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“Send a pair of tickets to Trey Hale and a pair to his agent Buck Remsen. Also, I want two sent to Olivia Hull.” I glance out the window of my apartment at the rain pelting Manhattan. “I’ve sent you an email with all of their contact information. Invite each to the reception after the performance.”
I end the call with Vito, my manager, before he can get in another word.
He’s already talking about my next venture. According to him, I should accept an offer to guest conduct in Australia early next year.
I’m not feeling the pull that I usually do when a new opportunity crosses my path.
My connection to Alvin is growing day-by-day. We spent hours talking about the World Series and I was his first call when it was over.
I could hear Phoebe in the background cheering, but Alvin’s voice broke when he told me he was proud of Trey and his teammates for winning the series. The kid’s birthday gift sparked a new connection for us.
I’m still just Alex to him, but I don’t care. I’m finding a spot in his life that I can fill and that’s good enough for me.
“I don’t get to see you on opening night?” Jack walks into the main living space with two beers in his hands. He shoves one at me. “I’m not a hometown hero like Trey Hale, and my name isn’t as cool as Buck Remsen, but I thought I’d score a set of tickets.”
“Go to hell,” I joke. “I had two sent to your office yesterday.”
“That’s what was in that envelope?” He drops onto my leather couch. “I should pay more attention when I get a delivery from you.”
“Who are you bringing?” I take a pull from the beer.
Jack brought six bottles over. It’s good. I don’t drink often, but when Jack and I get together, a bottle of imported is usually in each of our hands.
“I haven’t decided yet,” he mutters. “I’ll surprise you.”
I move to sit on the chair opposite him. “You’re coming solo, aren’t you?”
“And waste a ticket?” He shakes his head. “No way in hell. I’m still considering my options.”
“Bring your assistant.”
“Everly?” He huffs out a laugh. “She doesn’t strike me as the symphony type, Alex.”
She’s his type, even if he can’t see it.
“Forget about Everly. Let’s talk about Olivia Hull.” He places the beer on the wooden coffee table in front of him. “Who is she?”
I follow suit and put mine down too. “Trey’s cousin.”
“Ah.” He leans back on the couch. “So she’s the one who came to your rescue when your one-night stand fucked off with the autographed jersey?”
“That’s her.” I nod. “She went to Trey, his agent got involved and the rest is history.”
“So the tickets are just your way of saying thank you to her?”
I shrug. “I gave her flowers. The tickets are another way to thank her.”
He sets one ankle on the opposite knee. His gray suit is expensive, his shoes more so. It looks like handling my money is paying off for him. Although, I’m only one of the dozens of clients he has.
“You’re interested in this woman, aren’t you?” He reaches forward to grab his beer.
“She’s interesting,” I counter. “She’s not impressed by who I am.”
“You make it sound like that’s rare.” He laughs. “Do women fall at your feet when they realize you’re the Alexander Donato?”
They do. More often than he’d realize.
“Olivia is a good person.” The words leave my mouth before I think them through. “She did me a huge favor. I don’t think a lot of women in this city would be willing to go to that much trouble to help a stranger.”
