There’s nothing I hatemore than being wrong. And I was wrong.
“You have nine thousand followers!” Brett hasn’t stopped refreshing my social media page since he walked into my office an hour ago. “Some of these people have blue checkmarks.”
“You have a blue checkmark, and that means nothing to me,” I mutter.
He scoffs. “Pro athlete, Shay Shay. Many consider me abigdeal.”
In the basketball world, Brett Reynoldsisa big deal. First-round draft pick, former college star, and everyone’s go-to brunette when they need a Pinterest model, but I can’t let his head get any bigger than it already is. This meeting should’ve been short, only to discuss the toothpaste endorsement and his goals for the upcoming season, but my moment of fame is way more exciting to him.
Within six hours of saying goodbye to Cade and Violet at the farmers market, the news of Cade’s new representation hit the press. Adri shared the photo of us looking like a happy little family. Then my mother called with a quick congrats and a reminder to stay focused. Dad called next, his excitement bursting through the line. The next morning, Winston emailed the link to the entire agency to congratulate me on the announcement.
Five days later, and things are still insane.
Brett props his feet up on my desk, revealing tanned calves. “Did you read the article?”
I swipe his sneakers off and recoil. The headline made me nervous.
The Rise of Female Sports Agents? Finally!
Brett clears his throat dramatically before he reads, “Golden boy and shortstop for the Carolina Pilots, Cade Owens, has found representation in an unlikely but incredible place. Shaylene Turner, junior agent at Permian Sports Agency, is a rising star. Many know her as the elusive Angel Devil of Clear Lake University, with a sweet smile and deadly slide tackle. Her client list is stacked with stars like Brett Reynolds and Lionel Stiller of the NC Grizzlies. With a knack for negotiation and fighting for her clients, we look forward to watching Shay shine.” He grins. “Sounds like this Summer woman adored you. Listed all your socials too.”
I owe her for the boost. Athletes and sports teams started following me immediately, along with an influx of baseball fans.
Cracking open an energy drink, I let the caffeine bolster my confidence and open Instagram. My jaw unhinges when I see that Cade’s number of followers has tripled since the article was released. His posts are scarce, dating back to college, and each one has new comments asking if his sister needs a sister-in-law.
Women are so funny.
Then I click on my profile and find some not-so-nice comments.
@gopilots629 a girl??????? ew
@baseballfanboy_ don’t get why he wud leave Jon for her
@darkestpilots5 won’t last long
Brett looks up and grows serious, which is not like him. “What’s wrong?”
Waving away the feelings, I force an airiness into my voice. “I think I’m being judged.”
He leans over my desk and snatches my phone. “No more social media. Don’t let keyboard warriors who don’t even know proper grammar get you down.”
I knew I wouldn’t get a lot of support as a female agent, considering I don’t even get it from the men in my field, let alone my office, but I didn’t expect my bubble of privacy to be popped in such a public way.
After nibbling the skin around my fingers, I reach into my desk for a Hello Kitty Band-Aid. “People are going to keep saying nasty things.”
“Yeah, they will. Sadly, it’s par for the course.” Brett’s laugh is sad. “But there isn’t a single person who can take away what you’ve accomplished as an agent. You’re the one who made sure the Grizzlies picked up my third-year option.”
I squeeze the trophy-shaped stress ball Brett gave me before our meeting. “No, you did. It would have been a loss to the franchise if they’d traded you away.”
“But who reminded them of that?” He points at me. “You built a buzz around me. You stayed in contact with the front office and got feedback that paid off. You had my back, and not only do you have mine, but you have all your clients’ backs.” He stares out the tiny window. “I heard you’re going to physical therapy with Deshawn Miller.”
My eyes fly to him. “How do you know that?”
“Athletes talk.” To provoke me, he swings his legs back onto my desk. “People like you. Not that bastard Tr—” Brett’s lips zip as my phone rings.
Giving him a sympathetic smile, I hold up my finger and answer. “This is Shay.”
A grunt. “Five minutes, Turner.” Then Trevor hangs up.
