Blown Coverage by Jason Elam Read Free Book Online Page B

get autographs
     when the players pulled up to punch in the gate code.
    Once through the fans, they sped up again, going all the way around to the front of the main building. Just as they rounded
     the front corner, Whitney saw that her hunch was going to pay off. Fifty feet in front of her, Riley Covington was stepping
     out of a black Yukon Denali parked in the guest lot.
    “There he is!” she shouted to Sandoval and began hustling over until she saw another person step out of the passenger side.
    This other man was, as best she could tell, six feet seven and solid as a tree trunk. His hair was shaved tight against his
     scalp, and his dark skin showed lighter scars in a number of areas around his face and head. He was dressed all in black,
     and as he stepped out, his right hand was tucked in the left side of his sport coat.
    Gathering all her courage, Whitney moved forward to intercept Riley before he made it to the building’s front door. She knew
     he had spotted her when he answered his cell phone even though she hadn’t heard it ring. A bigger problem was that the other
     man had spotted her too, and with surprisingly few strides cut off her progress with his body.
    “Riley, please?” she called out, trying to look around the human roadblock. When he looked at her, she made a dainty little
     dip with her knees, and pled with her eyes for him to stop. Riley paused, smiled thinly, and put his cell phone away.
    “It’s okay, Skeeter,” he said as he walked up to her.
    Whitney held out her hand to him, knowing the value of physical contact. “Hi, Mr. Covington. My name is Whitney Walker with
     Fox 31. Is there any way I could talk you into just a quick interview?” She could see that he was annoyed at having to stop,
     so she was laying the charm on thick.
    “Sure, Miss Walker, a very quick one. I have to get in,” Riley said matter-of-factly.
    “Please, call me Whitney,” she said with a flash in her eyes.
    When Riley didn’t respond, it threw her off her game a bit. She had the interview all planned out—flirt a little to loosen
     him up, ask him about his off-season, get him to talk about the tragic and heroic events surrounding his time with the counterterrorism division, then transition to discussing the selection of Afshin Ziafat in the first round of the draft—a perfect
     journalistic coup that was bound to get her noticed by her higher-ups.
    But there was something about Riley that made her uneasy. Whitney had never felt so much pain and struggle in one person before.
     There was a sadness in his eyes that made her want to wrap her arms around him and tell him everything would be okay. She
     tried to ask the first question but couldn’t get it out. The silence became awkward.
    “Miss Walker?” Riley asked.
    After a few moments, Whitney finally spoke, amazing herself with her words even as they came out of her mouth. “Mr. Covington,
     I know you’ve been through a lot. I want you to know how sorry I am for what you’ve experienced. I was just hoping that .
     . . that maybe you would be willing to give us a station tag?”
    Riley’s shock showed in his eyes. “Uhh . . . sure.”
    Whitney quickly wrote out some words on a slip of paper and handed it to him.
    He read it over, then smiled at the camera and said, “Hi, I’m Riley Covington of the Colorado Mustangs, and you’re watching
     Fox 31 Denver.”
    Whitney smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Covington. I hope you have a great day.”
    This time Riley reached for her hand and shook it. “No, thank you. And please, call me Riley.”
    “Do you mind if . . . ?” Whitney asked shyly, holding out her business card to him.
    Riley took it with a smile, then turned and walked toward the entrance of the training center. Whitney watched until the doors
     closed behind him and his friend.
    Sandoval’s angry voice interrupted her reverie. “You just had the interview of a lifetime! I mean, that was one that people
     would be telling stories about for