“Sounds like a goddamn vacation, to be honest. How many clients do you have?”
“Thirty-two.”
“And you’ll haveonein Vegas for triple the money?” he asks.
“Yeah, but I have no clue who this client is. Just that he’s high profile and this is a nontraditional job. It could be me shadowing some stuck-up asshole day in and day out.”
“So…basically working with yourself?” he jabs, and I laugh.
“Shut up.”
“I’m kidding. It could be anyone. What if it’s one of the Hemsworth brothers and you have to spin a tale about his divorce so he can marry you?”
“You know better than to tempt me with the Hemsworths,” I say.
“Have you done a pro-con list yet?”
“Can I verbalize it?”
“Of course,” he says.
I tick them off, organizing them as I talk. “Cons are having to give up my client list, not knowing who I’m working with, and moving across the country. Pros are that I have family in the area, I’d cut from thirty-two to one, and my boss said he’d delete the non-compete from my contract so I could take this client with me and open my own firm when our contract terms expire.”
“Dude. Take the fucking job. You can’t spell it out more than that.”
“What if it’s an athlete?” It’s the same question I posed to my boss.
“We’re not so bad, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ve just been around a lot of you my entire life, and my job provides an excellent escape,” I say.
“Listen, plenty of athletes need someone like you in their corner,” he points out. “And if you really and truly want to branch off on your own, this might be your chance. At least get out to Vegas and give it a real chance.”
He’s right. I know he is. There’s never a good time to jump ship when I have as many clients as I do, but this contract will have a start and end date stamped on it, and that end date will be the key to my entire future.
If that’s what I really and truly want.
It is. It’s always been what I want for as far back as I can remember. I first learned what a brand strategist was when my mother wanted to project a certain image to the media. I was in first grade when Paola came into our house, shooed my siblings and myself out of the room, and got down to work.
I loved Paola’s gorgeous, designer business suits and dresses, and I knew that someday I’d step in the same kinds of Louboutins she did.
And now I do, except I’m still working for someone else.
I guess this means I have my answer.
CHAPTER 2: Maverick Jennings
Cocktail Straw
I toss my cards on the table and pick up the cocktail straw from my glass of scotch, clenching it down between my teeth. I frequent this casino in particular since they carry Lagavulin 16, my preferred single-malt elixir, though the crowds of people aren’t to my tastes. It’s why I find myself in the high-stakes room playing three-card poker on a Thursday night.
I have practice tomorrow. I’ll be starting for my new team.
I don’t want to be here.
I guess I don’t want to be here anymore than I wanted to be in Dallas, but the difference is that here, the giant star tattoo on my shoulder feels traitorous.
But I don’t care where I play. I just want to play.
