For Baltimore

The Big Move

It wasn't that Tessa was not accustomed to a cold climate; in fact, having grown up almost exclusively in such a place, she would've wagered that her core body temperature ran a few degrees shy of the expected norm. Nevertheless, as the automatic doors opened upon her approach, she couldn't shake the shiver that crept along her spine, its icy tendrils weaving intricate patterns down her limbs, only to envelope her bare hands. She rubbed them together rapidly for a moment, then promptly shoved them into the pockets of her wool coat and scanned the area. About fifty yards away, the only soul in sight at this hour, stood a professionally dressed man, holding a piece of poster board that simply read: ELLIS. With a final lungful of the cold air, she approached and he took her luggage, stowing it away in the trunk as she made herself comfortable in the back seat of the town car.

Obviously, her new employers had spared no expense. She took a quick inventory; a chilled bottle of champagne, an unopened bottle of very expensive Scotch, and an array of small, two bite maximum hors d'oeuvres. Grabbing a tumbler from the bar, she snatched a few ice cubes from the silver bucket, and cracked open the Scotch. The driver, by some merciful and loving god, did not try to engage her in banal chit-chat. She leaned back into the leather, letting her eyes fall shut. It was late, though she wasn't completely sure just how late, and it had been a tumultuous few days, to say the least. But, she resigned herself to this new reality that you didn't always get what you wanted out of life. In the not so distant past, the opposite had been true and she'd gotten pretty much everything she could've ever wanted; notably, she had been blessed to have acquired an advanced degree, from an high brow school, no less, and upon graduation, she'd had her pick of any number of job offers.

Now, though, she seemed to have worn out that magical mixture of luck, networking, and an overdeveloped ambition to climb the ranks in her respective field. God knew it hadn't exactly been as easy as it sounded. Even if she was able to win over the men who actually hired her, it was the ones she spent most of her time with that took a more calculated approach. Athletes. Professional athletes. Professional athletes that made more money in one evening than she probably made in a year. She swallowed the rest of the Scotch, wincing as it burned its way down her throat and settled in her stomach. Maybe she had just been in the business too long; she was jaded. She mulled over that thought, and then filled her glass again. Maybe she was a little cynical, especially considering she'd only been working for about eighteen months, but she had good reason to be pessimistic.

Rule Number One: never mix business with pleasure. It was a lesson her father had taught her after one of his many, many divorces. It was probably the only valid lesson he ever taught her. Well, no, maybe there was one more... "Don't ever let them push you around just because you're female." That particular gem of advice had been scrawled into a card that congratulated her on her first big job as a sports writer, and copy editor, of a prominent Detroit paper. An older guy, with a large gut, thinning hair, and seniority was primarily responsible for the Lions, which suited Tessa just fine. Football was an asinine sport, with steroid-enhanced, misogynistic brutes that couldn't tell their ass from a hole in the ground. She was all too happy to cover the Red Wings, instead.

She had taken some ribbing in the beginning, along with some borderline sexual harassment, but it didn't take long for her to slip into a routine and, having proved herself with the fact that she actually understood the game, the players began to accept, even respect her. Some were more social than others, speaking to her in the stands between drills. Her most frequent visitor had been Mike Green. Though he was a hockey veteran, he was the new guy in this locker room, and she suspected that he was trying to bond with his new colleagues. And, in some strange fashion, she supposed that included her. He was amiable, charming, even, confident, and witty. And she could admit, at least to herself, that as the weeks went by, and his conversations with her grew longer and more involved, she developed a little crush on the defenseman.