by Marni Mann
For now, that was enough.
When the commercial break ended, the screen now showing the field again, the teams were getting in their positions for the kickoff. San Diego was on the receiving end and ran it to the thirty-yard line. Just as our defense was getting the play called, I felt my phone vibrate.
I yanked it out of my pocket and quickly checked the screen, seeing that it was the quarterback from Miami.
“Fuck,” I hissed. “I have to take this call.”
“Want me to pause the game?” Max asked.
I ground my teeth together. “No. Hopefully, this won’t take too long.”
I got up from the couch and went into my bedroom, connecting the call before it went to voice mail. “Jack Hunt here.”
“I just heard Rolex is shopping for a new face. I want that face to be mine. If you can get me that contract by tonight’s party, then you’ll be my agent.”
I checked my watch and did the math in my head. It was almost four in the morning in Geneva where Rolex’s headquarters was located.
“I need twenty-four hours,” I told him.
“You have three. I’ll see you at the party.”
He hung up, and I stared at the home screen, thinking of whom I could call. Brett and Max had the same connections as me, and Scarlett was our CFO, so I was positive none of them would be able to help.
I needed someone with European contacts.
Someone who would pick up the goddamn phone.
And then it came to me.
I scrolled through my numbers until I found the one for Phillip.
He answered after the second ring. “Do you have any idea what time it is?” he said in a groggy British accent.
Geneva was one hour ahead of London, so I knew exactly what time it was there.
“Sorry, man. I know it’s early, but I need your help.”
“At this hour?”
“I have a potential client who wants the Rolex contract. Do you know anyone there?”
Phillip was the highest-earning sports agent in the UK. He had his own agency and represented athletes in Europe, Asia, and South Africa. When he needed a contact in the States, he called me.
It was time for him to return the favor.
“Aren’t you just a lucky motherfucker, mate? I happen to know their head of marketing. We go on holiday together.”
“I knew I was reaching out to the right guy. Can you set up a three-way call?”
“Right now?”
“Yes, Phillip, right now.”
“Give me a second.” I heard what sounded like him walking across a hard surface and then a slow flow of running water. When it shut off, he said, “I’m going to put you on hold while I try him.”
I paced my bedroom and went as far as the bathroom, circling the side of the tub and passing the large walk-in shower, steam room, and both sets of sinks. By the time I made it to the entrance of my closet, I heard Phillip come back on the line.
“Jack?” Phillip said.
“I’m here.”
“I have Elias Schmid on the phone. Elias is the head of marketing for Rolex and a dear friend of mine.” He paused for a second. “Elias, like I briefly mentioned, Jack Hunt is the US version of me.”
“Mr. Hunt,” Elias said.
“Call me Jack, please,” I said, and I stopped in the middle of my room. “I apologize for my timing. I know how early it is in Geneva, but I wouldn’t have called if it wasn’t a pressing matter. News has reached the States that you’re looking to rebrand Rolex, and you think a new face will help you do that.”
“You’ve heard correctly, Jack.”
I wanted to know why a player had heard this bit of information before me. My team should have been all over this. If their connections hadn’t alerted them, then they needed stronger fucking roots. And that was what I’d tell them during our meeting tomorrow.
“I have a potential client who’s about to ink a deal with Breitling. In fact, the contract is in his hands as I speak, and he’ll be signing with the watch company within the next hour. Before his signature is permanently on that contract, I wanted to see if you were interested in stealing him from Breitling.”
“Who’s the client?”
“Vince Hedman.”
I heard him take in a deep breath. “As in the quarterback for the Miami Dolphins?”
“The same one.”
“I’m glad you reached out.” He paused. “Would Mr. Hedman be interested in a full international advertising campaign? Attending several industry events in the States and abroad? Being seen with only a Rolex during the entire commitment of his contract?”
Now that I was getting somewhere, I sat on the bench at the foot of my bed. “Vince is extremely particular about what jewelry he wears. Most of his pieces are custom-made. But, if you’d like him to wear your brand exclusively, I’m sure we could discuss that during contract negotiations.”
“I need to speak to my team.”
“Of course,” I said.
“But, on behalf of Rolex, I would like to say that we’re extremely interested in Mr. Hedman, and I would like him to hold off on signing with Breitling.”
“Unfortunately, Elias, I can put things on hold for only so long. Vince’s signature is due by midnight, Eastern Standard Time.”
“Jack, please give me your number. I’ll reach out to my team, and I’ll phone you right back.”
While I gave him what he’d asked for, I walked over to the doorway of my bedroom to try to hear the TV. The guys had turned it down, so I couldn’t make out anything the commentators were saying.
“I’ll be in touch,” Elias said and hung up.
I stayed on the line and said to Phillip, “Are you still there?”
“You owe me, motherfucker.”
“We’ll call it even for the Ford and Nike contracts I helped you land.”
“And the Gatorade contact you’re going to give me once I get to the office.”
I laughed. “We’ll see about that. Thanks for your help, Phillip.”
I disconnected the call, and as I walked out of my room, I kept my phone in my hand in case Elias called back.
“What’s the score?” I asked, rounding the corner to the main living space.
The TV was showing a soda commercial.
“The game is over,” Brett said.
“What was the fucking score?” I repeated.
The three of them looked at me, smiles slowly spreading across their faces.
“Shawn is going to the next round,” Max said.
“Fuuuck yeah,” I said as I joined them on the couch. “Shawn must be so goddamn happy right now.”
In an hour, once things settled down in the locker room, I’d call him to congratulate him. First, he needed some time to celebrate with his team. Besides, I was positive all he’d want to talk about was his eligibility for the next game and to make sure he’d get the doctor’s clearance.
“Everything all right with the call you got?” Brett asked.
I nodded. “It was Vince. He wants a deal with Rolex before he signs with me.”
“And?” Scarlett said.
“I’m pretty sure I just got him one.”
“Sounds like it was a good fucking day,” Max announced, going over to the bar to grab everyone a beer.
“It’s going to be even better when we go to the party and tell Vince the news.” I took the beer Max handed to me and held it up in the air, waiting for the other three to join me. “Tonight, we’re going to fucking celebrate.”
“Cheers to that,” they all said.
2
Samantha
“We won, Sam,” my brother, Shawn, said as I held the phone to my ear, my other hand gripping an extra-large coffee. “We fucking destroyed them.”
I’d been listening to the game since I landed at LAX. The Titans had advanced and would be up against the Dolphins in the Super Bowl.
Every time one of the announcers had called my brother’s name, the guilt o
f not being there grew even more. And hearing the moment they’d won was like a knife stabbing the back of my throat.
I should have been there.
But I was in the back seat of this giant SUV instead, being driven to a client’s house—a client who’d had two dates available to meet with me, and I chose this one, knowing it was my brother’s game.
“I told you, you were going to destroy them,” I said. “And, now, you’re going to the Super Bowl.”
I’d only been waiting eight seasons to say that to him.
“Miami is a hell of a team.”
“So is Tennessee.” I sipped the coffee, hoping the caffeine would kick in soon. “Your team is healthy. More importantly, your hamstring is completely healed. You’re going to go out on that field, play the sport you love, and prove once again why you’re one of the best tight ends in the world.”
“You’re going to be there, right?”
I’d known that question was coming.
I’d known the second my phone rang.
I closed my eyes, pushing the back of my head into the seat, and exhaled. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss it.” I cringed as the words left my mouth.
I’d said the same exact thing during preseason when he asked if I would be at his first game, which I didn’t end up attending. Then, I’d missed all of his home games but two and each round of the playoffs.
At least my parents and my three sisters had gone to all of his games.
It was only me who hadn’t made it.
Only me who had taken a different path than the rest of my family.
The driver weaved down the narrow street and pulled up to a gate, stopping next to a call box. He pushed the button and said, “I have Samantha Laine for Miss Ryne.”
A buzz came through the speaker, and the gate began to open.
“Shawn, I have to run. I just got to my client’s house. But, listen, I couldn’t be happier for you, and I couldn’t be prouder. I hope you celebrate so hard tonight because you’ve certainly earned it.”
“I’ll see you in a few weeks.”
I quickly shut my eyes again at the thought of that.
I took a deep breath.
I felt a gnawing pain in the pit of my stomach.
“You will. Now, go party.”
I listened to him say good-bye, and then I slid the phone into my purse and put my hand through the loop of my computer bag, keeping the coffee close to my mouth.
Once the driver opened my door, I climbed out and walked up the front steps of the house. Before I had a chance to knock, the door opened.
“Samantha, I’m so happy you’re here,” James Ryne said, looking like she had just stepped off a movie set.
I’d been working with the Oscar winner for a while now, and I still had a hard time believing that I had a client as high profile as her.
Seeing how put together she was made me wish I’d touched up my makeup on the flight. I just didn’t have the energy. Before driving myself to Miami International Airport, I’d overseen two installations and a buildout. It was a miracle I’d even gotten on the plane.
“Me, too,” I said. “I’m excited to see your new house.”
As I stepped inside the entrance, she gave me a hug. I squeezed her back, grateful that she liked my work enough to fly me all the way out here.
Once she released me, I glanced up at the twenty-foot ceiling, my mind immediately spinning with ideas for the foyer.
“I want this place to have a completely different feel than our home in Miami,” she said. “Miami will be our permanent residence, so this will be more like our getaway and where I’ll stay when I’m in town.”
I took several steps forward and did a full turn, taking in the whole space. The walls were only primed, and the floors were cement. There wasn’t even any material on the grand staircase.
“It’s a blank canvas,” I said, finally looking at her again.
It was more like a shell of drywall.
“I know I didn’t mention that when we talked on the phone, but I figured you’d prefer it that way to having to tear everything down.”
“You’re saying you want me to do the buildout as well?” I held my breath while I waited for her answer.
“Samantha, I want you to do it all—the construction, the design, the decorating. This is your baby.”
Inside, I was screaming.
But, outside, I was really trying to play it cool.
The projects I’d completed for James weren’t anything like this. I designed the most luxurious closet for her Miami penthouse. And, slowly, we added some feminine touches to the extremely masculine condo. That was because she had moved in with her fiancé, and we were trying to convert his bachelor pad into a space that suited the both of them.
But this was starting from the ground up.
This was where I could really show her my ideas.
This was a dream.
Out of all the interior designers in LA, she’d chosen me, who lived all the way in Miami.
I wouldn’t let her down.
“Will you show me around?” I asked. “I want to get a feel for each room and take some pictures, so I can start working when I get back to Florida.”
“Absolutely. Follow me.”
I reached inside my computer bag and took out my camera, turning it on. I held it against my face, shooting several shots of the entrance. Once I had enough, I followed her to the first room on the right. I gasped when I saw it, its size and shape, the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the backyard.
“Oh, James.”
I felt her eyes on me. “Isn’t it so perfect?”
I nodded. “This is going to make the most stunning kitchen.”
I took photographs from each angle, knowing I’d also need the blueprints because there were far too many measurements for me to take in one night.
“Tell me what you’re feeling,” she said. “Have any colors come to you yet? Textures? I know it’s early, and you haven’t seen much of the house, but I’m dying to know.”
I walked to the middle of the room, envisioning the placement of the cabinets, a massive island, and an eat-in kitchen along the side.
“White with a touch of gray. Not a charcoal. I see a soft, sweet smoke.” I moved to the wall on the right, running my fingers across the primer. “A carrara marble set in a basket weave for your backsplash. Each piece will be hand-cut, the lines going linear.” I glanced up several inches. “White cabinets, shaker-style, with simple, clean hardware and ten-inch crown molding.” I backed up, so I could take in the whole wall. “I want the countertops to be white stone with the same hint of gray.”
“Classy and elegant.”
Our eyes connected again.
“A place where you can come to relax.”
She smiled.
“I’ll use pops of color, but I want to pull those hues from out there.” I pointed at the windows and moved toward them, overlooking the lit-up backyard. “Once we have the pool designed and installed and the landscaping done, I’ll tie it all together. I want your outdoor and indoor living spaces to flow.”
“I can’t wait for Brett to hear this.” Her smile grew even larger. “He’s going to love everything you’ve said.”
“A project like this has to be done in stages,” I told her. “First, we’ll plan and execute the interior and exterior buildout. Once it’s finalized, we’ll focus on the decorating. Construction this extensive will probably take four to six months. It’s a process.”
She leaned her side against the wall. “That’s no problem. I have a rental since I’ve been doing so much filming here. And there’s no rush. Besides, Brett and I are so busy; it’s going to be hard to find time when we’re both available to meet, and I want him involved with this.”
I’d never met her fiancé. Anytime I had been at their home in Miami, he wasn’t ever there. But I knew all about Brett and his partners since my brother was signed with their company. James and I never discussed that, a
nd she would never make my connection with the famous Shawn Cole because, professionally, I went by my mother’s maiden name.
I’d decided to do that the minute I graduated college.
I wanted my success to be my own. I wanted to earn it from hard work and dedication and skill. I never wanted Shawn to open any doors for me, and I never wanted them to open because of who he was.
Shawn knew how I felt, and he respected that.
“After I take a look at the blueprints, I’ll put some designs together. We’ll work around both of your schedules. I can make myself available day or night.”
“You’re wonderful, Samantha, and I’m certain you’re the right person for this job.”
I returned the smile, still trying to keep it cool. “I can’t wait to start working on this project.”
She looped her arm through mine. “Come on, there are twenty-two other rooms I need to show you along with the most incredible wine cellar you’ve ever seen.”
3
Jack
As Shawn sat on a chair in the locker room, dressed in everything but his jersey and helmet, I knelt in front of him and said, “Are you ready to go out there and fucking demolish the Dolphins?”
He ground his hands together, straightening his fingers and then tightening them into a fist. “Yes.”
“Do you feel healthy?”
He stared straight ahead, never making eye contact, with his lips spread apart and his teeth bared. “Yes.”
“Do you feel prepared?”
“Yes.”
“Then, are you going to go out there and win yourself a goddamn Super Bowl?”
His fist punched the palm of his other hand. “Fuck yes.”
That was the answer I wanted.
I patted him on the shoulder. “Get your jersey and your helmet on. Then, get your ass on that field, and go bring home a championship.”
He finally glanced at me, the look in his eyes showing how ready he was. “You’ve got it.”
I pounded his chest with the back of my hand, waiting for the glare to fade, for the intensity to break just a little.
It never did.
