Am I a little lonely?
“Jabari, you arenotlonely.”Crap,did mywords just echo in here?
I look around as if visual evidence of an echo can be found, but all I see is the furniture my interior designer used to decorate thespace. The monochrome colors aren’t very personable—it almost looks staged. There are no family pictures displayed on my living room walls. The only thing that has my true mark is my office.
Pictures of big wins from high school through my professional career decorate the walls. It’s probably why I’m in that room the most, even though I don’t really have any work to do in there. Usually I spend time posting on my social media sites, reporting anything the Warriors pass to us, and answering fan mail that’s been forwarded to me by my assistant.
My days are pretty straightforward. Workout. Practice. Play in the games. Come home. Rest and repeat. I haven’t been on a date in maybe a year and have no plans to go on one anytime soon. Why would I? All women want to know is when can I see myself settling down and how much money I pull in per season. It doesn’t help that the world loves to report on NHL players’ salary. The gold diggers know how much I’ll bring home after taxes before I do. Because of that, I’m giving dating a break, which means the only people I hang around are the Warriors.
Crap. Maybe I actuallyamlonely.
2
Val
You know those days—the ones where anything and everything can and will go wrong? Yeah, today is turning out to be just that epic.
I set the cardboard coffee carrier down on Stella’s desk.
“Whathappened to you?” she asks.
“DC pedestrians.” I stare down at my freshly stained white blouse.
She snorts, then covers her mouth at my glare. “I’m sorry, Val, but you have to admit that’s a little funny.”
I raise an eyebrow.
“Did you at least bump into a handsome guy? That could’ve been your meet-cute.”
I fake a shudder. “Please no. It’s not cute getting hot coffee all down yourwhiteblouse, especially when it’s freezing out.”
Of course my drink would be the only one to spill. Guess I should’ve waited until I got to work before trying to drink it. How the coffee managed to find the perfect opening in my buttoned peacoat and splash all down my front is a mystery.
“Do you have a change of clothes in your office?”
I nod. “Going there now.”
“I’ll hand out the rest of the coffees.”
“Thanks. You’re the best.”
I stroll down the hall toward my office. I’m not a sports agent like my dad, sisters, brother-in-law, and the other two agents in-house, but I still get my own office because of my title as project manager. Being one of the boss’s daughters probably helps too.
“Val,” Jackie yells for me from her office.
I hold up a finger for her to give me a moment, but my sister motions for me to get my rear in gear.Bossy older sisters.I blow out a breath and stop in her doorway.
“Yes, Mac,” she speaks into her cell. “We can make that happen. DeVante will continue at the same level of performance.”
I mentally scour our list of clients and pull up the player information that belongs to DeVante Smith. He plays for the District’s baseball team and is currently in negotiations for the upcoming season. However, that doesn’t explain why Jackie flagged me down. I tap on my smartwatch, and she holds a hand up, mouthing,Wait a minute.
Can I stick my tongue out at my older sister? Doesn’t she know this coffee on my shirt turned cold a couple of blocks away from the office? More than likely she’s oblivious to the brown stain more horrendous than a newborn’s first bowel movement. I still remember when my precious nephew granted me that terrible short straw. Why do aunts have to be hazed by way of dirty diapers?
I shift on my feet, and Jackie’s gaze darts my way. Her gaze freezes.
“Uh, no, sorry, Mac. Yes, I’m listening.”What happened to you?she mouths.
I motion toward my office, and she nods.Finally.I have a dusty-pink silk blouse hanging in my office closet from the Christmas party. Dad brought matching Christmas shirts for us all to pose in, and my silk top never saw daylight. It’s remained in my office ever since. I’ll have to drop the soiled top at the cleaners when I get a chance because no one has blessed me with a personal assistant.
