Me: Are you always like this?
Saint Stevenson: I'm usually better:)
Me: I hope you realize that you aren't holding up your end of our agreement.
Saint Stevenson: And are you holding up your end?
Me: Shouldn't you be getting ready to throw a ball pretty soon?
Saint Stevenson: So you are watching:)
Me: I said I would learn didn't I?
Saint Stevenson: I like that you can follow orders, Miss White. It will make things go a lot smoother later between us.
Oh good grief.
Me: I'm not following orders you lunatic. I'm watching a football game with a friend.
Saint Stevenson: What friend?
Me: I'm pretty sure you need to be warming up or something shouldn't you?
Saint Stevenson: Pay closer attention, Miss White. I don't play until later at four. There's plenty of time.
I just assumed when Jason mentioned that the Nighthawks were playing today that they were the team we would be watching together, but I was wrong. Evidently there's a one o'clock and a four o'clock game on Sundays, and Saint doesn't play until four. It doesn't matter much for our purposes though. A game is a game, and Jason's been taking a lot of pleasure in teaching me the rules of pro football.
While this isn't a date by any stretch of the imagination, I'm having a nice time. He's only looked at his phone during random commercials, and he helped me clean up the mess we made with the wings. All in all, I feel like this was progress in more ways than one. With Jason and with learning the game.
So why can't I seem to get off of my mind the fact that Saint was thinking aboutmeof all people on game day.
* * *
"I'm going to head out now. I'll see you in the office tomorrow."
"Thanks for helping me clean up, Jason, and for the tutoring session."
"No problem. Make sure to watch the Nighthawks later, and pay attention to the commercials. Maybe you and I can come up with some sort of strategic endorsement plan for both of our players."
Jason was given player Douglas James to manage. A newly drafted basketball player for New York City. Sounds like he wants us working even further together. Marisol is going to pee in her panties when I tell her.
"Okay, sounds good," I say casually.
I watch as Jason crosses the street and then bends over and makes a complete circle around his car with his hands checking for scratches or dents. I'm not really surprised. He's already expressed his reservations about living in Brooklyn (he's a Jersey boy), and he definitely loves that car of his.
I chuckle to myself as I'm reminded of Saint's comment about Jason possibly overcompensating with his car. Eh, like he's one to talk. I'm sure someone like Saint has a ton of expensive toys he uses to overcompensate his shortcomings with. Although I'd be hard pressed to name what one of his shortcomings would be.
Oh that's right, his personality.
I pour myself a mug of herbal tea and sit back down in front of the television, but this time with my laptop, so that I can take notes and start outlining a strategic plan. I've been thinking back on my conversation with Abby and it sparks something inside of me. If I'm ever going to show that I'm ready to be promoted to the next level, I'm going to have to make my mark with this Cro-Magnon athlete, and the only way to do that is to make the egomaniac some more money.
So that's what I'm going to do.
Chapter Ten
SAINT
I'm pretty sure that this day couldn't get any shittier. Even though it was only by a narrow margin, we still lost the game by a field goal. On top of that I'm going to be fined, because I didn't feel like answering any questions at the press conference after the game. They were dumb ass questions as usual, and I was pissed that they were waiting to throw daggers at me about my lack of performance. So I walked out.
