Fringe Player

By Kerry Share

Keri Hilliard is a newly-minted sports journalist on her first assignment: covering open tryouts for an NFL expansion team. It's Jovari Russell's last chance to play professional football, and he's equally determined to both make the cut and avoid talking to the press about it. Even after he saves Keri from an unpleasant situation on the first day Jovari still won't go on the record. She's determined to get to know this enigmatic man, but can she maintain her objectivity while fighting her and Jovari's growing attraction to each other?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Shorts
• Release date: Feb 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094435169

Kerry Share

N/A

Book preview

Chapter One

I still can’t believe how lucky you are.

Keri Hilliard hid her smile behind her third, half-drained glass of Long Island iced tea. Honestly, she couldn’t believe her luck, either. Even a week after landing her new job as an embedded reporter with the National Football League’s new expansion team, she still felt like pinching herself. In fact, the whole previous year had been a whirlwind of life-changing events: ditching her loser former boyfriend, launching her career as a sports journalist, and moving to the city with her two best friends.

Two best friends, that is, who currently seemed bound and determined to swell her ego to the size of a small planet. Well, far be it for her to stop them, especially on the evening before she was due to leave town for team tryouts.

"It’s not luck, Brandon Smalls said, from Keri’s left, rolling his eyes as he reached across the table for an onion ring. Keri worked her ass off for this job. She earned it."

Thank you! Keri said, gesturing toward Brandon with a cheese fry, and shaking her long dark hair out of her eyes so she could glare more effectively. Lord knows I’ve paid my dues.

That was actually putting it mildly. It wasn’t exactly a cakewalk being a Black female reporter in a male-dominated industry like sports reporting. Keri had had to fight more than her fair share of dismissive editors, uncooperative sources, and even a grabby coach or two, to say nothing of the thinly veiled racism that still permeated the business. Still, she wouldn’t trade her career path for anything, and if this job was anything like she’d imagined it would be, all her hard work was about to pay off. At long last.

Yeah, yeah, sure, Keri’s other best friend, Cece Starling, piped up with a dismissive wave of her hand, her carefully cultivated afro bobbing with the movement. "I think we can all agree we respect the hustle. But, come on, Ker; think about it. She paused to waggle her eyebrows suggestively at the other two. All those locker room interviews. Imagine the eye candy!"

Brandon spluttered into his cosmopolitan, a blush rising in his pale cheeks.

Keri, meanwhile, just shook her head and popped another fry into her mouth. "Yeah, because that’s why I got into this industry, she said sarcastically. For the eye candy. Seriously, Cece— have you ever even seen football players up close? They’re all a bunch of meatheads."

Meatheads with abs I could bounce a quarter off of, and quads that I’d like to put my head between, Cece said, with a lewd, daydreamy look in her eye.

"Uh, that’s your type, not mine."

Cece sighed heavily as she reached for an onion ring. They’re wasted on you, she said, with an air of great regret.

What time do you have to leave tomorrow? Brandon asked, swirling his drink. Blond haired, with baby blue eyes that could make any girl swoon— if only he were interested in them, that is— Brandon was a photojournalist that Keri had met while in college. It was times like these that she was glad of his company; at least someone was taking her job seriously.

I have to be on the road by four if I want to get there in time for morning tryouts, Keri replied, with a weary smile. Honestly, she probably should have left today, but she hadn’t been able to resist one last night out with her friends.

Brandon and Cece pulled twin faces of disgust, evidently appalled by such an early departure.

Damn, Cece said, dragging a manicured nail around the rim of her margarita glass and sucking the salt from the tip; where’s this tryout field at, Jamaica?

Nearly, Keri replied, with a wry laugh. It’s like an hour northeast of Framington. Which was four and a half hours northeast of her apartment. Lord, it was going to be a long day tomorrow.

Brandon still looked as though he’d just sucked on a lemon. So, basically in the middle of nowhere, he surmised, not inaccurately. "Why do they do it like that, anyway? Like, are they really that afraid of other teams stealing their secrets?"

Keri hummed thoughtfully as she swirled the dregs of her Long Island iced tea. No, not so much that. I think it has more to do with wanting to keep the players focused on football and not, you know, going out clubbing or acting foolish when there’s work to be done. Fewer distractions in Podunkville, population five hundred and seventy-three.

Cece snorted audibly. "They don’t want any distraction, yet they’re sending you out there. She pointedly looked Keri up and down, lingering at length on her slim-but-stacked build and the stud in her nose. Seems like an oversight to me."

I think that was a compliment, Keri said, glancing at Brandon who winked slyly, so, thanks, but I’m a professional. If I’m a distraction I’m not doing my job right.

If you say so. Cece didn’t sound entirely convinced. For as long — going on fifteen years — as the two had known each other, the woman had never really understood Keri’s job, nor her passion for her chosen specialty. It had long since become clear to Keri that she would never make her best friend understand it, or even treat it like anything less than an oddity. I still don’t understand how in the year of our lord 2021, you can’t do your job from home.

Keri fought not to roll her eyes or groan. Cece had taken it especially hard when she’d learned Keri would be gone more or less the entire summer, and that regular travel out of the state for more than half the year was part and parcel of her job. She understood to a point, but the two of them had never gone more than a week without seeing each other, and with the prospects of her hot girl summer thoroughly dashed, Cece was feeling particularly put out — and not at all shy about letting Keri know it.

Let’s not get into that again, Brandon said swiftly, once again coming to Keri’s rescue. It’s Keri’s last night.

Fine, Cece said with a little more sharpness than she probably intended, but if she hooks up without me, I’m emailing everyone I know our Junior Prom photos. Remember, Ker? Back when you thought you looked good in orange?

Can you send those to me anyway? Brandon said curiously, earning himself a swat on the arm.

Meanwhile, a thrumming beat had picked up overheard and Cece squealed, Ooh, I love this song! Can we go dance now, please?

Keri could hardly say no (partially because Cece was already dragging her out of her chair), so the two of them left Brandon behind to watch their table and made their way to the dance floor. It didn’t take long for the two women to attract attention and soon, much to Cece’s delight if not Keri’s, they soon had a whole host of men around them, hips swaying and grinding to the music.

They stayed for the next song, and the next. Part of Keri wanted to retreat to the safety of the table, but the other, drunker part of her resisted. It’s the last chance I’ll have for a while, she told herself. Might as well have fun. And so she lost herself in it, dancing until her legs felt like jelly and would support her no more.

Brandon had a fresh plate of hot wings at the table by the time the friends stumbled back, supporting each other by the arms and laughing in gasps.

Oh, I needed that, Keri said, and collapsed into her seat once more. She reached down and surreptitiously doffed her sandals, wincing at her tender feet.

Damn right you did, Cece replied, sliding back into her own chair. You’re so tense all the time, Ker. Whatever are you gonna do without me all summer?

Excuse me, sorry for interrupting.

One of the men that had been dancing with Keri and Cece had approached their table, sliding easily into the empty fourth chair as if he had been invited. He was about their age, dark-skinned with a square jaw, and wearing a confident smile as he fixed Keri with a steady gaze. Hand on cheek, he planted his elbow on the table and leaned in front of Brandon, fully obscuring him from Keri’s view. Staring deeply into Keri’s eyes, he said, I just wanted to tell you you’re the most beautiful lady I’ve seen tonight.

"Wow, all night? Cece said sarcastically, her head just visible over the stranger’s shoulder. What a compliment."

The man ignored her. I was hoping I could get your number.

Keri leaned back in her seat slightly and shook her sweat-dampened hair from her eyes so she could appraise her would-be suitor. He was nice-looking enough, clean-cut with greenish brown eyes and a runner’s build. The part of her brain soaked in alcohol urged her to go for it, but she knew better. At least she had a ready excuse.

I’m flattered, but I’m actually about to go out of town for a while, so it’s not really a good time for me.

"You can have my number, though," came Brandon’s voice from behind the man, and Keri