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Carson snorted, which brought me back to earth with a damp thud. "Yes, he probably would. I applaud independence, but when you cost others money and time, then you become a liability." He stopped to arch an eyebrow at me.
I arched one back.
"You were going to find him," Carson said.
"Oh, right." I jerked upright in my chair, then quickly stood. "Sorry. I'll be back shortly." With any luck, I would anyway.
"If I had a lasso, I'd let you borrow it." Carson chuckled at his own joke.
"I'm sure that won't be necessary." I was almost certain it wasn't. The only way to get a guy like Bam to be somewhere he doesn't want to be, might be on a leash. Or with a trail of food.
I should have told him there would be pizza and burgers at the event. There weren't, but he wouldn't have known that until he showed up. Then he would have had to stay, or risk the media making a fuss.
Great, now I was hungry for pizza or burgers.
Bec and Ashley were right when they said dealing with Bam would be like herding cats. He probably left much less fur around the place, but he was just as difficult. Was he even litter trained? Hopefully at his age, he was, but I wouldn't assume anything right now.
I nodded to Carson, grabbed my tablet off the desk and hurried out the door.
Bloody Abraham 'Bam' Clinton better not be too far away, because he had a lot to answer for. I didn't want to burn up my anger while running around looking for him. Oh no, I wanted it red hot and ready to sear his ass where he stood. What was left after that, Carson could deal with. If there was anything left. I didn't intend to pull a single punch.
I might swing a few though.
CHAPTER 9
BAM
"What the hell happened?"
The first clue I got that Grace was pissed was the look on her face. By the time she got close enough to me to speak, her face was pink. I suspected she would have shot bolts of lightning out her eyeballs if she could. Right at my face, probably. It was kinda hot. I wondered if she was feeling that chemistry too.
"Hey," I said, my usual chill self.
"Don't 'hey' me," she said through gritted teeth. Yep, she had it bad. "Where were you last night?"
Real bad.
I shrugged with one shoulder. "Kickin' around. You know. Doin' stuff."
"No, I don't know." She grabbed my arm and pulled me off to one side. "You were supposed to be at the gala last night. Remember the gala? The one I pulled a shit ton of strings to get you into? The important gala that was supposed to save your ass from getting turfed off the team?"
"Oh, that gala," I said lightly. "Yeah, that wasn't my thing. I'm not really a suit guy."
"You won't be a football playing guy for long either if you think you can pick and choose," she snapped. "The organisers waited for you. They asked where you were and if you were okay. They were sure you'd been in an accident or something. One of them was about to call around the hospitals, but I talked them out of it." She huffed an angry breath out her nose.
Now I was starting to feel bad, and I didn't like it much.
"It's nice to know they cared," I said. "As you can see, I'm perfectly fine." Very fine, if I said so myself. "Thanks for worrying." I flashed her a brilliant smile.
"I wasn't worried," she replied coldly. "I was embarrassed. Humiliated. I was the one who told them you'd turn up and have something worthwhile to say. I convinced them you were a good, articulate guy, and they should give you a chance."
"I don't know what articulate means, but I'm good at public speaking," I said. Of course I knew, but I couldn't resist teasing. If I tried hard enough, she might lighten up.
"When I want to be." I cocked my head at her. "Turns out, last night wasn't one of those nights."
"Why not?" She looked ready to chew rocks. "I'm trying to help you and your career here. You have to let me?—"
Annoyed with her being on her soapbox, I interrupted.
