She nodded and greeted me, “Good morning. I’ve printed out your schedule for the day, and you wanted me to remind you that you’d left your car parked in section B6 of the parking garage.”
“What would I do without you?” I disliked driving and did it as little as I could, but sometimes the job required me to get in my car to meet clients. I would often forget where I’d left my car parked. The day before I’d written it down and told Dawn to remind me.
“Lord only knows.” She smiled before laughing.
Dawn wasn’t officially my receptionist. She took calls and did a lot of administrative work for a number of the other businesses that ran out of this office space. She was paid by the building’s owner out of the collective rent they received. However, on more than one occasion I’d considered hiring her full-time to work solely for me.
“I may have to make you an offer you can’t refuse.” I wiggled my eyebrows in her direction, pointing my hand with my coffee mug in it at her.
“As long as I don’t wake up with any dead horses in my bed, I’ll consider it.”
I picked up my schedule from Dawn’s desk and instantly groaned at the sight of my two hour mid-morning client meeting.
“That’s the same face you made yesterday when looking at the same client name.”
“I should’ve never agreed to taking on these clients.”
“Then why did you?” Dawn questioned.
I wrinkled my forehead before raising my gaze from the schedule in my hands to Dawn. “Because when the woman who mentored you, helped you get a highly coveted position,andgifted you the seed money to start your own company asks you to do her a favor, it’s not all that easy to tell her no.” I sighed before taking another sip of my coffee.
“Better you than me. I hate athletes.” Dawn shivered before turning back to her desktop.
“Me too,” I mumbled before heading back to my office. I checked the time on my wrist watch as soon as I reached my desk and booted up my desktop. Sitting down, I waved at one of the male owners of the event planning company as he walked past. Sometimes the fact that all of the office walls were made of glass could make one feel like they were working in a damn fishbowl, but for the most part, I liked my office space. I got a kick out of opening my door that read “Destiny McDonald, Financial Advisor.”
I got lost in checking and sending emails when the phone on my desk rang.
“Destiny McDonald, Financial Advisor, how can I help you?” I answered in one breath without taking my eyes off the email I’d been typing.
“Are you ready?”
My hands stilled over the keyboard. “I still don’t get why you couldn’t take on this job.”
“There’s no way Mike would allow me to teach his guys. He says they think of me as a sweet mama bear and they’d never listen to my advice. They’re a tough group,” she answered, hints of her southern accent, derived from her Nashville, Tennessee roots apparent in her voice.
I snorted. “So I’m the sacrifice.”
Brenda McClellan’s giggle moved through the phone lines. “Hardly, honey. Those boys will take one look at you and not even realize they are the ones who better stay out of your way or get eaten alive.”
“Oh, but they’ll find out soon enough.”
“I’m sure they will. They’re all good boys. Just need a little guidance.”
“These are grown ass men who’ve been coddled their whole lives.” I rolled my eyes, being all too familiar with the lives of professional athletes.
“They’re not that bad. Just whip ’em into shape. Mike’s really concerned about how these guys are handling their money. You read the report that came out a few years ago citing that most professional athletes—”
“File for bankruptcy within five years of ending their careers. Yes, I’m familiar with it.”
“And after Denny’s suicide last year, Mike took it really hard. He still feels like shit that one of his former players didn’t feel he could come to him to talk about his financial troubles.”
I did my best to ignore the pang of sadness that filled my belly but I couldn’t. Mike McClellan, Brenda’s husband, was the head football coach for the Williamsport Cougars and had been for the previous decade. Denny Wilson had been a star player whose rise came quickly, and burnout came even quicker. After years of being hounded by financial problems due to the mismanagement of his money, Denny took his own life.
“Great. Lay a guilt trip on me to get me to do your bidding.”
“How’s it working?”
I smirked. “Like a charm. I’m heading out in about twenty minutes.”
