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I’m about to tell her that if my clothes could talk, they’d be telling her exactly what I want them to say right now, which isFuck all the way off, Viv.
But before I can voice that, I look up to see Sloan coming down the stairs.
I rush around the counter and meet her at the landing. “Good morning.”
“Hi.” She smiles at me, sleepy and shy and beautiful. I wish we could just live in that moment. Because in the one that follows, she catches sight of Vivian over my shoulder and that beautiful smile curdles right on her lips.
“Viv, nice to see you so early this morning.”
“I’ll bet.” Vivian sniffles. “You have today off, Sloan. Beck has meetings after practice and you aren’t necessary.”
Sloan’s brow pinches. “Alright.” She tugs her kimono closer around her body and turns around in place. “Then I’m going back to bed.”
I want to reach out to stop her, but she’s gone before I can. She takes her smell and her smile with her. When she’s out of sight, the scowl on my face hardens in place there.
Viv waits until we’re in the car before she springs the rest on me. “After the meetings, we can sit down and discuss the best way forward from here. You’ve considerably cleaned up youract enough that the endorsement deals are rolling in. But we have to make good choices. We have to be strategic. No… extra baggage.”
“Mm.”
The truth is, this shit is more nerve-wracking than I care to admit. In my whole career, I never once took the ice imagining that I was doing it to build a brand. I just wanted a place where I could feel in control of my life. An outlet where I could take all the hatred my dad forced down my throat and redirect it somewhere where no one would be hurt by it. At least, not hurt too badly.
So this kind of thing—brand meetings and influencer metrics and billboards with my damn face on them—it all trips me out. Always has. Always will.
Vivian takes the turn and then pulls up to the front of the arena. She fixes me with a wolfish grin. “Have a good practice. Be ready to go after.”
I don’t give her much more than a grunt as I shoulder my bag and get out of the car.
Practice is a haze. Not my best, not my worst. Utterly forgettable. When it ends, she’s right back where she dropped me off, that same smirk on her face.
She doesn’t say much to me during the meetings. Not when we talk to the Equator Drinks people, or the Miracle Athletics Apparel folks or when we leave the offices of the glove company desperate for my signature.
She doesn’t really address me directly at all until she pulls up in front of my house. “Beck…” she says as she kills the engine.“You’re doing good. It’s good to see you making something of yourself. You’re almost there.Almost.”
Her hand floats across the center console like she wants to touch me. I stare at it, wondering if I’m imagining that or if it’s really happening.
Then she tucks it back in her lap and I decide it was a figment of my imagination. “Yeah. Thanks.” I get my stuff and hop out.
Inside, Sloan is curled up on the sofa with a bowl of ice cream, her favorite blanket, and something Brad Pitt flavored on the TV. “Hey. Karla is still here if you’re hungry.”
I nod and walk into the kitchen, Vivian’s floating hand still on my mind. I don’t know why, but I don’t want to have to explain to Sloan until I have it all straight in my mind. Until I understand what the hell Vivian is playing at.
Karla smiles when she walks out of the pantry. “Mr. Daniels! Something I can make for you?”
I ignore the dull throb behind my left eye and shake my head. “Not really hungry. Vivian’s been shopping me around like a prized hog all afternoon.”
To my surprise, Karla’s normally stoic face crumples up into a frown. “You should cut that one loose. She’s not good people.” She waves a wooden spoon in the direction of the front door. “She wants you back. Mark my words.”
Karla saw me through the entire Viv debacle. She’s been a trusted employee for years. And I trust her radar for bad intentions.
“I’ll keep it in mind.”
Then I go for a shower. I want to wash all the bad feelings of this weird day down the drain.
Afterward, clean but not cleansed, I head back down to the living room. Sloan slides her feet out of the way so I can sit, but I pull them right back into my lap and start rubbing her arches. “What’s on the menu tonight?” I ask her.
“Well, there’s a J-Lo pregnancy marathon on. Or theFriday the 13thmovies.”
“You pick.”
