Page 10 of Sportsball is for Lovers

four

. . .

Sadie

Sullivan is waitingin our favorite booth when I walk into the bar. Nodding to Jack, the bartender, I greet my friend with an enigmatic smile.

“What did you do?” he asks, pushing aside his sketchbook.

“I need you to do something for me.”

He glowers at me. “Why should I?”

“You’ll get something out of it,” I insist.

Sullivan rolls his eyes. “So? What is it?”

“I need you to go home tonight and fuck your girlfriend.”

He blinks at me. “I will, thanks, babe. Why the fuck⁠—”

“I need you to butter her up, and I need you to ask her to design my next cover,” I continue.

He snorts, shaking his head because he is so used to my bullshit.

“Yeah, okay. I’m not talking to her about you in bed, though.”

“Whatever it takes. I need her help.”

“You do realize she has a full-time job.”

I shrug. “She’s good at what she does. She could do it full-time if she wanted. I’ve got connections for her.”

Johanna is a graphic designer, and she’s fucking awesome at what she does, there’s no doubt about that. She’s done graphics for me and I’ve commissioned some artwork. There are plenty of full-time cover designers in the indie author space—and even more who do it as a side gig, so she could keep her day job if she wanted. She’s already a huge romance reader, too; it would be a logical progression.

“She doesn’t want the side hustle.” Sullivan sips his drink. “I’ll talk to her, though.”

Jack delivers my beer, squeezing my elbow before he returns to the bar.

“So what’s new with you?”

I’ve been in a self-imposed cocoon for the last few weeks while I finished the book. Aside from my shifts at the bookstore, I barely left my house, and the end result is a book I’m freaking proud of. It might be my best yet.

“Nothing crazy,” my bestie says. “Work shit, family shit, life shit…”

It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “Wow. Lovely. Informative.”

He grins. “Yeah, I am lovely, thank you.”

Lifting my beer to my lips, I take a sip, then sit back with a happy smile. Sullivan and I are an unlikely pair, I know. He’s a good guy. And he’s involved in the book world, so we have professional connections in common. I’m so glad I ran into him at that publishing convention last year and basically forced him to be my friend. He dotes on Johanna, who is part of my Neurospicy Book Club at the store. He’s a good bud to have.

There’s a spring training baseball game on the TV across from us. My face scrunches and I turn away. I deal with baseball enough in my work life, I don’t want to spend my free time thinking about it, too. Even if my team is purely fictional.

Sometimes it pisses me off to no end that I wrote a series of baseball romance novels, because now I can’t enjoy watching a game the same way. It’s work.

Although… I tilt my head as a new story idea flirts with my brain.

“You good?” Sullivan asks.