She exhales a frustrated breath as we both sit across from one another like adversaries. “Kennedy, are you aware of your reputation in the league?”
“For being a badass, amazingly talented player? Yep.”
She shakes her head. “No. There’s no denying your talent. It’s there. It’s your attitude that’s a bigfuckingproblem. Did you know that Prescott Wellington shopped you to every team in the league? Every. Single. Team. He knows you have family issues and didn’t want to end up in Philly. He cared enough about you to try to find you another home and was practically giving you away to other teams for nothing, yet no one took him up on it. It’s not about your talent, it’s about you.”
I shrug, acting unaffected even though hearing that cuts deep. “What do you want from me? If I were a man, wewouldn’t even be having this conversation. I’d be praised for having confident charisma. But because I’m a woman, I’m a bitch? A problem? Fuck everyone and their double standards.”
She surprises me by nodding and saying, “Frankly, I agree with that statement, but the fact remains you’re not a man. For better or worse, we play by a different set of rules, and that giant chip on your shoulder does nothing for you. I’m the CEO of a Fortune 500 company. You don’t think I have to deal with sexist shit like this too? Double standards are the regular course of business for me. I eat them for breakfast every morning…in my mansion…that I paid for. All before I get into my two-hundred-thousand-dollar car…that I also paid for. And then I make my way to the biggest skyscraper in Philly…that I own. To the top floor…because that’s where my corner office is. The office of the CEO of one of the biggest, most successful companies in the world…that I run.”
I roll my eyes at her dramatics. “Congratulations. Good. For. You, Madam CEO. What do you want from me?”
She leans back on the sofa. “I’m averygood judge of character. You don’t get to be in my position without learning how to read people. I think there’s a smart woman behind all your abrasiveness. I think there’s a way to channel your tough-girl exterior into something that worksforyou, notagainstyou. If I were you, instead of feeding into certain dialogue, I’d flip the script. It’s not too late for you to change the way people view you.”
I exhale an audible breath. “Again, what is it that you want from me? Spit it out in English.”
She sits upright. “First, I want you to cut your shit with me. I see through it. This bravado you’ve got going for you is likely masking some other crap in your life. I’m guessing it has to do with your family.”
I ball my fists until my nails cut into my palms. “Screw you. I don’t owe you an explanation of my family dynamics.”
She nods. “Agreed. But I’m the only one giving you what’s likely your last shot at making a true name for yourself in thisleague. If I waive you, no one will pick you up. That’s a guarantee. You should learn to play nicely in the sandbox with me. If you’re as smart as I think you are, you’ll realize you still control the dialogue. You still control your future. You’re in a unique situation right now. Like it or not, Sulley O’Shea is a phenomenon. She’s unlike anything this league has ever experienced before, bringing in millions of new fans every damn day. Our games are already sold out for the season. Not just our home games. Our away games too. Every single one is sold out because people want to see her play. And it happened in less than twenty-four hours since we drafted her yesterday.”
I can’t mask my shock. I don’t think I’ve ever played a professional game in a stadium that’s been more than half full. Sold out? Every game? I have no words for that.
She gives me a knowing smile. “Yep. Unreal. Like I said, she’s a phenom. A superstar never seen before in women’s sports. But she’s wet behind the ears, Kennedy. Innocent through and through. Sulley is a good kid. She’s very unaffected and unaware. Instead of workingagainsther, workwithher. Be her friend. She could use a guide in this new, scary world. She’s originally from a small town. She went to a college five minutes from that town and has never lived in a big city. You saw how she was dressed last night. Maybe start there. Help her find some new, more appropriate cosmopolitan clothing. She’s going to be photographed. I want her to look good, and if I were you, I’d want to be the person photographed next to her. Star power tends to rub off on those close by.”
I cross my arms. “I’m not a fashion consultant; I’m a basketball player.”
She runs her finger over her bottom lip. “No, you’re not a fashion consultant, but you have real style. You’re always dressed well and made up perfectly. You put time and thought into your appearance. It matters to you. You’re a beautiful, smart, talented woman. There’ssomuch untapped potential with you. If I were you, I’d embrace what Sulley can do for youand your career.” She reaches into her purse and fishes around for a moment before emerging with a black American Express credit card. Handing it to me, she says, “After you move to Philly, call her and take her shopping. Take Palmer and a few other teammates too. The two of them are living together. They could both use your sense of style, and it will be an olive branch. A way for you all to bond.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You’re giving me uninhibited use of your Black Card?” I know black American Express cards are invitation-only and given to very few people in the world. It’s a billionaires’ club with no spending limits.
She stands and runs her hands down her suit before holding up a single finger. “One day. You can use it for one day as long as you’re with Sulley and Palmer.”
I smile as I rub my hands together. “Ooh, this is going to put a dent in that big bank account of yours.”
She returns my smile with a genuine one of her own. “Do your worst, Kennedy Jeffries.”
Game on, Reagan Daulton. Game on.
TWO
DAYLEN
Iwalk into my house at eight in the morning, wearing the same clothes I left in last night. I can hear the loud thumping of BJ’s feet padding across my large, marble-floored foyer to greet me before she leaps into my waiting arms. I squeeze my favorite being on the planet into a tight embrace. “I missed you too, sweet girl.”
Bark.
“Is my precious angel hungry?”
Bark. Bark.
BJ is my Doberman Pinscher. Her name is short for Blackjackie. I originally named her Blackjack when I thought she was a male dog as a puppy. Admittedly, it took me a full week to figure out I had a female dog. The guys love to rib me about it, but BJ is the love of my life. I can’t imagine being without her. We have a special bond that no one understands.
I scratch behind her ear and, in a playful voice, tell her, “I’m sorry Daddy didn’t come home last night. I met a blonde who could suck a golf ball through a garden hose, and she wanted to suck on Daddy’s garden hose all night.”
Bark.
I sigh at her obvious hurt. “I know you hate all women, and I’m aware that breakfast is late, but I’ll make you a big serving today.”
