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Yet here I am. Full circle.
I didn't think this through. I never told Mitch my connection to this place when I agreed to meet him here. I don't know what to expect. Like I did as a child, I wonder what it will be like and if I'll fit in.
I take a steadying breath and open the door. The interior looks fresh and new yet familiar at the same time. I'm pleasantly surprised by the vibrant energy that greets me. It’s alive with children shouting and laughing amidst the buzz of activity.
I limp past the administrative offices and step into the well-lit main room. It’s wide open with bright fluorescent lights and what smells like newly painted walls. The windows are lifted, letting in the fresh air. Better equipment than I remember using is spread around the room. It seems larger, brighter, and even more inviting than it had in my childhood.
Scanning the room, I search for my agent, Mitch, and spot him talking to a young woman in the far corner. Her back is to me, so all I can see is her long blonde hair. But I can hear her laugh as they talk, and it's a light, airy sound. I wait for him to catch sight of me. When that doesn't work, I slowly work my way over to them, fingers gripping the crutch bars, keeping my head down to avoid collisions with kids chasing one another in a game of tag.
“Drew!” Mitch finally calls. “You made it. This is Veronica, she's the photographer we hired to document your time with the kids over the next couple of weeks.”
I raise my head and look at Veronica, and my breath snags in my throat. Good thing these damn crutches are holding me up.
Plenty of the women I've dated have had something fixed, filled, or lifted. They look plastic. Not her. She's beautiful. Framing her delicate facial features perfectly, Veronica's hair has a natural shine to it with the light streaming in through the windows highlighting the different shades. Her eyes are a mix of brown and green, with long lashes that flutter when she blinks. Her skin is flawless. She has high cheekbones, a straight nose, and full, pink lips slightly parted in a soft smile. And curves. She has curves in all the right places. She also feels familiar, but I don't think I've met her. I'd remember her.
“It's nice to meet you. Call me Roni,” she says. “I'm sorry about your injury. I hope you're not out too long.”
I return the smile she’s giving me, though I am embarrassed that she knows what's happened. I hope she didn’t witness it firsthand.
“Four weeks according to the team doctor. A lot less if I have anything to say about it.”
“Now, Drew,” Mitch gives me a stern look, “trust me, you need to listen to the doc. I can tell you from experience that if you rush it, you'll risk reinjuring yourself. And then you're out longer, or forever.”
Forever. The very thought causes sweat to break out on my forehead and my eye to twitch. I refuse to lose the one thing I'm good at. I may be nearing the end of my career, but I'm not ready to throw in the towel quite yet.
“I'm here to take pictures of the community outreach program and your contribution. It's a great cause.” Roni wraps her long fingers around the length of her lens, and I'm suddenly hit with an image of her fingers wrapped around my cock, her warm hand gently squeezing it, caressing it like she is the camera’s shaft.
Thank God there's a breeze flowing through the room because it's getting hot in here.
Mitch steps in and knocks me out of my stupor. “Drew is here to help with the program. And since he’s off the field for a few weeks, we thought it would be a good time to show him giving back to the community. Obviously, he won't be running races or anything too strenuous, but I think we can come up with a few things he can do—maybe painting with the kids or talking football. Once he's off the crutches, he can toss the ball with them out back.”
Swallowing roughly, I can't avoid glancing to the back of the room and the door to the enclosed space outside. I would sometimes climb the fence and hide out in the trees at the back of the property waiting until they noticed my absence, or it was time to catch the bus home.
“We want lots of pictures taken,” Mitch continues. “They'll look great on his and the team's websites.”
“Well, I'm here to follow you around, Drew, and capture all the great shots on film. Then we'll go through them with your agent and the public relations team to see which ones they like best and want to purchase.”
I swing my gaze to her. “You don't work for a paper or a magazine?”
She shakes her head, her hair whipping lightly around her face. “I freelance.”
“So, you sell your pictures to the highest bidder?” Damn it. I can't go down that path again.
Her cheeks redden. “It's not like that. I've already signed a contract with the team. Anything they purchase is theirs exclusively.”
“And what about the ones they don't buy?”
“Then they're mine.”
“I want them all.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, but I want no unapproved photos of me out there to be purchased and used however the buyer wants. “I'll pay you whatever you want. But I want a contract. I get all unused photos, negatives included. You have no rights to them.”
I turn to Mitch, who's looking at me like that hit damaged more than my hip and leg. “Mitch, I want you to get the papers drawn up immediately. I'm not having any photos taken without a signed contract in place.”
“But Drew that means today's a bust.”
I shrug. “Then it's a bust. This is non-negotiable.”
Roni looks perplexed and more than a little pissed. I didn't intend to upset her, but I have my reasons.
