Winston is standing here, giving me the opportunity to get my clients back, but I might not even be able to represent them the way I want to. What about suit shopping for Brett? Or helping Holly through yet another nightmare of a date. When Lionel locks himself out of his social media once a month, who’s going to help him reset his password and save it in a special file folder? Who will answer Victoria’s questions about throwing themed parties? Will I be able to answer Delilah’s messages about which home decoration to buy at the thrift store?
He chuckles, and I almost think he can see the questions bouncing around in my brain. “Take your time on the decision. I’ll be here when you’re ready.” At the door, he grabs the knob and looks back. “And good on Cade for coming forward about Jon Sweeney. I heard Garrett dropped him the moment the article was released.”
My heart swells at the reminder of Cade’s bravery. Jon has officially been booted out of Cade’s life. The world knows the truth, and Cade can finally rest easy.
I should accept the job offer right now. It’s exactly what I want. Right? More pay. More success. More prestige.
So why can’t I speak? This is the chance to have it all. Maybe not my version, but thedreamversion. But is it what I want? Having a personal relationship with every client is special to me. It’s how I learn about themand can be there for them, and if having thirty of them means I can’t do that, will I be happy?
I stand. “I can’t take the job. Being with my clients every step of the way is what matters to me. Which means I need to do my own thing.”
Cade was right. Over the last week, I played with the idea of opening my own practice, and this solidifies it.
Pride radiates from every single one of Winston’s smile lines. “I had a feeling you’d say that. Email me if you ever need a reference. I can’t wait to see what you do out there.”
Chapter Forty-Four
“Even Odds Sports Agency?”
I smile at the business cards. “Do you like it?”
“Like it? I love it.” Cade plays with the hot pink card. “It’s a little bit of us.”
“Yup,” I breathe. “It’s perfect.”
The last three weeks have been a whirlwind. Getting a business up and running isn’t for the weak. After leaving Permian for the last time, I dove into creating my dream sports agency. On day one, I chose a name. On day two, I filed for an LLC. On days three and four, I mapped out the business I wanted to create. A comfortable place run by a hands-on agent who sees clients as people while helping them reach their goals with happy bodies and minds.
By the end of the first week, I had an EIN, a business email, social media handles, and a business bank account. During the second week, I finalized my pitch deck that explains who I am, what I do, and why an athlete should work with me. At the beginning of the third week, I realized I had gotten into the routine of eating meals instead of chugging caffeine drinks, sleeping more than three hours a day, and taking my medicine regularly.
My PCOS thanks me for it every day.
“I’ll be paying you back,” I tell Cade. And replenishing my savings account that is nearly empty these days.
“Whatever you say, Shay baby.” He looks over my shoulder at my running list of tasks on the pink sticky notes that I stuck to the dining room wall. “You’re getting close. What’s next?”
My finger taps a line.Find an office space. Flyers of every commercial office for rent in Clear Lake are spread along the dining table, and I slide my favorite toward him. “This one’s expensive, but the coffee shop downstairs will keep me sane and caffeinated.”
Cade hums at my top choice. He’s probably falling in love with the emerald tile of the small office on the second floor like I did. Then he asks my least favorite question.
“Does it fit your business budget?”
I groan. “Nope. At this point, I’ll be working from home or in a box on the side of the road.”
His hand brushes mine for a reassuring second before an incoming video call pops up. Since leaving Permian, my phone has been too quiet, which is probably why we both jump at the sound.
An assortment of worst-case scenarios run through my mind as I click the green button. “What’s going on? Are you okay? How’s the knee?”
Deshawn snorts. “Jeez, Shay. I’m healthy. Texting is cool and all, but I haven’t heard your voice since everything went down. Can’t a guy call to say hi to his old friend?”
Cade waves before walking into the kitchen to give us some privacy. Talking to my former clients is a cacophony of emotions. Andy’s doing an amazing job, which is all I could ask for, but I miss taking care of them. I receive daily texts, even from Lionel, with updates and GIFs and unlimited love.
“I’m sorry.” I rub the back of my neck. “I’m really glad you called.”
Deshawn shifts, revealing an oddly shaped couch behind him. I remember seeing it in a magazine interview he did in his home. “Saw you started an Instagram for your own sports agency. How’s that going?”
“Slow,” I groan, looking at my list of unfinished tasks. “The good news is that I have the admin stuff done. All I need is a space and some clients.”
And to market myself to death. I’ve got to get my name out there and find people willing to give me a chance.
