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When I retired, some friends and contacts just coincidentally fell out of touch. Not Hakeem—he was delighted that I’d have more time to hang out.
I spot him at a café table near the window. He’s a handsome bastard, with a neatly trimmed beard and a quick smile that worked on a lot of ladies before he met his fiancée. He used that well-honed charm to lock her down in less than a year.
Maybe that’s why I’m thinking more about settling down lately. My buddies are dropping like flies.
Annoyingly happy flies.
“Hey, big man,” Hakeem says, standing to hug me. “How’s it going?”
“It’s okay.” I clap him on the back. “The Hamptons event turned out all right, so we’re rolling along.”
Hakeem gives me an update on our finances, in his casual way. His confidence always makes it seem like I have nothing to worry about—and maybe I don’t. But, for years, it felt like baseball was the only thing I’m good at. What if I completely blow the spa launch, which I’ve been planning for years?
“And I’ve got another quick meeting with Duncan later this week if you want in,” Hakeem says, finishing up.
DoI want in? Sinclair Duncan is an oddball—and the main investor in my whole business. He has a thick Scottish brogue, nearly white hair, and bushy dark eyebrows. The effect is that he looks like an owl who’s up to something. And he usuallyisup to something. Duncan’s a sharp man, but he loves whisky and risks.
“That guy…” I shake my head. “I never know what’s coming with him.”
Hakeem nods. “Absolutely. Eccentric millionaire to the max. But his money’s good. And that’s all we need from him.”
“Then I’ll let you do the meeting,” I decide. I have outside investors, but launching my own company is still a massive swing for me. Thanks to Hakeem, I could live off investments made in my baseball days and never work another day. But that’s not me—I need purpose, and I have a vision. That means I really, really need Vital to work.
Hakeem notices the change in my energy. Not many people realize how in-my-head I can get, but he’s known me a long time. “Uh oh, I know that face. You freaking out?”
“I’ve got a lot on the line here,” I admit, lacing my fingers together. “It’s hard not to feel the nerves.”
“That’s normal,” Hakeem says simply, waving a hand like he can swat my worry away. “But you’re a winner, buddy. Remember when you got passed over by the Braves? That could have been it for your baseball career.”
“I know, but—”
“But then you came out of training in absolute beast mode and ended that year as MVP win. Epic stuff.”
“True,” I agree. “But this is a totally different industry.”
“So?” Hakeem challenges. “The skills are transferrable.”
“Oh yeah?” I joke, doubtful. “My batting average?”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Knowing when to swing and when to let an opportunity pass. So…yeah, kind of.”
Huh. I guess he has a point. But Hakeem is still going, counting on his fingers. “Using all the people skills you honed as a public figure. Earning a reputation as a closer. Listening to your gut. Staying cool under pressure. Want me to go on?”
“I get it,” I say, laughing. “I can’t say I’m staying cool under pressure, though.”
“No?” Hakeem crosses his arms, considering that. “Okay. What would you need to feel a little more chill? More money?”
“Nah. We’re solid with Duncan on-board.”
“What then?” he challenges, and a face pops into my head.
Light brown hair. Blue eyes. And a smile that lights up the whole room.
“Honestly? I need Jenn Walker on my team.
There’s this marketing manager,” I explain, “She nailed down exactly what the business needs. And we get along great,” I add, thinking about our banter, undercover at the spa. I thought I’d never keep a straight face, with her teasing me.
“Sounds great,” Hakeem says.
