Crossing the Line

This book will be released on Galatea around June 13th. After that, only the first 5 chapters will remain available here... Thank you!

APRIL

My name is April, and I used to be a journalist in the political field. However, my local newspaper closed, and I had to reorient myself to another field: sports.

This morning, I have my first team meeting with the big boss, Nicolas. During my job interview, I found him a little on edge, a little pushy with me, but I pretended not to see anything.

Nicolas must be in his forties and always seems on edge. He has this way of standing straight, as if the world were constantly holding a grudge against him.

I sit around the large conference table, my colleagues looking at me with palpable curiosity. I try not to observe them, but I feel their gaze on me, their judgment perhaps, or simply their expectation of knowing what I will bring to this new team.

The big boss finally enters the room. He smiles briefly at everyone, a quick, almost mechanical smile, before settling in and starting the meeting.

— I would like to introduce you to a new member of our team, April Curtis, our new sports reporter. She will be replacing Andy, who has left for New York.

A heavy silence hangs over me, and I immediately feel uncomfortable. Then one of the people, a man in his thirties with a thick beard, claps almost sarcastically.

—Pathetic, a woman for a sports section... Didn’t you have anything better, Nick? he said with a smirk.

I feel my heart racing, but I keep my cool. Nicolas, as if he had anticipated this remark, turns abruptly towards him.

— Shut up, Baltazar. She is very competent. I read her CV, it is perfect. He then looks at me and asks:

— What were you in again?

I swallow, but in a firm and proud tone, I answer:

— Politics.

Baltazar bursts out laughing, a loud and disdainful laugh. But Nicolas doesn’t let him.

— Yes, politics or sport, it’s the same: always a winner and a loser, he comments with a wry smile, as if to turn the remark to his advantage.

Everyone forces themselves to laugh, except me and Baltazar. It’s okay, I don’t like him. Nothing will change. I’m more of a grudge-holding type.

There are two things I hate in this life: idiots and sports.

So when I agreed to become the newspaper’s “sports reporter,” I was a bit sulky. But as they say, you have to eat and pay the bills, and this is the first job I found quickly. And for the morons, I already have one in front of me, and I think that in the field of sports, I will meet others. As they say: “all in the muscles, nothing in the head.”

Nicolas takes off his tie and opens the top of his shirt, as if he suddenly felt hot. Meanwhile, a coffee pot is passed from hand to hand, and when it reaches me, I pour myself a large mug. It won’t hurt me, especially since I slept badly last night knowing that it was my first day.

I take a deep breath and taste it. The coffee is disgusting... anyway. Suddenly, I see that everyone is looking at me.

I missed something. I didn’t listen, too absorbed in my coffee.

— So? Nicolas said to me.

— So what?

— I was asking you if you knew what the big sporting event was coming to the city.

— Football ?

I say this a bit randomly. I don’t know, I’m not really passionate. He sighs, and it’s the idiot, Baltazar, who answers.

— The hockey! We are in the city of hockey!

— Hockey! And you’re going to go right away to make an appointment with the number one player on the team, Samuel Bardan.

I note his name and smile stupidly.

— Do you at least know?

- Yes of course.

I lie so easily that I am shocked by it. Well, I will look it up on the internet later.

— The goal, an interview and a special issue on the whole team, Nicolas told me.

I nod, telling myself that this is going to be more complicated than expected.

I take a deep breath and force myself to stay calm, even though a ball of anxiety forms in my stomach. The interview with Samuel Bardan… It’s a task I hadn’t anticipated at all. And now I really have to immerse myself in this world that I don’t know at all.

Nicolas stares at me for a moment, then leans forward, his hands clasped on the table.

— You know hockey, April, but it’s not just about who scores goals. It’s a whole universe. Have you seen full games? Do you know why people fight so much over those players with sticks and skates?

I feel trapped by his questions. I search for my words, hesitate for a moment before answering.

— I know the basics, but I’m not going to lie to you, Nicolas. I’ve never followed this sport closely.

A silence. Nicolas stares at me, then nods, as if thinking.

—That’s what I want to hear. The truth. But it means you’re going to have to dive in, April. Get out there. Get your hands dirty. This Samuel Bardan isn’t just a player, he’s the face of the team. His interview has to be impeccable. No room for improvisation.

I nod, although a little lost. It’s a huge pressure. No room for error.

— You’re going to ask him about his career, obviously, but also about his role on the team. Why he’s so important. You better understand why everyone follows him, why everything rests on his shoulders. You have to push him to talk about his personal challenges, his relationships with the other players. You’re here to dig, not to give a compliment session.

I’m still digesting this information when he continues.

—Be careful with his answers, April. Don’t let anything slide. This could be a pivotal moment. If you can get him on more personal ground, it’s jackpot.

He stops, sizes me up for a moment, then straightens up in his seat.

— Then you have to start with a broader article. Not just Samuel. The whole team. What unites them, what separates them. Why they perform or not. Something that captivates, you understand?

I feel more and more lost, but I have no choice.

- Yes of course.

He looks at me for a moment, his eyes cold and penetrating, before taking a breath.

— This isn’t just an interview, April. It’s an investigation. A mission. You have one month to complete it and publish it. One month. And you don’t have the luxury of messing it up.

I feel like every word weighs a ton. One month. I have one month to understand an entire sport, a team, a player. It’s scary. But I can’t fail.

He then gets up, gives me one last look, and speaks in a more curt tone:

— Get ready. And most importantly, remember: you’re part of the team now. There’s no way you’re giving up.

Before I can say anything, he heads for the door and leaves the room. I stand there, frozen, digesting everything he’s told me. This interview, this mission… I don’t even know where to begin.

I look at the famous Baltazar who almost laughs in my face, turning his head from right to left. When I say he’s an idiot, he’s an idiot. Next to me, a woman looks at me and smiles.

– Hi, I’m Sheila, fashion and beauty section.

– I’m April...

– Sports section, she says, almost mocking me. She looks at my cup of coffee.

– (He’s disgusting, he’s cheap, we have a very, very tight-fisted but very, very demanding boss. And I really don’t want to put pressure on you, but he’d be capable of firing you if he thinks you’re doing shit.)

- I don’t intend to do shit.

– Well, that’s good then, because you don’t seem very motivated.

– I am, though.

- Really ?

She gets up and leaves the room, giving Baltazar a small smile that annoys me. I drink the coffee in one go. Given its bitterness, I think it must wake me up nicely. Then, I go back to my office. Well, an office… a converted broom closet. But the important thing is that I am alone, and no one to distract me.

I open my computer and type in: Samuel Bardan . I’m going to get as much information about him as possible, and then I’ll try to reach him for this fucking interview.

I feel like I’m diving into the unknown, but I don’t really have a choice.

I continue typing on the keyboard, desperately searching for information about Samuel Bardan. After a few minutes of searching on the internet, I finally come across a page dedicated to him. His athlete profile, his statistics, his team’s performances, everything is there. But it’s another section that immediately catches my attention: the photo gallery.

I click on the first image, and an involuntary smile forms on my lips. He is much more handsome than I would have imagined. His eyes, piercing blue, stare directly at me from the screen, and his features are sharp, almost sculpted. His hair, short and slightly disheveled, adds a casual side to his athletic appearance. He exudes a certain confidence, but that is not what intrigues me the most. It is his smile, a smile that seems natural, sincere, and that contrasts with the image of the tough guy that I had in mind.

– Well, I’ve come to a pretty lucky place, I murmur to myself.

I can’t help but smile as I stare at him a little longer. Okay, he’s probably going to be arrogant, but... he still has his charm. Part of me is starting to wonder if I’ll be able to confront him without becoming embarrassed.

I shake my head to collect myself. No, April, this is not the time to think about that. You have work to do. But his gaze continues to haunt me a little, like a pleasant distraction that I could keep to myself, for a moment.

I scroll down the page, noting interesting points about his career and recent performances. When I finally get the chance to meet him, I hope I don’t stutter too much.