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“Yes, but I’m not you. I don’t know what-”
“Rena, you handled Chase Scott and his attitude, you’ve got this. Knight is a good guy. Cocky, but he has every right to be. He played with Jett before he was traded a few years ago, too. That’s part of the reason I needed you to go for me.”
In the back of my mind, I remembered Jett telling me about a good friend from college that played professional ball. But since he was a football player, I had pushed his name out of my mind. But now I connected the dots.
I decided that going to see Gabe Knight disheveled fromthe plane ride was not in my plans, and instead hit the GPS for the hotel.
“This hotel better be as nice as the one you’re in,” I teased, making my way along the route the robotic voice dictated.
“If you found a hut over the water with a floor where you can watch fish swim in water as blue as Peyton’s eyes in Savannah, I’ll owe you three favors.”
“Ha! Go be a grandpa, Kellan. Leave the egotistical football player to me.”
“Like I said, Knight’s a good guy, Serena. And you’ve handled far worse.”
Once I showered and changed, I sent a text off to Gabe Knight, knowing that Kellan had informed him that he was stuck in paradise, and asked if we could meet to go over why he needed Kellan to fly out.
Even though I knew some of the details, Kellan himself didn’t even know exactly why Knight asked him to fly out personally. I wasn’t holding my breath that the trip would go smoothly.
Football and I didn’t mesh. Never had, never will.
I finished getting ready, and waited.
Two hours later, hungry and pissed, because Gabriel fucking Knight ignored my text.
Not a peep. Or a reaction.
Even my new non-iPhone Android phone could react to texts. So, if Mr. Knight saw my texts, he was ignoring me.
On purpose. Wasting my time. Time I could be spending on clients who weren’t asshole football players with communication issues.
They answered texts and emails because they were adults.
Not imbecile children.
Sighing, I sent another text.
Serena: Mr. Knight, I would appreciate a response. If I don’t hear from you by this evening, I’ll be at the Rockets’ training facility in the morning.
I sipped the Starbucks iced coffee I grabbed on the way, answering emails and going over contracts. Reviewing the files on our newest acquisition, Damon Ward. A retired highly decorated Olympic swimmer who was transitioning to the Rough Water swim circuit. And could surf a mean board.
Hmm. Maybe Hawaii would figure into a Kellan favor. I hear the North Shore had the best bodies on the beach. And heaven knows I could expense a shopping trip at Ala Moana Shopping Center.
Best of both worlds. The beach and city life. Coffee, shopping, and pineapples mixed with lava rock beaches and Mai Tais at sunset.
After an hour of waiting for a reply, I gave up, threw on some clothes, and slipped into a pair of heels before grabbing the car keys and heading out to find dinner.
Fucking egotistical football players. Too bad Gabriel Knight didn’t know who he was dealing with.
