by Beth Ehemann
“Hey!” Brody frowned, holding his hands up in the air defensively.
“I’m not pussy whipp—okay, just kidding. I’m totally pussy whipped.” Viper nodded in agreement. “What can I say? My wife has a magical vagina that has made me forget all vaginas before her.”
Brody reached over and high-fived Viper again as I leaned forward on the table and rubbed my eyes with my palms. “Can we stop talking about magical vaginas now?”
“Why? Does the v-word make your cobwebs twitch?” Viper joked.
“Okay, okay.” Brody picked up a white paper napkin off the table and waved it around. “Enough. Seriously, let us help you look over some of these résumés. You have a ton here to go through.”
“I know.” I sighed. “And I’d like to have Ellie start scheduling some interviews in the next couple of weeks.”
“Wow, you’re moving on this quick, huh?” Brody stared at me with a concerned look on his face.
I nodded. “Yeah. We’re already halfway through June. I’d like to get someone in and salvage at least a little of the summer with my kids.”
“What exactly are you looking for?” Viper asked. “Do you want him to have a bunch of experience already, or do you want him fresh out of college so you can train him?”
“I definitely want someone with experience,” I answered as I shifted the papers around, skimming for one that caught my eye, “and if they brought along a few clients with them, that would be a huge bonus.”
“Whoa! Hold the fucking phone.” Viper picked up one of the résumés and stared at it wide-eyed, with his mouth hanging open.
Brody looked over at me, but I was just as confused as he was. “What?” he asked Viper.
Viper slid his eyes over to me. “Danicka Douglas sent a résumé in?”
“She did?” My eyebrows shot up at the name.
“Apparently,” Viper said, handing the paper to me. “How did you not know that?”
Danicka Douglas had only been in the sports management industry for a handful of years but had already made quite a name for herself. Not only had she closed a few killer endorsement deals that would make any agent drool, but she’d managed to sign a few of the nation’s top athletes.
Trevor Hutchins, the NFL’s top cornerback.
Sam Bulgart, the NFL’s leading rusher.
John Barker, the MLB’s top-paid pitcher, who also happened to have the lowest ERA in the National League.
Every single one of those star athletes was on her roster, and that definitely drove the stakes a little higher for me.
“Ellie’s been printing the résumés and putting them in a folder as they came in,” I answered without looking up from the paper. “I haven’t had a chance to look at many of them yet.”
“Dude, she’d be an amazing partner. Her lineup is pretty sick,” Brody said.
Viper leaned in close and whispered, “So is her body. Have you seen her? Jesus. She didn’t get the nickname Double D for nothin’.”
Still staring down at her credentials, I frowned. “I haven’t seen her in person, but I’ve seen pictures of her. She’s cute, yes, but I’m more interested in the clientele she’ll bring with her.”
“If you bring her into the firm, I’m firing you and switching over to her side,” Viper teased in a dirty tone.
“Who are you firing?” Michelle’s voice rang out in the kitchen, and Viper instantly straightened up like a teenager who just got caught smoking a cigarette.
Michelle walked over to the table and sat next to Viper, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. Just a few seconds behind her was Kacie, who sat on Brody’s lap.
Viper swallowed. “Where’s Michael?”
“Asleep in the living room.” She pointed toward the door they’d just come through. “Now who’s firing who?”
“Oh, we were just joking around.” Viper shrugged her question off, but it was my turn to laugh. I knew he was shaking on the inside, hoping she hadn’t heard us.
“What’s all this?” Kacie asked, leaning over the table for a closer look.
“Résumés.” I sighed, staring down at the overwhelming pile before us. “I’m bringing in a new agent, and these are just some of the people who applied.”
“Wow! That’s impressive that so many people want to work with you, Andy.” Kacie smiled.
“Thanks, I’m just hoping I can find someone who I can tolerate every single day. I’ve been doing this for so long by myself, the thought of handing over control freaks me out.”
Michelle reached over and grabbed the top sheet off the stack, her eyes darting left to right as she studied it. “Danicka Douglas. Oooh, a woman! There aren’t too many female sports agents out there, I bet.”
“Wow! A woman in a man’s world. She must be a badass. Is she cute?” Kacie asked innocently, looking from me to Viper to Brody. All three of us kept our eyes glued to the table, refusing to look up at them. “Oh, come on!” Kacie chuckled. “I’m mature enough to handle my husband acknowledging a beautiful woman.”
Don’t fall for it, man. Mouth shut. Head down. No eye contact.
As if he read my mind, Brody stared straight down, not even attempting to speak.
Being the only man in the room without a wife, I took one for the team. “Um, she’s okay, I guess.”
“Oh, please. You three are terrible liars.” Kacie rolled her eyes as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and thumbed something onto the screen. “I’ll look it up myself.” A few seconds later, the screen glowed and her green eyes bulged. “Whoa.”
“What?” Michelle hopped up and rushed around the table, peering over Kacie’s shoulder. “Let me see.” As soon as Michelle looked at the screen, her eyes bulged just like Kacie’s had. “Holy crap. She’s not cute, she’s hot. Look at that outfit. I bet she has a stylist.”
“I didn’t even notice her outfit, I was too busy looking at her dark, shiny hair.” Kacie’s thumb continuously swiped left, switching the picture. Then she gasped and looked up at Michelle. “You know who she looks like? Mila Kunis!”
“Oh my God, you’re right.” Michelle nodded.
They both stood silent, gawking at Kacie’s phone as she flipped from picture to picture.
Finally Kacie set the phone down and smacked her lips together as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Okay. Forget it. I’m not mature. You can’t hire her.”
“What?” Viper, Brody, and I all said in unison.
“I second what Kacie said.” Michelle shook her head as she walked back around to her seat. “She’s way too beautiful. Sorry. We’d really prefer a seventy-year-old man who wears black socks and sandals.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute.” Viper held his hand up. “Andy is a healthy, unmarried man of consenting age. There is absolutely no reason for you guys to object to him hiring her.”
“Um . . . yeah, there is,” Michelle argued back as she pointed back and forth from Brody to Viper. “You two boneheads spend half your free time hanging out at Andy’s office. If she gets hired, there will be no more of that.”
I held my hands up defensively. “Let’s not go grounding them from my office just yet, okay? I haven’t even interviewed her yet, let alone made a decision on who I’m hiring.”
As they continued arguing about the boys not hanging around at my office should I decide to hire her, I made a mental note to get a haircut before that interview, just in case.
CHAPTER 5
Andy
“Morning, Ellie!” I exclaimed cheerfully as I stepped out of the elevator.
Ellie gasped and whipped around with her hand on her chest. “Oh my God. You scared the crap out of me. What’s the matter with you?” she said, glaring at me.
“Nothing’s the matter with me. I was simply wishing my lovely assistant a happy Monday morning.” I walked over and set a Starbucks cup down on her desk. “Here, I got you a present. It isn’t a cinnamon roll, but it is a grande caramel macchiato with extra drizzle, just the way you like it.”
She stared down at the cup and pulled her eyebrows in tight. “Awww, thank you. Now I feel bad for cursing at you in my head a few seconds ago.”
“Don’t sweat it.” I laughed, making my way to Ethan’s office. “I’m sure I’ll piss you off at some point today, so let’s just put a credit in the Andy’s-an-asshole jar.”
I heard her giggle as I rounded the corner into Ethan’s office. “And you, you glorious, suit-wearing bastard, how are you this morning?”
Ethan, who had his back to me as he looked out his window, turned slowly, staring at me skeptically with on eyebrow raised. “What’s wrong? Am I getting fired?”
I rolled my eyes. “Really? You think I would bring you coffee if I were firing you?”
He looked up at the ceiling and tilted his head back and forth. “Maybe?”
I held the Starbucks cup in the air. “Here you go, Ethan. You’re not being fired . . . today.” I put the cup on his desk and walked out of his office, feeling his eyes on the back of my head the whole time.
As I passed back by Ellie’s desk on the way to my office, she narrowed her eyes at me. “Why are you in such a good mood today?”
“Today is Freedom Day, El. Interviews start, and I can see a small speck of light at the end of a long, dark tunnel.” I winked at her and closed my office door.
Tossing my bag on the couch as I passed it, I paraded over to my desk with a spring in my step. It really was a big day for Shaw Management. I’d been working as a solo artist with a few good backup dancers, but it was time to form a group. A real group. The thought of having someone to commiserate with over a lost deal or vent to when a football player got his boxers in a wad because The Tonight Show didn’t have the right color Gatorade he requested sounded really appealing. While Ellie and Ethan were a great support system, they just didn’t get it sometimes.
As I took the lid off my coffee to let out some of the heat, my phone chirped. I had a text from Brody.
B: Hey! Good luck on your interviews today! If it doesn’t work out with any of them, just remember you still have me as a best friend so you’re a winner regardless.
I let out a quick laugh and rolled my eyes as I flipped my computer on to look over the schedule that Ellie e-mailed me first thing every morning. My day was packed. More than packed. The interviews started at eight o’clock and were every half an hour until two thirty in the afternoon.
Half an hour?
Crap. That wasn’t going to allow me a whole lot of time to talk to each person. I took out a notepad and started jotting down a few notes about each potential agent, things I wanted to ask, questions about their current clients, that sort of thing. As my eyes scanned down the list, they froze at the two o’clock appointment. The last appointment of the day.
Danicka Douglas.
My mind immediately jumped back a couple of weeks to sitting around the table at the lake house with Michelle and Kacie freaking out about how beautiful she was. Without thinking, I typed her name into Google. Instead of reading the articles about her deals, most of which I probably knew already, I clicked on the images tab. Dozens of pictures filled the screen, mostly of her at events with clients.
I clicked on the first one and leaned in a little closer. It was a picture of her on the red carpet with her arm looped around Sam Bulgart’s giant bicep on their way in to the ESPY Awards last year. I was there, too, but I sure didn’t remember seeing her. I would’ve remembered. Michelle and Kacie were right; she was . . . exquisite. Long, straight, dark hair, and her skin had an olive tint to it that glowed like she lived on the beach. She had huge, beautiful dark brown eyes. They were the first thing I noticed about her. The second was her lips, not too thin and not too plump. They framed her amazing smile perfectly. If the sports agent thing didn’t work out for her, she had a definite shot at toothpaste commercials. I could break the ice and tell her that?
Probably not a great idea.
As I scrolled down the screen, studying each one of her pictures, my cell phone rang. I grabbed it and turned it on, cringing at the last second when I noticed who it was.
“This is Shaw,” I answered, gritting my teeth as I prepared myself.
“Andrew, it’s Blaire.”
A phone call from my ex-wife was not the way I wanted to start my Monday morning. Or any Monday. Or any morning. Ever.
Hi, Satan.
“Hi, Blaire.” I tried to sound as upbeat as possible. “How are—”
“What is this I’m hearing that you’re taking on another agent?” she interrupted.
“Uh, I believe you just answered your own question. I’m hiring another agent.” My mind started racing with ways to get off the phone with her.
A loud sigh echoed in my ear. “I don’t have time for sarcasm, Andrew. I think I have the right to know what’s going on with your company.”
“Last time I checked, Blaire, we were divorced. That pretty much means you don’t have the right to know about anything of mine anymore, especially my business.” Thirty seconds into a conversation with her and as usual, I was wondering how we managed to stay married for almost nine years.
“You’re right, Andrew, we are divorced, but I do have a little bit of a stake in your business, so when I hear things that concern me, of course I’m going to ask you about them.”
“Why the hell would me hiring another agent concern you?” I bit back, suddenly so frustrated I was ready to flip my desk.
“Well, I’m assuming that means that you’ll now be sharing commissions, which means you’ll be making less money overall, and that obviously concerns me.”
Holy shit. She’s unbelievable.
“It always comes down to money with you, doesn’t it, Blaire?” Blood zipped through my veins like a jet-engine car. My heart started beating faster, and I desperately wanted to reach through the phone and shake the hell out of her and her fucked-up priorities. “You call . . . do you even ask about the kids or how their summer’s going so far? Nope. You just want to make sure that your alimony checks aren’t gonna shrink because I’m hiring someone. You are so messed up.”
Silence.
A normal person might assume that I had hurt her feelings with what I’d said, but for that to be true, one would have to verify that she actually had feelings in the first place. I knew Blaire. I knew exactly what she was doing right that second. Like a scary tornado on an Oklahoma summer night, she was back building. The pressure was swirling and swirling up in her platinum-blonde head, and she was about to blow.
“You’re damn right I need to make sure my checks won’t be shrinking!” she spat out, just like I expected. “I earned every cent of the small amount you give me every month after putting up with you for so many years.” Her voice cracked as she spoke . . . just another one of Blaire’s ploys. “And my children are special to me. As a matter of fact, I have all sorts of fun activities planned for this coming weekend. You’re the one who’s messed up, Andrew.”
Click.
Had I known she was going to call, I could’ve scripted out exactly how that conversation would go.
Blaire snaps. I defend. Blaire snaps again, pretending to be hurt, then she hangs up or walks away before you can respond. She always has to have the last word.
Always.
That’s how all my conversations with Blaire went. Even when we were married.
I sighed and turned my phone off before I set it down, just in case she decided she wanted to freak out about something else and call back again. Gloria had my cell number, the office number, my direct office line, and both Ellie’s direct office line and cell number. If there was an emergency, the important people in my life knew how to get a hold of me, and that’s all that mattered. For all I cared, Blaire could yell at my voice mail. It wouldn’t be the first time.
As I turned back to my notes, my office phone rang. Narrowing my eyes, I stared at it for a split second, wondering how the hell she could have gotten my direct number. I shook the thought from my head and picked up the p
hone. “Shaw.”
“Mr. Shaw, your first appointment is here,” Ellie said in the happy, professional tone she always used when there was a client in the office.
“Already?” My head spun toward the wall clock, and it was two minutes to eight o’clock.
“Yes, sir. Your second appointment, too.”
“No way.” Between Danicka’s pictures and Blaire’s call, I’d lost all track of the few minutes I had to do any real research. “Okay, for today especially, let’s keep the coffee brewing and make sure the fridge is stocked with Gatorade. Maybe some snacks, too?”
“Already taken care of, Mr. Shaw.”
“You’re the best, El. Wait three minutes and send him in, okay?”
“Yes, sir.”
I hung up the phone and raced to the bathroom to give myself a quick once-over. “You can do this. You’re in control. They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t want to be,” I said to myself in the mirror as I adjusted my tie.
Closing the bathroom door behind me, I strode confidently to my desk, ready to shake some hands and ask some tough questions. Just as I sat down there was a light knock on the door.
“Come in,” I hollered.
And just like that, we were off . . .
“I’m so sorry,” Marty Leonard apologized for the tenth time in two minutes.
I nodded as I walked him to the elevator. “I know you are.”
“Can I have another chance?” he pleaded, his hands shaking like teenage boy asking a girl to prom.
“Nope.”
“But . . . I just . . . I wanted to impress you,” he stammered as he stepped into the elevator and spun around to face me.
“I know you did, but lying during an interview? Not impressive, Mr. Leonard.” I reached in and pressed the Lobby button since he was making no movement toward it. “Especially when you’re lying about representing athletes who are already represented by the person you’re interviewing with. Have a good day.” Before he could say another word, the elevator closed and he was gone.
