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“Excuse me, Marty,” I say, attempting to step around him.
“Meeting not go well?” he asks, stepping in front of me so I can’t pass. “I saw Pender storm out of here like you bit him. I thought maybe he wasn’t too keen on the idea of having a…newbie as an agent.”
Newbieis not what he was going to say.
“Working on your detective skills, Marty? Impressive. I’ll keep you in mind for my next murder mystery dinner party.” In actuality, I know that Marty pays attention to every move I make at all times. Not because he’s attracted to me or anything…but because he genuinely hates that I’m here and wants to see me gone.
There’s not a single agency meeting where he doesn’t try toundermine one of my suggested marketing strategies or make a crack about something I’ve said, trying to lure me into a public argument that will make me look hotheaded and irrational. But I don’t take the bait because my stats always speak for themselves. My ideas are good—and he’s threatened by them. By me.
So every day that I step into this office, I remind myself not to waste my mental energy on a man who has his head so far up his own butt he can’t even see that his tactics are outdated. That his marketing ideas are unoriginal. And that if he doesn’t learn to adapt his thinking to a more progressive approach, I’m going to run him out of business. He thinks he hates me because I’m a woman in a world that supposedly belongs to men, but why he should really hate me is because I’m smarter than him and will smile while I steal his clients.
“Well, anyway,” he says with an annoying fake chuckle. “I only came out here to say that if things aren’t going well with Pender, I’ll be happy to take him on for you. Save you the embarrassment of not knowing what you’re talking about in front of him.”
Am I seething inside at the way he condescends to me? Yes. Have I learned by now that it’s more fun to prove someone wrong by succeeding than by blowing smoke in a hallway? Also yes. But will I absolutely mess with him because it’s the only joy I find in this situation? Again, a resounding yes.
I put my hand over my heart. “Thanks for that, Marty. But I think I’m all good since he already agreed to sign with me, and we were only outside to look at his cool electric SUV. Besides, how difficult can it really be to manage one basketball player?” I laugh purposely sweet. “Enjoy the Skittles I left in the break room before everyone eats them! They’re the tropical flavor this week just to mix thingsup.”
As I walk past Marty I hear him begin to correct me that Derek is afootballplayer and not abasketballplayer, but then he shuts hismouth, probably in hopes that I’ll embarrass myself in front of Derek at some point. Pitiful that he would so easily believe that I don’t even know the sport of the athlete I’m looking to represent. But that’s Marty for you. It also makes me grateful I never told anyone that Derek and I used to date. Not that it matters much in the great scheme of things, but I know that Marty will find a way to spin it so that it seems like it does. Like I’m getting special treatment or something. If anything, our history has done nothing but hinder my chances at being Derek’s agent. I’m glad I listened to my gut, even if it means keeping a secret from Nicole.
Maybe one day it won’t feel like such a struggle to simply exist as a woman in my field, but today is not that day. So I’ll continue to fight with all I’ve got to prove I belong here. Even when that means representing my ex-boyfriend.
—
“I got our drinks,” I say, carrying two iced coffees over to the little table in the corner of the café where Derek is waiting for me. He wasn’t too happy when I told him I’d order and pay for the drinks, but since he clearly would like to interact with me as little as possible, he didn’t fight me on it. But now he looks for all the world like a grumpy giant sitting among Barbie furniture. He’s wearing a maroon-colored hoodie that manages to make him look even more broad somehow (but sadly hides his tattoos other than the ones on his hands), black athletic shorts, and tall white socks with limited-edition Nikes from his partnership line with them. And a hat that casts an ominous shadow over his face. The man looks hot as hell even though I’d rather eat a rock than admit it.
He fidgets in his seat when he sees me, and his knee bumps the tiny table, threatening to knock it on its side. His hand splays flat against the top—steadying it.Goodness, he’s a big guy.
“First task as your agent…complete,” I say dramatically, while setting down the drinks.
I could almost swear his eyes flicker with amusement from under the bill of his hat. “What was that voice supposed to be?”
I take my seat across from him. “A video-game announcer.”
He looks confused.
“You know? Like when you unlock the next level and the godlike voice booms over the speaker?”
He raises an eyebrow. “It’s clear you don’t play videogames.”
“True. But why would I need to when I could organize my sock drawer by color, size, and patterns instead?”
Zero expression from Derek. He’s stone cold over there. Somehow his sharp cheekbones and jawline look even sharper today.
I think he’d rather be having dental surgery right now than sitting across from me. And honestly, I’m struggling to keep the smile on my face too. It’s painfully tense. And I think it will stay this way until we clear the air between us. Until I tell him the full truth of our breakup. That it had very little to do with him and everything to do with me.
“You know…” I take a sip of my vanilla cold brew and let the sugar throw a party in my veins. “I was reviewing your file earlier today and I noticed you haven’t done a single interview or endorsement deal since your injury last season. I have a few friends in—”
He holds up his hand like he’s a king and I’ve just been summoned to silence. “I don’t want to discuss endorsement deals or my injury or anything concerning my career today. We’re writing rules for conduct and then signing. That’s it.”
What a dingle-berry.I know we have a beef between us, but…this isn’t at all the man I used to know. Not only is this one a mountain and covered in tattoos and has a scowl that marks his face like abloodstain on a white shirt, but he’s so snippy. The Derek I used to know was a world-class flirt. He could have charmed you naked in ten seconds with one strategic smile. I would have thought that Famous Football Player Derek would be the guy I used to know but on steroids. (Not literal steroids, though, because that shit is illegal.) The guy sitting in front of me more resembles a muscular cactus.
I swallow my retorts because I need to find peace between us if we’re going to make this work. I’ll let him throw his hissy fit and then we’ll get down to business.
“Okay, let’s write the rules, boss man.”
“Don’t call meboss man,” he grumbles before finally taking a drink of his coffee.
“No? Not flashy enough. How about Your Supreme Footballness?” I eye him with lifted brows and he just glowers. “We’ll keep workshopping it.”
