All in on You

Chapter Four

I've always had a terrible sense of direction. In the literal sense, not the metaphorical one. Although I've been lucky enough to always know where I wanted to go in life, I swear I need Google Maps to find a location that's just a block away. I get it from my dad. My older sister, Serena, and younger brother, Brayden, are spades away from me in this regard and take after our mom.

So that's why I left a half hour earlier than the app suggested. Arriving at the Maille Arena wasn't the issue—that was a short subway ride from my apartment. They're both in downtown Toronto, prime real estate. The issue was finding the room within Maille Arena. When Adam told me that I'd be conducting my sessions in that particular spot, he had emailed me a few brief directions that I printed and now hold in my hands. After making a few wrong turns—because what do east and west mean anyway?—I arrive at my destination. I let myself in with the security pass Robert Callahan set up for me, feeling official as hell.

Just as I place my black tote bag on a chair near the door, my phone rings. I pull it out from the side pocket, check the caller ID, and bring it to my ear.

"Hey, Mom." There's a smile in my voice.

"Hi sweetie. I just called to wish you good luck."

"Thanks. But texting me this morning at six o'clock worked as well."

Now, being an early riser, that's something I inherit from her.

"I wanted to hear your voice."
"I know you did." She's the type of person who doesn't think texting counts.

My eyes scan the room. It's not particularly big, but it has that expensive feel that seems to be this place's signature.

"Are you nervous? You shouldn't be. You've done this before."

I tuck my phone between my shoulder and ear and take out my notebook.

"I guess I've done something similar, but never in a situation where the stakes are as high as this one."

"You'll do great anyways. What's the name of the person you're interviewing?"

"It's Angelo Bradford."

"And you think he's good looking?"

I scoff. "Okay, remind me to never tell Serena anything ever again." My sister has a big mouth. But if I'm being honest, my mom knows pretty much everything about me anyways. I just hadn't had a chance to bring up meeting Angelo yet. Last time I visited my home in Etobicoke, my father had been hovering around us and I didn't get the chance.

As silly as it is, I look around to make sure that no one else is here when I say, "But yes, he's good looking."

"Well, remember to be professional."

I resist the temptation to roll my eyes. It feels like that reminder has been coming from all directions lately. Dr. Wennberg. Adam and Robert and their rule book. My own mother.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." I hear movement on the other side of the door. "Okay, mom, I have to go. I'll call you later."

"Bye sweetie!"

My mom practically yells those words just as the open door reveals Angelo Bradford. His eyes, dancing with mirth, glance at my phone. Shit.

"My mom," I say in way of explanation as I stow my phone back in my bag.

"Oh, that's okay. I'm not even sure what you're talking about." He pauses. "Sweetie."

He's wearing what I can describe only as a shit-eating grin. That, and black Saints athletic shorts, hoodie, and baseball cap.