“What about you? Still trying to save the world one athlete at a time?”
Jean rolls her eyes dramatically. “Please, it’s like herding cats, but with more egos.” She leans closer to the screen, her gaze piercing. “Speaking of athletes, have you run into him yet?”
“Him who?”
She cocks her head knowingly. “You know who. You’ve been in Anaheim for six months and you haven’t seen Harrison?”
The mere mention of his name sends a shiver of panic down my spine. I shake my head, swallowing another sip of my terrible coffee. “Not yet.”
“And Connor is with him right now?”
“Well…” I shrug. “I mean it’s a hockey camp with several of the team members so…”
God, I’m so full of shit.
Jean chuckles. “You know you’re full of shit, right?”
“Yep. Well aware.” I nod and take another sip of my coffee.
“Well as long as we agree.” She winks, then slides on her reading glasses and squints at something offscreen. “Alright, enough small talk. I’ll let you tumble down that inevitable rabbit hole on your own.”
I barely have time to roll my eyes and sigh before she continues. “Let’s get to the good stuff. I’ve got something that might interest you. A potential new client. Well, three of them, actually.”
“Three?”
“Triplets,” she says, tapping her pen against her pad like she’s narrating a true crime episode. “The Haynes brothers. One plays football, quarterback, apparently a real crowd-pleaser. The other two play baseball, one a pitcher, one a catcher. All coming up fast through the college ranks. Their current rep is…well, let’s just say he’s more ‘dad with a spreadsheet’ than agent material.”
I sit up straighter. “Triplets, huh? That’s a PR gold mine. Built-in brand symmetry, family story, crossover potential…”
“Exactly,” Jean says, smiling like a proud mother hen. “The football one—Shepherd—is getting draft buzz. Killian and Bishop are already being scouted for MLB farm teams. They’re young, marketable, and they need someone who can handle the complexity of multiple contracts and image management. Which, if I recall correctly, is your specialty.”
I flip to a new tab and furiously type out a few notes. “What’s their angle? Are they looking for full-service representation or just contract negotiation?”
“Full service. But I want you to take the lead on this. You’re our closer, Harper, and besides, I’m much closer to retirement age than you are. My goal before I’m done here is to make sure you have a full docket of clients to keep you busy.”
“I’m honored and excited! I’ll do whatever I can for these boys.”
“I know you will,” she says with a satisfied smile. “They’re based in the Midwest for now, but rumor has it they all might end up in the pros within the next year. It could be a huge win for the agency. And for you. And just imagine if you were to get them all in the same city. The branding you could come up with for the hometown heroes.”
She’s not wrong.
This could be a gold mine.
My chest does that fluttery thing that only comes from career adrenaline. “Send me their files. I’ll do a deep dive tonight.”
Jean smirks. “That’s my girl. Just don’t forget to breathe. You’ve been working like a machine since the move.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, twirling a pen between my fingers.
“Fine usually means running on fumes and unresolved emotional baggage,” she says, arching a brow. “And before you tell me I’m wrong, remember I’ve known you since your internship. You only get that crease between your brows when you’re trying not to think about something.”
I freeze, feeling that old ache surface. The one that has a name, a number, and a jersey that still lives rent-free in my brain. The one that is hanging out with my kid on the ice and doesn’t even know it.
“Just work,” I say quickly. “I’m focused on work.”
Jean gives me a long, knowing look but lets it slide, thank God. “Alright, Harper the Machine. I’ll email you the Haynes file. And maybe—just maybe—go outside this weekend. Touch grass. Flirt with a human. Maybe even one who doesn’t own a helmet.”
“Ha-ha,” I deadpan.
