The private jet was really private: only me, Dad, Bob Hansen, Flip, Fawn, and these two other Swiftriver employees, Justin and Al. They cracked me up. They kept joking and punching each other — kinda like brothers. They work for the company doing lots of things like setting up equipment. It was their job to set up our Riley Mae booth at the college and haul in a hundred or so boxes of shoes.
“Best job I ever had,” Al said, as he finished setting up the overhead canopy at our booth. “Where else do you get to travel in a private jet, set up a few things, and then go relax and get tan?” He grabbed a folded-up lounge chair and went looking for — I guess — some sun.
“Hey, that’s my chair!” Justin ran after him, grabbed the chair, and they fought over it for awhile.
“You’re wasting my tanning time,” Al yelled. Flip was circling the guys, taking all kinds of pictures during their little scuffle. He has a whole slideshow on his computer of hilarious Justin and Al moments.
Bob Hansen came running over to the booth. “Everything looks great. I hope you’re ready, Riley. They’re expecting about eight hundred girls at this clinic. Make sure they get excited about the shoes!”
I wasn’t sure if I was still excited about the shoes. I felt a little scared too — this was the biggest event I had been to yet. I still didn’t like that the shoes were so expensive, and I was worried about Rusty and the softball game back home.
“Can I go get something to drink?” I had to ask Fawn’s permission to leave the booth — that was an order from my dad, who had gone to the college library to find a way to print out some forms or something for Bob Hansen.
Fawn was arranging the shoe display to make it look nice. Justin and Al had just plunked the stuff down.
“Well . . .” she looked at her watch and then at the display, which wasn’t quite ready. “I can’t really leave just yet, but . . .” She looked over toward the snack shack which was only a little ways away.
“I guess you could go over and get something without me. You’re a big girl.” She smiled and handed me a twenty dollar bill. “Get four water bottles. No soda. See if they have any fruit.”
I really wanted to get a lemonade, so I did. Fawn had just said no soda. And lemonade had fruit in it. If she didn’t like it — tough. Arizona was hot and lemonade was necessary.
I turned away from the snack bar and bumped into a young man dressed in nice clothes. One of the water bottles fell to the ground. He reached down to pick it up.
“Oops, sorry about that, young lady.”
As he handed me the bottle, he smiled.
“Hey, aren’t you Riley Mae from Swiftriver shoes?”
He was dressed like some of the reporters I had seen at different Swiftriver events.
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“Would you like a hand with that?”
“Uh, sure. I guess.” I pulled my lemonade out of the drink carrier and handed him the rest. This was the kind of guy Breanne would act silly around.
“I can’t believe this — I’m from Diamond Dust, the girls’ softball magazine. Have you heard of it?”
“Oh, yeah! My friend TJ has a subscription. We get all kinds of good tips from that magazine.”
“Well, that’s great to hear. Hey, your boss and I have been trying to get together with you for an interview about the new Riley Mae shoes.”
“Oh, so you’re a reporter?”
“Yep, I’m kinda new. This is one of my first on-location jobs. I’m a little nervous.”
I could totally relate to the guy. “Yeah, I’m pretty new to all this too.”
He set the drinks down on the ground. “So, how long have you worked for Swiftriver?”
“A few months. I went to my Dad’s office to try on some shoes and they liked me, so they offered me a contract.”
“Wow, that was lucky.” He got out a pen and notepad and started to write some things down.
“Well, I didn’t really know what a contract was — if I did I probably wouldn’t have done it.”
“Why not?”
“Too much work. And I have to miss playing softball, which I love — and now my best friend’s mad at me.”
“Sorry to hear that. But I bet the people at Swiftriver are nice to work with. The company is based in Fresno, California, right?”
“Yeah, that’s where I live too. And the people are very nice. They take good care of me and make me laugh.” I pointed over to the Swiftriver booth. Flip and Fawn were doing what they normally do — Fawn was working and Flip was goofing off, taking pictures of Fawn working.
“So those two are Swiftriver employees?” He wrote some more.
“Flip and Fawn — my photographer and personal assistant.”
“Are they married?”
“Are you kidding? Those two can’t stand each other. Well . . . in a funny sort of way.”
Fawn looked up from her shoe display and yelled my name. Then she started to walk over. The reporter picked the drink caddy up off the ground and handed it to me.
“Well, it was nice meeting you, Riley. I hope we can get a formal interview soon.”
“Sure — thanks.”
“Riley! How long does it take you to get drinks?” Fawn was huffing and puffing in her purple high heels. She shielded the sun from her eyes as she looked back toward the snack shack.
“Who were you talking to?”
“Oh, he was just some reporter from Diamond Dust magazine.” I put my hand over the top of my drink so she couldn’t see it was lemonade.
“A reporter?”
“Yeah, he said he was new.”
“Did he show you a press ID?”
“What’s that?”
“A pass that shows he’s a reporter. What was his name?”
“Um, I don’t know. He didn’t say.”
“But he knew your name.” Fawn grabbed her forehead and started pacing back and forth. What was the big deal? Didn’t Swiftriver want some publicity?
“Well, yeah. He said he’s been trying to get an interview with me and Bob.”
Fawn shook her head and didn’t talk to me as we walked back to the booth. I figured I had broken some law of the contract by the way she was acting. Maybe I’d get fired and I could go back to playing softball and being normal again.
“Flip, get over here. Riley, tell Flip what you told me.”
Flip grabbed his camera off the tripod and quickly walked over.
“Did you do something to upset your personal assistant again?” Flip had that smirky face that he usually has when he’s teasing Fawn.
“Yeah. She doesn’t like that I was talking to a reporter.”
Fawn put her hand on her hip. Flip frowned, which he never does.
“A reporter? Man or woman?”
“Man.”
“What did he look like?”
I had to think about that. I didn’t want to tell him that the man was young and cute and that TJ’s sister, Breanne, would want to date him. So I came up with something close to that.
“I guess he looked a little like you. Only his clothes were neater.” I laughed, thinking that would lighten things up.
It didn’t.
Flip shook his head. “You shouldn’t talk to reporters without an adult. What kinds of things did he ask?”
Now I had to really think. What did he ask? And what did I say? Sometimes my mouth just runs.
“Well, he wanted to know about you two. If you were married. Wouldn’t that be funny?
I thought Flip and Fawn would laugh at that, but instead they exchanged wide-eyed glances.
“Did he say anything else?” Flip asked.
“He asked how long I’ve been working for Swiftriver, and if Swiftriver was in Fresno.”
Fawn looked like she was going to faint. “Did you tell him?”
“Tell him what?”
Flip put his hand on Fawn’s shoulder. “Never mind. It’s no big deal, Riley. We’re just a little stressed about your safety. You have to be careful. Not everyone is who they say they are. I’m sure this guy was a real reporter who wasn’t thinking straight.”
“He did say he was new to the job. I’m sorry, you guys. I didn’t think it would matter.”
“It’s my fault for letting you go off on your own.” Fawn shook her head some more.
“Hey — could we not tell my parents about this? Especially my mom. She’ll freak if she finds out I talked to a stranger.”
Bob Hansen arrived on the scene. “Are you guys ready to get some people excited about shoes?” He looked around at our serious faces. “What’s going on? Don’t like the heat?”
Flip grabbed the lemonade out of my hand and took a big sip. “No — it’s great! Riley got me lemonade, so now I’m happy.”
“Oh good,” Bob continued. Then let’s get out there and meet some nice people!” He started out toward the crowd that was gathering and directed them to the booth.
Fawn whispered in my ear. “You stay right here for the rest of the afternoon. I don’t care how nice the people are — don’t tell them anything. Just smile. If you do, your parents won’t find out a thing. And . . . I’ll get you another lemonade.”
That was all I needed to keep my mouth shut.
After about two hours, Justin and Al came back to take down the booth. They were both red as tomatoes.
“Boss says we’re leaving early. Good thing, since Al ran out of tanning lotion.”
Al punched Justin in the arm. “Yeah, ’cause you used it all. Get your own next time, dude.”
There were still lots of people around, and even though most of the shoes were gone, we still hadn’t done the giveaway yet.
Bob Hansen ran up to the booth. “Riley, have you ever seen shoes disappear so fast? Even those college girls loved them! We might have to think about making some bigger sizes.”
It was fun to meet some of the college softball players. They were so nice — they kept coming up to the booth to get my autograph. I asked for their autographs too, since I want to be a college softball player someday — when I’m not a shoe girl.
“Why are we leaving so soon? We haven’t even done the drawing yet.”
“Gotta get the jet back home — another group from the company needs it. We’ve done a good job here promoting the shoe line, so it’ll be okay. I’m sure you want to get out of here, right?” Mr. Hansen smiled.
Yes, I did. I was still feeling a little stupid about my mistake earlier with the reporter, and I didn’t know what I would say if I saw him again. It was a good time to get out of Arizona.
“Why don’t you just give away a pair of shoes to whomever you want, okay?”
I didn’t have to think about that for more than a second.
“Sure. Thanks, Mr. Hansen. Do we have any size eights left?”
“Check with Justin and Al. They’ll be loading up what’s left.”
I prayed for one pair of eights. Right about the time I said “Amen,” a text came in from TJ:
We lost.
Like I thought.
Guess who messed up?