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When I come down for breakfast in the morning, I find someone unexpected at the counter.
Viv.
I blanche. Viv is way too comfortable in my house. She’s helped herself to the blueberry muffin I picked up for Sloan because she’s been craving all things blueberry. That's annoying, but it’d be way worse if she goes upstairs and finds Sloan in my bed.
“What are you doing here?” I snap.
If she’s bothered by my tone, she shows no sign of it. She folds down her newspaper and beams up at me. “I came to bring you to practice.”
“I have Sloan for that.”
“I’m giving her the day off. I have set up some meetings for endorsement deals for today as well, and it’s best if I accompany you.”
She goes back to reading the paper as if that’s the final word on the subject.
“Endorsement deals?”
“After the way you shut down Weston Scott in Los Angeles on last week’s road trip, you’re the player of the month. It’s a good time to start shopping your brand.”
I suppress an eyeroll. I hate when she says things likeshopping your brand.It makes me feel like a piece of meat. It’s what Sloan would call a “rich-boy problem.”
“There’s a sports drink,” she continues, “and some athletic wear. Both want meetings today. Tomorrow, Tiger Gloves wants to talk to you about wearing their product during games.”
“I like the gloves I already have.”
She does that thing again where she peers over the top of her paper with a weary, condescending professor kind of vibe. “Beckett, I don’t have to tell you how lucrative these deals can be. You are at the top of your game right now. The world is watching. You have to make hay while the iron is hot.”
Her metaphors are all over the place, but I get what she’s saying—I just hate doing it.
And with a baby on the way, she’s right. Now is the time to make money. I have to think about more than just my own likes and dislikes going forward. People are relying on me. People I love.
I won’t let them down.
“Fine. Whatever.”
“You know, you could try something like, ‘Thanks ever so much for setting all this up for me,’ or ‘Gee, Viv, I’m sorry I’m suchan ungrateful turd. I know how much time this takes you and I appreciate it.’ Or perhaps just a simple ‘Way to go, Viv’ would suffice. You don’t have to make every damned thing into a battle.”
“Thanks for the privilege of being in your company,” I drawl. “How can I ever repay the favor?”
“Hmph. That’s a start.” She goes back to her newspaper and Sloan’s muffin.
Scowling, I start making coffee. Each of us is radiating dislike toward the other, but at least I don’t have to talk while I do that.
She breaks the silence first. “When shall we be expecting your groupie to grace us with her presence?” She looks over her shoulder at the stairs. “Or is she the type to sleep in until the day’s halfway over?”
I growl and tighten my fist on my coffee mug until the damn thing almost shatters. I wish Sloan was here to listen to Viv demean her. Pregnant or not, I’m pretty sure she’d have Viv eating her fist instead of that blueberry muffin.
“She’s not a groupie. Most days, she hates the air I breathe.”
“She sure lives awfully close for someone who doesn’t like sharing your airspace.”
“Not her fault and you know it.”
“Debatable.” She nods at my sweatsuit get-up. “We’ll stop and get you an actual suit to put on for the meetings.”
“I don’t need a new suit. I have plenty upstairs.”
“You have suits that say,I’m desperate for attention. I want your suit to say,I’m exactly what you’re looking for to represent yourproduct. I want classy suits. Business suits. Not like you stepped out of a magazine for the latest in neon and chrome.”
