Just the other night, she saw me staring at my financial spreadsheets. “Stop staring at your bank account like it personally offended you,” she’d said, coming up to massage my shoulders.
“As a matter of fact, I do feel personally offended,” I’d admitted, blowing out a heavy breath as I’d stared at the low balance in my savings account. “All that hard work and barely anything to show for it.”
She’d scooted into my lap, straddling me and stirring my cock awake. “You’re Lincoln Raines. You’re brilliant and you’re talented and you can do anything you want. And besides, I’m sort of rich now,” she’d whispered in my ear. “You could take time away from work and be a hot house husband until you figure out your next move.”
I’d looked up at her, squeezing her ass. “Ooh! Do I get to join the PTA?”
She’d narrowed those shrewd brown eyes at me. “As long as you tell those perky PTA moms to keep their paws off you.”
With a laugh, I’d promised to do so.
And while I don’t quite know if baking and volunteering is my destiny, it feels good to be able to focus on my family and take it one day at a time.
Right now, I’m distracted from my worries, watching Cameron and Jules having way too much fun painting the bathroom wall. My phone rings. Wiping my hands on an old rag, I fish it out of my pocket. I glance down at the screen, seeing that it’s an unknown number.
“Hey, guys. I need to take this. Let’s not paint the tub pink, okay?” I chuckle, stepping out into the hallway to answer the call. “Hello?”
“Is this Lincoln Raines?” the person on the other end asks.
I frown. “It is. How can I help you?”
“I’m Tommy Joseph. I’m a professional football player and I was hoping you could help me negotiate a contract extension,” he says, sounding doubtful.
I choke, immediately coughing, sputtering, and struggling to breathe.
Tommy Joseph?TheTommy Joseph. No way.
This has to be a prank call. There’s no way the biggest up and coming name in pro football this season is calling me up out of the blue.
“Tommy Joseph…?” I repeat like an idiot, when I can finally inhale oxygen without dying again.
There’s not a day that goes by without this guy’s name being plastered across the sports media. Half the nation worships him. The other half is just pissed he’s not on their team. He’s barely twenty-five, and he’s already a legend.
Landing him as a client would not just save my business, it would catapult me to a whole new level.
My heart is pounding as I fight to maintain my cool.
He continues to speak. “Yeah, man. I got your number from a teammate’s cousin’s uncle, who said you helped him with a hockey contract years ago. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course,” I say, a little too eagerly. “I’ve seen that you’re about to be a free agent this year. So what’s going on with the new contract? What can I help with?” I stand straighter, projecting confidence into my voice.
“Bro, I don't know what’s going on,” Tommy says over the line. “I thought everything was locked in, but now my current team is acting squirrelly about this contract extension. I cut ties with my agent, because he’s too busy partying it up in Sin Valley. But I need help. I heard you're tough, and not afraid to go to bat for your clients.”
“You heard right,” I tell him.
I’m already heading into my office to roll up my sleeves and fire up my computer. My phone buzzes with a text from Easton, but I ignore it. My brother can wait. And once he finds out who I'm on the phone with, I know he won’t mind.
My vacation day already long forgotten, I shift into agent mode, laying out a course of action for Tommy’s negotiations. I type out some quick notes, elaborating a specific plan for what I will and won’t say during the discussions.
Tommy and I start on a list of documents that I’ll send over to the team on his behalf, and I strongly recommend that he avoids meeting with their GM until I can join him. I’m really not sure what his former agent was thinking, but this guy could easily be one of the highest-paid players in the league right now.And if I have anything to say about it, he will be.
By the time we hang up, I’ve assured Tommy that it will be my personal mission to make sure he’s taken care of.
I lean back in my office chair, in a daze over the unexpected call. It takes a few minutes before I remember the unread text message from Easton.
Easton: Hey bro. One of my teammates has been complaining about his agent. He’s just a rookie, but could have a nice future ahead of him. I know things are a shit show for you right now. Would you be interested in talking to him?
I laugh out loud.
