan in the ribs. “What was all that about? Why would I be afraid of an eating challenge? They’re not feeding us something gross, are they? Like sea slugs or grasshoppers?”

  “Good grief, no!” Dan looked disgusted. “It’s normal food. It’s just…challenging.”

  “Okay.” It didn’t feel okay, but she’d go with it. Dan had certainly trusted her judgment enough times. Besides, whatever she ate, he had to eat too, so it couldn’t be too awful.

  For a while, everything followed their normal routine: a visit to the production trailer, hair and makeup check, sound check, interviewing key players, and then the set up for their exhibition contest.

  The emcee of the contest was Bob Binghamton, a local celebrity best known as the owner and spokesman of Binghamton’s Motor Paradise (“pre-loved vehicles you’ll love to call your own”). Joss and Dan interviewed him on the stage while the contestants gathered behind them.

  “As you can see, we’ve got a ravenous group, chomping at the bit to get down to it.” Bob laughed at the cleverness of his puns.

  Joss held back a groan, instead laughing along with him. “They’d better be ravenous. Last year’s winner consumed 53 hot dogs and buns. Do you expect that level of competition today?”

  “Even better. I expect the winner to go above and beyond. But first, we’ve got a little challenge for you two.” He clapped his hands and rubbed his palms together. “Are you ready?”

  Dan motioned to a small table for two, covered in the same red, white and blue paper as the big tables, but with nothing on it except for a stack of napkins.

  “This should be easy.” Joss pulled out a chair and sat down. “From the looks of it, we’re eating invisible food.”

  Dan sat across from her. “Don’t you worry. Our plates are on the way.”

  Assistants approached the table with two tall glasses of water and two plates topped with silver covers. It was picnic casual meets fine dining.

  Before Joss could comment, Bob addressed the crowd. “In the world of competitive eating, there are all kinds of challenges. Our hot dog contestants are pushing the boundaries of quantity. Joss and Dan, however, are taking on the heat.”

  The servers lifted the covers with a flourish and walked off stage. Just the fumes rising from the plates were enough to make Joss’s eyes water.

  Hot peppers.

  “Surprise,” Dan said with a grin.

  Not a good surprise, either. She was none too fond of extreme spicy heat, and since it was Dan’s idea, she’d guess that meant his digestive system was fireproof.

  “There are five peppers on each plate,” Bob said. “The mildest is the jalapeno. They increase in heat, going to the serrano, the cayenne, the habanero, and finally, the infamous ghost pepper.”

  Incredulous noises came from the audience. Cocking her head to the side, Joss leaned toward Dan. “Ghost peppers? Are you sure you want to do this?”

  “Positive. But if you want to back out, it’s okay with me. Don’t want to scorch your delicate taste buds.”

  The arrogant smirk on his face was enough to spur her on, but to insinuate that she couldn’t keep up with him just because she was a woman…she’d wipe the floor with him. “Bring it on.”

  Bob barked out a laugh. “That’s the kind of enthusiasm we like to see. The rules are simple: eat as many of the peppers as you can in two minutes. The person who makes it to the hottest pepper wins. If it’s a tie, well, we’ve got more peppers waiting.” He laughed again, then picked up the whistle that hung from the lanyard around his neck. “Ready…set…go!”

  At the high pitched scream of the whistle, Joss and Dan each picked up their jalapeno. Dan bit into his and began chomping. Joss’s approach was different. She’d researched the entire sport of competitive eating, not just the hot dog eating segment. There were strategies for every kind of food: meat pies, fruit pies, burritos, oysters, bacon, pancakes, and yes, hot peppers. Thankfully, Joss remembered the hot pepper strategy, although she would have much rather put the bacon strategy into play.

  Avoiding her lips and tongue, she pushed the pepper into the side of her mouth, between her teeth and cheek. She chewed and swallowed, tipping her head back to keep the saliva away from her tongue. Dan finished his before she did and grabbed his glass of water. Big mistake. The water would only spread the capsaicin around his mouth and increase the burn. If he hadn’t insulted her, she might have told him that. Instead, she let him drink while she moved on to the serrano.

  By the time she got to the cayenne, Joss’s mouth was on fire. Despite following the recommended plan, her lips tingled, her tongue burned, and a fine sweat broke out across her forehead. As bad as it was for her, it was worse for Dan. His face was red as a stop sign and even as he gulped water, sweat rolled down his cheeks.

  “Ready to give up?” Joss choked out the words.

  Dan shook his head defiantly and popped the cayenne pepper in his mouth, punctuating his decision.

  Well, she’d tried. Following the same method, Joss carefully put the pepper in her mouth and chewed. Across from her, Dan swallowed, then coughed. Then he coughed harder. Sweat dripped over his brows and into his eyes. He reached up to wipe it away.

  “No!” Joss reached out to stop him, but it was too late.

  His fingers brushed across his right eye. A second later, he jumped from his seat, roaring like an angry bull moose. Not worrying about manners, Joss grabbed a napkin and spit out the remains of the pepper she’d been chewing. Dan was making mostly unintelligible sounds. He rubbed the heel of his hand into his eye and yelled again.

  “We need help here!” She called out, but an onsite medic was already running onto the stage.

  Bob jumped in now, addressing the crowd. “No need to worry, folks. Seems Dan got some of the oil from the peppers in his eye. It hurts like a son of a gun, but it won’t do any permanent damage.”

  Glad to hear that, and confident the medic could help Dan more than she could, Joss concentrated on the second most pressing issue: extinguishing the fire in her mouth. She scanned the crowd and saw a girl of about ten years old holding an ice cream cone. Bingo.

  Joss plopped down on the edge of the stage and crooked her finger at the girl. “Emergency. May I have your ice cream?”

  The girl looked up at her mother, who quickly nodded and pushed her daughter toward Joss. The girl held up
the cone.

  “What about germs?” the girl asked.

  “I’m not worried. No germ could survive this inferno.” She took a lick. The cold was a relief, even though it felt as though she was rubbing her tongue against sandpaper.

  Bob sat down next to her. “Very smart. How did you know to avoid the water?”

  She stopped licking just long enough to give a short response. “Research.” Capsaicin, the thing that created the heat, was an oil. Water only spread it around, making the burning sensation worse. Dairy was a better choice, because the fat helped absorb the oil. Milk was good. Ice cream was best. It wouldn’t completely eliminate the heat, but it would keep it from getting any hotter. As she finished the cone, she put a hand to her stomach. There was quite a commotion going on in there. No doubt she’d regret this in the near future.

  Joss looked at Bob. “I’m starting to think there are no real winners in a contest involving food.”

  He laughed. “No sport is without its potential injuries.”

  For once, Joss agreed with Dan. Not everything classified as a sport really was one. This was more like voluntary torture. But, since cameras were still filming everything she and Dan said and did, she kept her opinion to herself. Instead, she reached in to her pocket, pulled out a twenty dollar bill, and handed it to the girl.

  “Wow!” A smile exploded on the girl’s face. “Thank you!”

  “No, thank you,” Joss said. “You saved my life. And I’m not over exaggerating.”

  Across the stage, Dan was quieting down. He was in a chair, his head tipped back, while the medic squirted something in his eye. The unaffected eye was covered to keep it clear. Off to the side, the contestants who waited to devour obscene amounts of processed meat products and bleached white flour buns were talking amongst themselves, obviously antsy to get started. Joss needed to wrap things up so the show could go on.

  She looked at the nearest camera man. “I think it’s safe to say our pepper eating challenge is a draw. I spit out my pepper, and Dan stopped due to temporary blindness.” The crowd laughed. “Just a reminder to everyone out there…don’t try this at home. Trust me. Don’t.” She put her hand up to her mouth as she held back a burp. “Until next time, have fun and stay safe.”

  The red light on the camera went off. “That’s a wrap.”

  “Thank heavens.” Joss sighed as she jumped off the stage. “I need an antacid

  6

  Although Dan’s plan had been a spectacular failure, it had at least provided an unexpected positive consequence. After the gastrointestinal trauma of the pepper eating contest, Joss agreed that they needed two full days to recuperate. Since they were already in Atlanta, Aaron Crandall insisted they take a third day off so he could take Joss and Dan to dinner.

  Dan arrived at the restaurant first. He was at their table, glancing over the menu when Joss walked up. For a minute, he just stared at her. Other than the day they met, this was the first time he’d seen her in anything other than work clothes. The v-neck of her black dress accentuated her graceful neck, and the fabric of the full skirt swished around her knees, drawing his eyes down to strappy black heels. She’d given up the ponytail for the evening, letting her hair fall freely around her shoulders. The first word that came to his mind was wow. But he couldn’t say that, so he came up with something else.

  “Sorry, I didn’t recognize you at first. You look so… girly.”

  She shook her head as she sat down. “Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “It was meant as one.”

  “You look like a pirate.” She pointed to the patch covering his right eye.

  “I feel like an idiot.”

  “An idiot pirate. Suits you.”

  “Very funny.”

  Joss frowned. “Seriously, though, is that because of the pepper juice?”

  “In a way,” he said with a nod. “It’s actually from me rubbing my eye so hard. Turns out I scratched the cornea.”

  “How long do you have to wear that thing?”

  “Not too long. Another day or so.”

  Her lips pursed into a little pout. “Too bad. Our fans would get a real kick out of Pirate Dan.”

  More than anything, he wanted to keep a straight face, but he couldn’t. When she was like that, looking gorgeous and being playful, all he could do was laugh and play along.

  “Well, if you ask nicely, I might be persuaded to keep it on for our next segment.”

  Before she could respond, her father approached the table. Dan stood and shook his hand, while she smiled her greeting.

  Aaron sat and leaned over, kissing Joss on the cheek. “Good to see you, sweetheart. And you,” he looked across at Dan. “I saw the rough cuts of that pepper contest. What were you thinking?”

  “To be honest, I was thinking it was finally something I could beat Joss at.” He shrugged. “Turns out I was wrong.”

  “Yes, you were. Frankly, I’m not sure if we should air it at all.” Aaron made a face. “It’s disturbing.”

  “We’ve got to air it. Think of all we learned.” Joss ticked off the points on her fingers. “Hot peppers are really hot. Drinking water makes it worse. After you handle a pepper, don’t touch your eyes.”

  Dan adjusted his eye patch. “When you think about it, we’re performing a public service.”

  Aaron looked at Dan, then at Joss, then chuckled. “At least you both have a good attitude about it.”

  The waiter approached and they spent the next few minutes placing their orders, then Joss excused herself and went to the Ladies Room.

  Aaron took a sip from his water glass. “While it’s just the two of us, I want to tell you how impressed I am with the way you’ve handled all this.”

  “Thank you,” Dan answered.

  “Stepping down from the anchor desk was difficult, I know, but believe me, it worked out in the best way it could. You didn’t just dodge a bullet, son. You dodged a heat-seeking missile.”

  Dan straightened his knife and fork, taking time to weigh his words before speaking. He wanted to tell Aaron how frustrating it was to be misunderstood and then have the misinterpretation treated as fact. He wanted to say how hurtful it was that some people believed he was that type of person, and that it rankled to be paying for a sin he didn’t commit. In the end, he decided it was probably better not to mention any of it. Instead, he’d keep it simple. “I appreciate your support, sir.”

  “I’ve never doubted your character and I knew the audience would come around. Which you’ve proven. You and Joss are something of a national sensation.”

  A hand brushed across his shoulder as Joss returned to the table and went to her seat. “Did I hear my name and the words national sensation in the same sentence?”

  “Indeed you did.” Aaron chose a roll from the basket in the middle of the table. “The pencil-pushers at the network are thrilled with your numbers.”

  “Does that mean Fred finally cracked a smile?” Dan asked.

  Aaron laughed. “Let’s not get carried away. As long as I’ve known him, I’ve never seen that man smile. But the last time I saw him, he wasn’t frowning.”

  “That’s progress.” Joss said.

  The waiter brought their salads. Dan snapped his napkin open and spread it across his lap. “I’m glad to hear we’re in the network’s good graces.”

  “And that’s not all.” Aaron pointed his fork at Dan. “There’s something else, and it’s even better.”

  Dan closed his eyes, let his head fall back, and huffed out a big sigh of relief. “Thank heaven.” He looked at Joss and reached across the table to pat her hand. “Don’t get me wrong, working with you has been a blast, but it’ll be so good to get back to Sports Night.”

  Brows furrowing into a deep V, Joss pulled her hand away and turned to her father. “I don’t believe this. I’ve busted my…back to save your Golden Boy’s reputation, and this is how you thank me? By breaking up the team and handing him his cushy job.”

 
; “You’ve busted your back?” Dan let his fork fall against the salad plate with a clatter. “I’m the one who’s been taking all the knocks out there. In the few months I’ve been with you, I’ve seen the medics more than during my entire pro-ball career.”

  “Half the time you fall down on the field you land on me.” She angled her arm toward him. “I still have a bruise from the last time.”

  He rolled his eyes to the ceiling and back. “What is it with you and bruises? You act like they’re a badge of honor.”

  “Oh yeah? Is that why you tried to kill me with chili peppers?”

  “Hey, I got the worst of that. I almost lost an eye.”

  “Please. Exaggerate much? It’s not my fault you didn’t do your research.”

  “And you wasted no time telling America that. People see me as nothing but a big, clumsy punchline.”

  “What can I say? Our viewers are very perceptive.”

  “Take that back.” Dan rose slowly to his feet.

  Joss did the same. “Make me.”

  “That’s enough!” Aaron grabbed Joss’s wrist and pulled her in the direction of her chair, while motioning to Dan to sit. “You two are attracting all the wrong kind of attention now.”

  Sure enough, the other diners near them had stopped eating and were looking their way. Several of them had phones out, taking pictures – or worse, video – of the entire exchange. Dan sat, as did Joss, but he didn’t speak.

  “There now.” Aaron ran his palms across the tablecloth, as if smoothing out wrinkles was the most important task at hand. “You two are getting all worked up over nothing.”

  “We are?” Dan and Joss spoke the words together.

 

‹ Prev