Jabari thinks a moment. “If that’s what you want.”
“Hmm.” My mind is thinking a mile a minute. “Maybe Fran can come with me too. Then we could stay a little bit longer.”
“Will she mind you ditching her for our date?”
“Nah.”
Jabari grins. “The first game is Friday, so the team leaves tomorrow. Do you want to do dinner tomorrow night or after the game?”
“Do y’all have a late game?”
“No. We’re playing at four.”
That works. “How about after the game?”
“It’s a date.”
Butterflies swoop into my stomach at his pronouncement. And they’re not the kind that make you reach for Tums, but the onesthat make you want to run immediately to your closet and find the perfect outfit.
As soon as Fran gets home, I’m asking her to peruse my clothing. Surely there’s something suitable for a trip to New York and a date with a hockey player.
Guess Raimo was right after all.
27
Jabari
I follow the hostess to meet the potential Warriors donor, nerves pinging through me faster than watching a pickleball tournament. My agent, Rick, published my statement to all interested parties earlier in the day, and I also posted it to my socials. Now it’s a waiting game to see everyone’s reactions, though I intentionally left the statement open-ended regarding my future with the Warriors, and I only said that my vision had been affected, without going into all the details.
Though that’s not what has me on edge.
For some reason, this meeting feels like my future hinges on the outcome. Mentally, I know it’s not true, but physically, my body believes otherwise. It’s responding like it would before an important game. I need a clear head now, but as soon as this appointment is over, I’ll be focusing on what I really want—Val Elliott and our date after tomorrow’s game.
I smooth my tie down as the hostess stops before a table. Someone stands, and I jut out my hand in hopes they’ll do the rest of the work.
“Jabari Hall,” I say smoothly.
We shake hands. “Tim Hunter with LN Industries.”
“Thank you for meeting with me today, Tim.” I slide into my chair.
You can do this. Think of theinteraction like a game-day interview,or any interview forthat matter. Tell him what he wants to know,butin a way that makes everything more personable.No matter how private I actually am.
“No, no. The pleasure is all mine. I’ve been a huge fan of the Warriors for years. I have to admit, you’re my favorite player.” Tim clears his throat. “Sorry to hear about the eyesight.”
“Thanks.” My neck heats. “The Warriors have been supportive through this whole ordeal.” I point to the yellow-tinted glasses the eye doctor provided me.
The Warriors could’ve forced me to retire mid-season. They could’ve prevented me from going to the games. But considering the head staff is all about promoting camaraderie throughout the organization, giving me another opportunity within the organization aligns with their mission. I’m thankful they care.
“That’s great to hear. I’m not interested in donating to an organization that doesn’t know how to take care of their players.”
“Then you’ve found the right team. They made sure to get the best of the best to help me with my medical issues. And they don’t stop until they get a good answer.”
“Have they?”
Oops. Why did I open a door I have no desire to walk through? “Actually they didn’t, but that’s more my issue than theirs.” I resist the urge to clear my throat. This isn’t the time to get choked up.
“Are you moving to the business side permanently?” Tim asks.
