#never find another like me series | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mlqueen89 · 1 year ago

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never find another like me | hoax (prologue)

pairing: jamie tartt x OFC (ted lasso)

rating: T(language)

word count: 3,704

summary: you know the hero died, so what's the movie for? Nat always thought she was meant for Adam, well, up until now.

A/N: As promised - here's the first chapter of my jamie tartt fic. Be warned, there's no jamie in this chapter, just some background so we're up to speed once they meet! This is my first fic in a while, so please please please, let me know what you think - feedback, comments, constructive criticism - anything is welcomed! <3 I'm also posting over on A03, so if you see this there, it's meee.

never find another like me masterlist | next chapter →

Behind this fortune is the love of your life.

Natalie MacCormack scoffed at the tiny slip of paper from her seat on the floor, surrounded by a semi-circle of piled half-full banker boxes and a half-empty bottle of red sitting by her hip. Turning it over to see the “Lucky Numbers” on the reverse 81, 24, 14, 9 Nat rolled her eyes at herself. The damn numbers weren’t even in the right order.

Crumpling the fortune, Nat tipped the wine glass to her lips, swallowing once and then twice before she cringed against the burn and almost gagged on the after taste. Port had never been her favourite – it had been Adam’s, just like the paint colour he picked out, the restaurants they ate at, the photos he’d insisted they hang in the apartment they shared together. Had shared – Nat mentally corrected herself. Just like the apartment on the Upper East Side they had shared, the one Adam insisted was perfect, even when Nat wasn’t sure she could afford her half of the rent.

Tossing the small ball of paper toward an overflowing trash bag across the small room, Nat glanced down into the small shoe box in her lap, a few strands of loose, light brown hair falling across her vision. Three years of memories shifted around in the tattered box: the strip of photos of her and Adam kissing in a photo booth on Coney Island, a movie stub from their second date, a napkin from a hipster oyster bar in Brooklyn where he’d asked her to be his after two months of back and forth. The whole time Nat had been seeing Adam, she hadn’t been seeing anyone else, she had never been good at being aloof or casually unattached – it wasn’t her style. When she found something, in this case someone, she liked, she was laser focused, intent. Inez always told her that putting all her money on one horse wasn’t the way to win bets, that it made no business sense. If she’d had time for a therapist, Nat was sure they would have told her that she was losing herself in someone else to avoid dealing with her own problems – to which she would have ignored them. Nat hadn’t cared. From the moment she met Adam at the bar of a club while the indie band she liked played on stage, all she wanted was Adam. Smart, handsome, journalist Adam with his boxy framed glasses, who swept her off her feet and made her feel like she wanted to be the kind of woman he liked.

“...you’re supposed to burn it.” The voice piped up from the AirPod stuck in her ear, “we did this thing with the team. Sacrifice to the spirits, I think.”

“Did it work?” Nat hummed, gulping another mouthful of the wine, bracing for the burn this time before she swallowed.

“I mean,” there was a pause for a beat and then two, “yeah. Curse lifted. No more ghosts as far as I can tell. Just took my Booker T action figure.”

“So, you’re telling me, you, Thierry Zoreaux, believed enough in some hoodoo to burn your favourite action figure?” There was a silence on the other end of the line and Nat sighed deeply, the long quiet broken only by the glug-glug of the wine she poured into her half empty glass until the crimson liquid nearly reached the brim. Out of bounds – she had heard the snippiness in her own tone the moment she’d spoken the words.

“Sorry - I know you’re trying to help. It’s just that I don’t think burning a shoe box full of pictures and movie stubs is going to exorcise a three-year relationship and pull the knife out of my back. I don’t even have the My Little Pony I had when I was seven to sacrifice to the flames.”

Zoreaux’s voice returned after a long moment, a moment in which Nat had to dig around for her phone in a pile of newspaper meant to wrap valuables to see if the line had disconnected. “It would be a start.”

Nat stood, the feeling of the three-quarter bottle of wine hitting her knees so she stumbled a bit before she found her footing with the help of the corner of the king size bed. “If that’s the case then I might have to burn the entire apartment to the ground. Probably half of Brooklyn too.”

“Fuck him, Mac.”

“Yeah - fuck him.” Nat repeated the words without feeling them, her voice a faraway echo, a numbness spreading down her arms as her nose began to tingle and her vision blurred behind the tears welling in her eyes.

“Fuck her, too. Friends don’t do that shit.”

Adam cheating hadn’t been the hardest hit. The biggest gut punch, the one that knocked the air right out of her lungs had been who he decided to cheat on her with. In their apartment, in the bed they shared... Inez. Adam had cheated on her with Inez and for how long, she didn’t know. As far back as Nat could remember, Inez had been her sister – not by blood, but by choice. Nat had loved Inez too and the hole that she and Adam carved out and left felt cavernous, bottomless, impossible to heal.

Approaching the bedside table, Nat grabbed a picture frame and scowled at the smiling picture there: the photo of her, Adam, Inez and Inez’s flavour of the month in Mexico last year. All sun and smiles, and yet, in the year the picture had sat on her nightstand she’d somehow missed Inez’s manicured fingers splayed on Adam’s thigh, just above where his orange board shorts ended. Inez and Adam had at least been dancing with the idea of something since last year then, right when Nat felt like her and Adam’s relationship had hit its stride. The relationship had hit its stride, Nat just hadn’t realized at the time that it wasn’t with her. “Was the Nat you knew when we were kids this incredibly blind?”

“There’s a flight that leaves in three hours out of JFK, you’d be in London in 7 hours and in Richmond by morning.” Nat could hear the jingle of keys on Zoreaux’s end, the creak of a door and the stifled yawn he tried to swallow. “Come and visit. Maybe you’ll like it – find something else to care about for half a minute.”

“I’ve got a job here, Zee. My life is here...” the words had been ones she’d thought to herself over a hundred times in the short week since her world had been sent off-balance. After kicking Adam and Inez out with the very few items of clothing they had been wearing and the shock had partly worn off, Nat had reasoned that she couldn’t leave New York. Where would she go? The life she’d worked so hard to construct after university was here, as difficult as it was to be here now. Not only that but leaving now would give Adam the satisfaction that he had won, that she somehow hung her head as she lost the war.

“...Or, hear me out, crazy idea - you could find a job here and stay for a bit. I love it here.”

“Sounds like something Eve would say,” Nat mused, tossing the frame on the bed without caring were it landed and exiting the room, her mind turned to the cold Famous Famiglia pizza in the fridge as she headed toward the kitchen. Pizza was always the great distractor when it came to feeling feelings, Nat had long ago found. “Wait, did Eve call you?”

“No. Your mom didn’t call me.” Zoreaux sighed and Nat could almost hear his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “You know I wouldn’t tell you even if she did though, right?”

“Calling her my mom is a stretch,” Nat scoffed, a humourless laugh hiding just below the surface as she wrenched open the fridge and grabbed the pizza box before nudging the door closed with her foot, “even for you. Did she text you then?”

“She might have.”

“So, she knows then. I didn’t even tell her.” Nat huffed, tossing the pizza box on the counter before flipping the top open and taking a bite of a cold slice before she threw the rest into the microwave. The port needed company – Nat had been drinking and snacking on pretzels for at least 2 hours. “She must have called Adam.”

Eve had always liked Adam, always told Nat how lucky she was to have found someone like Adam, taken Adam’s side the few times they’d met, bought Adam extravagant gifts on birthdays and Christmas, all while telling Nat the greatest gift she could have, was the gift of not needing anything. Eve always made a point to lay on some cringey joke about how they were natural accomplices, or at least their namesakes had been – Adam always laughed. Adam, Adam, Adam. Bitterly, Nat thought, as she watched her pizza rotate in the microwave, Eve probably found a way to excuse the fact that he’d cheated... if he had even mentioned that part. Knowing Adam, he probably had and found a way to twist it so that Nat was at fault for his transgression. Eve would have lapped that up, no doubt. Anything for Adam.

“Listen Mac, I have early morning training, but promise you’ll think about it.”

“I promise.”

Visit Richmond!

Nat stifled a yawn as she sat in her cubicle toward the back of the long writers’ floor in the New York Times Building, hunched over her laptop. Clutching the Joe’s coffee cup in one hand, Nat guided the cursor around the page, absently clicking on a few slider images between deep sips of her coffee. The port was taking its revenge right about now in the form of a splitting headache that pulsed at Nat’s temples. Reaching into her desk, Nat tipped a few Tylenol into her palm and knocked them back with another large gulp of caffeine. Resting her head in her hand, Nat squinted against the brightness of the screen as a timelapse of busy streets and cafes and boats gliding along the Thames played on the screen.

Home of AFC Richmond - Go Greyhounds! The new banner slid across the top of the webpage as the video concluded, a still image of an on-field celebration that included Zoreaux and a few players she didn’t recognize, mouths open in silent exuberance. Promoted!

Plan Your Visit. Nat clicked on that header next, pausing for a moment as her eyes focused on the link at the top of the new page Track Flights & Prices.

The sound of clicking heels and the pop of chewing gum alerted Nat to the woman hovering outside of her workstation.

“Planning some vacay?” Cheryl popped her gum sharply once more as she leaned over the short cubicle wall, her eyes dancing over Nat’s computer screen as she twisted a strawberry blonde strand of hair around her finger. “Looks like a cute spot.”

“Just some research for a story.” Nat offered a small smile before she closed the lid sharply. Richmond would have to wait.

“Cool. Boss wants to see you.”

“Tell him I’ll be right there.” Waiting a minute, Nat watched Cheryl turn and start her trek back across the floor before she quickly opened her laptop and clicked on the flight tracker link.

Perry DeGrossman had been a New York Times legend in his own time. In his 20 years with the company, he’d worked his way up from Junior Writer to Editor. When Nat had been hired four years ago, Perry had interviewed her and taken her under his wing, for some unknown reason. Not that Nat questioned it too much, being a Perry protégé had helped her writing improve ten-fold.

“You’re heading down to Madison Square Garden,” Perry tapped the end of his pen on the yellow notepad sitting on the edge of his desk as Nat slipped into the office at the opposite end of the floor and closed the door quietly behind herself. “You and Adam are covering the Lockwood kid’s trade to the Rangers this morning.”

“Sports is Harvey’s thing, isn’t it?” Nat cleared her throat to keep herself from laughing at Perry’s assignment. Sports coverage was definitely not her thing – she'd barely watched any games of any sport, let alone a New York Rangers game. “I didn’t even know there was a Lockwood trade to cover.”

“So, you don’t want it?” Perry challenged, tossing the pen to his desk with a sigh, “I changed it from Harvey to you at the meeting this morning. Please write me a great article so that I can rub it in Miller’s face. I can’t stand that guy – do you know that he calls all raw vegetables crudités?”

“No, I do - it’s just -” Nat gripped her notepad and relaxed for a moment, mentally shaking herself free of the cloud that hung over her head. “Adam and I, we broke up last week -”

“Listen, MacCormack.” Perry sighed, cutting Nat off, a hand sweeping through his thinning shock of white hair before he stood from the high back chair and steepled his hands on the desk in front of himself. “This isn’t high school – I'm too old for this. We’re all adults. I don’t care about my writers dating s’long as you can do your job. I don’t care what happens outside work.”

“Yes, sir.”

“You can still do that job, can’t you MacCormack?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good. Now, we need to think about beefing up your sports coverage. Lenny is retiring next year, hopefully before he has that street food induced heart attack, and I’d like if you took his place once that happens.”

“The heart attack?”

“Jesus - no. Retirement,” Perry smirked despite himself and waved his hands about, erasing the tense atmosphere. “Listen. You’re a fantastic journalist MacCormack. Don’t let some asshat with a fancy diploma, weird looking glasses and a semi-decent tailor fuck that up for you.”

“You know what? He doesn’t even need the glasses, fake lenses... he thinks they make him look more like Hemmingway or something ridiculous.” Nat waggled her fingers in front of her eyes, barely biting back the smirk as she relaxed slightly. “He wears them in “smart” situations,” Nat exaggerated the air quotes.

“Yes! That’s the spirit.” Perry clapped his hands loudly, “That’s the Nat I know. Now get yourself down to MSG before Adam takes all the credit on this story.”

Nat nodded, “no pressure, though, right?”

“No pressure,” Perry smoothed his tie as he settled back into his chair, “just help me shut Miller up. And MacCormack? As my daughter would say: Team Mac.” Perry pumped his fist in the air as Nat slipped out of the office and closed the door softly behind herself.

Nat stretched the eight-minute walk from the New York Times Building on 41st to Madison Square Garden on Pennsylvania Avenue to a painful 15-minute slog. Catching her harried reflection in nearly every storefront window as she blew huffing breaths out, Nat clutched the strap of her purse until her knuckles were white.

The promise of Lenny’s job and Perry’s praises propelled her forward, her thoughts trained on the job security as she repeated the mantra in her head. Asshat with a fancy diploma. Sweeping a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, Nat hurried across the street against the crossing light, dodging a honking yellow cab as an NYFD truck screamed past her going the opposite direction. Asshat with a fancy diploma – it was all Adam was to her now and the sooner she could wrap the last three years up in a fancy little package with a bow on top, the better.

Legging it up the short flight of stone steps, Nat fluidly stepped through the glass doors and into the entrance of Madison Square Garden before she could talk herself out of it.

Leaning against the front security desk, Nat watched from across the lobby as Adam chatted animatedly with the security staff. Taking a deep breath, Nat allowed it to leave her mouth nosily. Just this one last story with Adam. For Perry.

“Nattie.” Adam straightened as she approached him, his 6’ frame swallowing her small 5’4 stature as he wrapped his arms around her so that she was crushed against his chest. Part of Nat relaxed reflexively, and it was all she could do to stop herself from looping her arms around his waist and resting her head squarely on his chest like she had done for the better part of the last three years. The smell of the cologne she’d bought him last Christmas swirled about her - the feeling of the knife twisting in her chest shook her back to the present.

“I got your press pass,” Adam reached toward Nat as they parted, carefully clipping the badge to the breast pocket of her blouse, the tip of his finger gingerly tracing around the edge of the plasticized credentials. “I’m really glad Perry put you on this with me. Things were just – weird the last time we saw each other, you know?”

“We should get to the press conference.” Nat asserted, clearing her throat past the lump growing there. The quicker this was over, the better.

“All media – 5th floor press room.” The security guard recited monotonously, motioning briefly toward the set of stairs behind the desk.

“Thanks Denton, my man,” Adam reached across the desk to clap the middle-aged man on the shoulder, his stupid perfect teeth gleaming as he smiled in the charming way Nat once found so alluring.

“You know,” Adam began as he corralled Nat toward the stairs, his hand hovering just over the small of her back. “I should really be thanking you.”

“For?” Nat pretended to adjust the press pass pinned to the breast of her shirt, her eyes focused anywhere but on Adam as he started to ascend the stairs ahead of her. At the top of the stairs, he stopped and angled himself toward her.

“Inez.”

The gut punch feeling surfaced all too quickly so that Nat had to swallow hard to breathe past the growing lump in her throat and shove her hands into her pockets to hide that they shook. Eyes on the floor, Nat moved closer to the group of journalists, ones she recognized from The New York Post and The New York Daily News, as they crowded outside the press room. Adam moved with her, always just ahead of her.

“It just feels so...” Adam’s hands milled in the air, his eyes searching the ether for the word he couldn’t quite grasp, “serendipitous. Like it was always meant to be her and I, ya know? She’s really something else. I haven’t felt like this in a long time.”

“I -” Nat opened her mouth and then closed it several times, her breath loud in her own ears so it was all she could hear. Nat once thought that Adam’s blunt honesty was something endearing – he would never lie to her, she’d thought. It had been refreshing, the to-the-point candour after dates where men had lied to impress her. Now, she saw the teeth behind it, now it was just cruelty hidden by the thinnest veil of kindness.

“I’m so glad we can be mature about this.” Adam’s hand rested squarely on Nat’s shoulder as he stepped in front of her, squeezing once and then twice in a familiar way that made her want to vomit. “I really think we can all move past this and see it was just Lady Fate working out the endgame.”

Nat opened her mouth to speak again, her eyes drawing up so that she could just see the dimple she used to love on Adam’s chin.

“The boys are ready for you,” a middle-aged man popped his head out the press room doorway, the gleam of the lighting above reflecting off his smooth, hairless head. As he kicked the door open, the group of reporters moved forward toward the doorway with an excited burst of chatter.

Adam straightened as he buttoned up the jacket he wore before he adjusted the press pass and gave it a little tap. “Oh, one more thing, Nattie. You should really reach out to Inez. She’s just been an absolute wreck since the, well, you know. She just wants to hear that you’re giving us your blessing. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

The double ping of the phone in her pocket shook Nat from the moment just long enough that she instinctively reached for the device.

Flights to London, UK just got cheaper! The small bubble hung at the top of her phone for a moment before disappearing as the device went to sleep again. In the darkened screen, Nat caught her own reflection, the dark bags under her eyes she had tried to cover up with concealer that morning, the flyaway hair from her hurried walk over here. Asshat with a fancy diploma. Perry’s words echoed in her mind for a moment, followed swiftly by Zoreaux’s: You’d be in London in 7 hours and in Richmond by morning.

Fuck it.

Nat pocketed her phone and turned swiftly on her heel, her legs beginning to carry her away before she realized what she was doing.

“Nattie?” Adam called after her in a rasp, “where the hell do you think you’re going? I thought we were being mature about this!”

Ripping off the press pass with a snap of the clip as it came away from her shirt, Nat dropped it in the trash can before she descended the stairs as quick as her feet would carry her.

“C’mon Natalie,” Nat could hear Adam’s footsteps behind her on the stairs, “Perry only gave me this interview if you were here.”

“Goodbye, Adam.” Nat called without looking back.

A/N: feedback is my love language.

#jamie tartt x ofc #jamie tartt fanfiction #ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #jamie tartt #ted lasso #never find another like me series

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