This isn’t just an annoyance in her schedule; it’s damage control. The fact that Maggie’s even here, in person, instead of yelling at me over the phone, tells me the severity of my fuck ups.
“Okay, fine,” I mutter, “I’ll lay low. No tequila, no pool parties, and I’ll delete Instagram for like… a week.”
Maggie shakes her head, slamming her tablet on the desk beside her. “You don’t need a social media cleanse! You need to look family-oriented and have stability in your mess of a life!”
I flinch at the tone of her voice.
Coach pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. “We need your sponsors and good press, Maverick.”
Maggie drums her fingers on the desk, letting out a long sigh. “You need to find someone who’ll be okay with being your fake wife for the public.”
I stare at her.
“She needs to look committed to you, so the sponsors can believe you are a family man and not pull out of our multi-million dollar deal.”
I scoff. “Where the fuck am I going to find someone at this hour?”
The one person I keep trying to contact won’t talk to me.
She lifts a brow. “You’d better find someone, and fast, or your career is over.”
I blow out a slow breath, my chest tightening with each inhale.
Coach lifts his ball cap, running his palm through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Think you’ve got someone who’ll play along?”
I nod slowly.
“Oh, I have someone in mind.”
Maverick
Ameliaaaaa
Maverick
Doll faceeeeee
Maverick
Please, help me
Maverick
Do you want me on my knees
Amelia
I mean, if you want to get on your knees, then be my guest
Maverick
I’m on my knees, please help me
Amelia
Maybe
I grin to myself.Shit, she’s one tough cookie.
