“No.”

The word came out strong and firm; and Josephine “Joey” Potter was sure that her boss knew that she meant it but then Kyle gave her the look. The look that told her there was no way in hell she was going to get out of this one. She pushed her luck, shaking her head vehemently.

“Absolutely not.”

There was more of the look, clear gray eyes gazing at her with mild amusement. “I look nothing like her!” Joey burst point an accusatory finger at the short blond sitting in the plush seat beside her.

Jennifer Lindley smiled faintly, rubbing at her reddened nose with a Kleenex she’d grabbed from the box on the desk in front of her. “She does have a point, Kyle. There’s no way she can past for me.”

“Point proven,” Joey said simply sitting back in her seat. “Why don’t you just send Susan instead?” She added referring to Susan Phillips, the latest columnist added to their staff at the Boston Globe one of the city’s leading newspapers. “She’s dumb and blond. Perfect enough to get an interview with one dumb jock.”

“She doesn’t have enough experience,” Jen retorted and brought a hand over her mouth to mask a sneeze. “Besides Susan’s way too old to pass for me.” At twenty-five Jennifer Lindley was one of the top rated sports reporter in her field, especially considering the fact that she was female, something she used to her advantage. She’d been able to flirt and talk her way into many a locker room and her clear cut way of no bullshit when it came to her work garnered her lots of respect.

The blond cast an unappreciative look at the brunette beside her who did nothing to hide her distaste for Jen’s work. Jen would happily go to interview Pacey Witter herself. The star shortstop for the Chicago Cubs had just signed an unexpected multimillion-dollar deal with the Boston Red Sox causing a stir in the sports community. Jen was lucky enough to pull some strings and get herself an exclusive interview with the handsome baseball player.

Right now any reporter worth their salt was dying for an interview and if Jen didn’t show up tonight for the interview she’d scheduled at the hotel bar, she could just kiss it goodbye. Correction, the Boston Globe could kiss it goodbye, which was why Kyle had suggested someone else go in her place.

Joey Potter was not what Jen had in mind, the girl probably didn’t know a baseball bat from a tennis racket but she was only a year older than Jen which made her the prime candidate for the job and not to mention she was the only other female there that was under the age of forty. Jen quickly appraised how primly the brunette sat in her seat, her wavy brown hair pulled away from her face in a haphazard bun, stray curls framed her heart shaped face and she pushed her black tortoise shell glasses up the bridge of her nose, giving Jen a chance to look at her plain nails.

The girl probably never even heard of make up, Jen mused. She had mascara that could probably really bring out her big brown eyes. She’d even be pretty if she tried instead of acting like everything else was so below her. “Just forget it,” Jen said finally breaking the silence and turned her attention back to her boss.

Joey couldn’t keep her the satisfied grin off her face at Jen’s words.

Jen’s nose was red and sore, her eyes red rimmed and she seemed far too pale in her black pantsuit, her normally bouncy blond hair hung limply over her face. “There’s only two week until spring training begins, I’ll just schedule another interview.”

Kyle Owen winced at how sore Jen’s voice sounded because of her unexpected cold and leaned back in his seat, rubbing at his temples tiredly and looking all of his forty-eight years. His tie hung undone around his neck, the collar of his white shirt loosened, sleeves rolled over his elbows and he looked every bit the seasoned editor he was.

He stared at both girls in front of him thoughtfully. He knew how hard it had been for Jen to get the interview in the first place and it’d be crazy to let the opportunity go by. He rubbed his stubbled jaw tiredly. “I’m sorry, Joey but you’re going to have to go.” He looked at Jen sympathetically. “You know the chances of you getting another opportunity like this…”

The blond nodded her head in understanding while Joey sat up in her seat in shock. “Wait a minute, you can’t expect me to do this. Not only do I not look like her, there’s no way I’d be able to pull this off. I know nothing about baseball.”

“Well, then I guess you and Jen can spend the rest of the day in preparation.” Kyle sighed and sat back in his seat, letting Joey know that was the end of the discussion.

Joey held back a glare and bit the inside of her cheek. “Fine.” She climbed off her seat and shot Jen a glance. “I’ll be at my desk.”

The minute the door slammed behind the brunette Jen sat up in her seat, raising a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “You do realize, this is crazy don’t you? There’s no way Pacey Witter is going to believe that Joey is me, and if he finds out I’ll probably never get an interview again.”

“Well then,” Kyle glanced at the watch on his wrist. “I guess you have six hours to turn Josephine Potter into Jennifer Lindley.” Jen balked and Kyle forced a weak smile. “I have the utmost faith in you.”

“Yeah, it’s not me I’m worried about,” Jen mumbled as she headed out of the room.

Joey fumed behind her desk. Her huge brown eyes were narrowed intently as she typed hurriedly on the keyboard in front of her; the light from the screen gave her face a pale glow. Unruly strands of hair framed her face, and an opened container of uneaten Chinese food cluttered her normally organized desk.

She couldn’t work with clutter but little green post-it notes clung to every available space. On walls, picture frames, on top of the sturdy wooden desk, window shades and on the white pot of the ivy plant, she had at the corner by the window. She couldn’t help but make notes of all the possible column topics that came to her. Now thankfully, because of Kyle and Jen she’d be able to put one to use. When this went out in the evening edition, they’d realize that Josephine Potter was a serious journalist, not some cheesy tabloid reporter. This Pacey Witter—whoever he was—probably had the intelligence of a log, because really, how much brainpower did it take to hit a ball with a stick?

Her eyes fell to the silver frame that sat on the corner of her desk, which held a picture of her best friend Dawson. With his warm hazel eyes, blonde hair and smooth painted lips; anyone would think he came with the frame. She had gotten that dig a lot when she was finishing up her last year at college, her new roommate Belinda had gone out of her way to make her life hell. She used to claim Joey cut the picture of the handsome college football player out of some magazine. Joey had brushed it off, always used to people picking on her just because she chose studying over partying.

Dawson came to visit her once two weeks before graduation with the news that he was going to turn pro and had just been drafted into the NFL, where he then went on to become star quarterback for the Dallas Cowboys. Belinda had thrown herself shamelessly at the gorgeous football star with the amazing biceps, only to find out later on that he was gay.

Joey smiled and remembered the time Dawson had given her prime tickets at the fifty yard line which she spent reading a book on the women’s movement in third world China. Dawson had never invited her to a game again but he took the whole thing well, knowing Joey’s interest in sports was right up there with his interest in females. Slim to none.

She studied the screen in front of her, biting her lip scrunching her face into the most peculiar expression when Jen barged in surprising her. The pencil that dangled precariously from the edge of her desk fell to the tiled floor with a small click. Now on sight alone, Joey would normally take a dislike to the petite blond. She curved in all the right places, with the kind of breasts guys talked at. Her hazel eyes were framed by long, black lashes, set in a cute round face with a small upturned nose and a set of pouty lips. She resembled some over exuberant cheerleader but Joey had come to respect her talent, somewhat begrudgingly.

“Let’s get a few things straight,” Jen began brushing honey colored hair behind her shoulder as she began to pace in front of Joey’s desk. “One, I don’t want to do this. Two, I think you’re absolutely the worst person for this job.”

Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a small ‘o’ of surprise at the woman’s words but Jen went on.

“Now, from this moment on you are strictly under my care. That means you do what I say. If you blow this, not only would you have ruined this interview for me, but you could have ruined any and every other chance this newspaper has of interviewing any sports star. Do you understand?” Hazel eyes hardened in distrust at her and Joey nodded swiftly still too shocked to form words. Jen nodded. “Good. I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

Joey pursed her lips together tightly, her eyes drawn into angry slits. They wanted her to be a sports “reporter”, she’d give them exactly what they wanted. She quickly finished up the column she was working on and made sure to give a hard copy to Chris Thomas, the shaggy haired copy editor. “Here run this instead of what I gave you for the evening edition.”

His chocolate brown eyes stared at her in confusion, a half eaten donut hung from the corner of his mouth. “Did you run this by Owen?”

She nodded the corner of her mouth tilting up in a crooked grin as the innocent lie passed her lips. “Of course.”

Chris raised a black eyebrow as he caught the headline. “Owen is actually letting you run this?”

She smiled again not noticing the effect she had on the thirty year old. “Why else would I have given it to you?”

He shrugged, completely smitten and wiped away a clump of jelly that clung to his chin. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “So, uh, you doing anything tonight?”

Joey’s smile immediately transformed into a scowl when she remembered exactly what she had to do. “I have plans.”

Chris mistook her facial expression for lack of interest. “Okay…Some other time then.”

“Yeah, maybe some other time.” She whirled around and headed for Jen’s office, a satisfied smirk on her face as she walked down the hall.

This would teach her.

“Oww! Oww! That’s my eye!” Joey’s eyelids fluttered as Jen carefully applied black eyeliner. “What’s the point to this anyway? I don’t see how make up is going to affect the interview.”

“Stop moving,” Jen muttered before carefully moving onto the next eye. “Well, after six hours of going over anything and everything baseball, and your complete ineptness when it comes to the sport, I fear we’re going to have to appeal to the predominant female stereotype.”

“In other words, if I’m pretty enough it doesn’t matter what comes out of my mouth.” She rolled her eyes and quickly regretted it when she felt the edge of the pencil against the corner of her eye.

“Precisely.” Jen tried to finish up, growing annoyed with the girl’s fidgeting.

“So, basically, I can recite the alphabet backwards or quote Thoreau and it’d still have the same effect.”

“Exactly.” Jen set the pencil down on the bathroom sink and stepped back to survey her work. The two women had decided to grab take out at a local Thai restaurant and then headed to Jen’s apartment for cramming. After two hours and two bottles of wine, Joey was still not getting the concept of a foul ball or a strike. Jen had resigned herself to fixing the girl up in hopes that Pacey Witter wouldn’t notice that she was a fake. She smiled faintly, the girl cleaned up nicely.

She had fitted Joey into an old black dress of hers that hit Jen around mid calf but fitted the taller girl to her mid-thigh. Joey had balked at the spaghetti strapped piece of cloth as she called it and Jen managed to find a black crocheted sweater to pull over it. Her once wavy hair now fell in sleek strands against her shoulders that she put up in a bun, after Jen spent an hour straightening it with her blow dryer. Her big brown eyes seemed even bigger with the black liner and mascara Jen had applied and her full lips were painted in a soft berry color. Jen released a low whistle. “I deserve an award.”

Joey ignored Jen and climbed off her uncomfortable spot on the toilet seat. She walked over to the medicine cabinet, her heels clicking against the tiled floor. Joey’s eyes widened the first time when she entered the bathroom and noticed the huge roman bath on her left, now she barely glanced at it. Now her eyes widened expressively when she saw her reflection. She hardly recognized the girl in the mirror. She smoothed down her hair, surprised at how soft it felt under her fingertips. “Wow,” she breathed lightly tentatively touching her lips.

Jen grinned brightly coming up to stand behind her. “My thoughts exactly.” She caught sight of the watch on her wrist and grimaced. “Crap, we have half an hour to get you to the Sheriton.”

“Bad idea,” Joey said panicked now that the moment had arrived. “There’s no way I can pull this off.”

Jen grabbed Joey a jacket as she pushed her out into the living room. “Sure you can. You look the part.”

“I look like I’m there to pick him up, not interview him!” Joey balked as Jen guided her out the door and into the hallway.

“Unless you know of someway to remember every baseball fact I’ve told you today then you’re in trouble besides I already gave you a list of questions.”

The brunette’s hands instinctively went to her purse where the questions were held. “Right.”

“And remember, you’re Jen Lindley, not Joey Potter.” Jen reminded as she pressed the elevator button that would take them to the ground floor.

Joey nodded again and Jen almost felt sorry for her when she saw the pure look of terror on her face.

“You’ll be fine,” she reassured. She led her out of the building as the doormen held the door open for them. She hailed a cab. “Breath Joey.”

Joey exhaled a sharp breath, color returning to her pale cheeks.

“It’s going to be fine,” Jen said soothingly as she rubbed her arm.

Sure, that was easy for her to say. The only thing Joey knew about baseball is that if you were truly great you had a candy bar named after you and for some reason that didn’t sound kosher.

Jen led Joey into the backseat of the yellow cab and told the driver where she was headed. She closed the door and said a silent prayer in vain. “She’s going to completely blow this,” Jen mumbled.

At the same time in the cab, Joey murmured the same words under her breath. “I’m so going to blow this.”