“Me either.” If the rumors were enough to get his company to hold back on the sponsorship, they had to be serious.
“Rumors could only mean one thing.”
Lifting an eyebrow, I looked at my best friend. “We don’t know this has anything to do with betting.”
“Why else would they want to pull out?” he asked. “The kid doesn’t have a record. Not one that would keep him from getting a deal. These rumors aren’t over a fucking parking ticket. We know that for sure.”
“We don’t know anything for sure,” I countered. “All we know is Eli isn’t showing up for practice, and this one sponsor said no. That’s it. We’re not about to jump to conclusions or get our asses clenched over bullshit rumors.”
“Are you sure they’re bullshit?” Preston asked.
“As far we know they are. This may not have anything to do with illegal betting.”
“It better not.” Preston looked me square in the eye. “You know I can’t have that shit anywhere near me. Not after …” He didn’t finish his sentence.
“Hey, no one outside of this room knows about your history of throwing fights. This is about Eli, not you.”
“How do we know that the same person who got me into those fights isn’t behind whatever is going on with Eli?”
I sighed. “Eli just got to Texas. Whatever he was involved with happened in LA. We need to check out Roger Wolcott’s history.”
Preston gritted his teeth. “I got out of fighting to walk away from all of that shit.”
“Your history won’t come back to bite us in the ass. I’ll see to it.” I was serious. Preston’s past was that. History. He no longer bet on fights, nor was he a competitor.
“I’m going to make some calls. We need to check out Wolcott and see if shaking that tree gets us any information before we talk to Eli,” I said as I stood to leave Preston’s office.
I had a feeling Eli wouldn’t call us back before the end of the day. A gnawing feeling in my gut told me this was only the beginning of whatever mess the kid had going on.
* * *
Lena
“I knew this wouldn’t work.” I pushed out a breath and tossed the pillow in my lap to the other end of the couch. Again, I found myself surrounded by empty or near empty scraps of paper.
Not one new chorus, line, or title to speak of in the week since I lost to Gabe in that pool game. Since then, mymusehad shown up a couple of times throughout the week, taking me to dinner or out for dessert.
I had to admit the company wasn’t too bad and the restaurants were good, too. Yet, nothing happened with my writing.
The need for fresh air took over, and I rose to my feet. I grabbed my phone off the coffee table and sent a text to Jodi before I knew what I was doing. It was the middle of the day, but maybe she had an opening for lunch.
When she responded that she was free, we made a plan to meet in thirty minutes at a place that served Caribbean food.
A half an hour later, I walked into the restaurant and spotted Jodi seated in one of the booths by the window. I pointed out to the hostess that the person I was meeting was already there. I glanced around the dining area, noting the colorful paintings on the wall surrounded by the flags from various Caribbean countries.
Overhead, the one and only Bob Marley’s “One Love” pushed through the speakers.
“Finally. I was about to send out an APB for you,” Jodi said as I took my seat in the booth across from her.
“I’m not even five minutes late,” I said, glancing at the time on my phone with a frown.
“Whatever.” She didn’t even look at me as she peeled open the menu. “Me and this kid are hungry.”
My mouth dropped open, and I stared at her. Her eyes remained glued to the menu. “Did you say what I think you just did?”
Her eyes lifted toward the ceiling as if she replayed her statement over in her head. She grinned when her gaze fell back to me.
“Yeah, sorry to blurt it out like that,” she answered. “This kid has me being more blunt than usual these days.”
