As I walk down the corridor toward the offices at the rear of the stadium, one eye is out for Orlando. I’m aware he’s here. I could swear I can feel his presence. And as much as I want to see him, I’m not quite sure how we’d react to each other right now.
Maybe encountering me would throw him. The thought troubles me for a lot of reasons.
The locker room on a big game day isn’t the private sanctuary players would like it to be. There’s a closed-off area for the team, but the space is filled with workers, everyone rushing around.
Orlando hasn’t contacted me since his team’s retreat ended, so I haven’t reached out to him, either, knowing an intrusion could shake his game. I know the agency has been in touch about his media commitments. If I do see him here, we’ll likely barely talk.
He’s going to be amazing. He’s done the work to get there. I just hope he remembers that.
I spot Zeke. He’s off to the side, talking to one of the coaches. When he finishes, I step in.
“Captain.”
Zeke nods. He’s in his uniform, and the fire in his eyes tells me he’s ready to get on the field.
“I need my schedule cleared tonight. After we win, I want to do the bare minimum of press. Meet the team’s commitments and get out of here.”
“Your call,” I tell him.
He hesitates. “Heard you’ll have some news for me.”
I straighten my spine. Just like with Orlando, I need to be careful not, ensure I don’t upset his game.
“I talked to Marshall this morning,” he says, showing that he already knows. “I’m surprised.”
There goes being careful.
“I should have gotten ahead of this sooner,” I admit. “But yes. I’m seeing a client, and everything is under control.”
Zeke nods, eyeing me. “I don’t like it,” he says. “Looks bad for everyone. But I’ve been thinking about you, Troy.”
I swallow. “That right?”
“You’ve been essential for my career,” he says. “More than anyone probably realizes. And I’ve seen the impact you’ve had on Onassis and Madrigal. It’s significant.”
I grunt, not sure how to respond to that.
Zeke clasps my shoulder. “You’ve earned some goodwill. I won’t hold this against you.”
“Thank you,” I say, but I’m aware he doesn’t know the full story. “And we’re happy to work with those two.” I catch his eye. “I’ve passed Onassis on to a junior agent,” I tell him, trying to get even a little ahead of the truth, “but I’m keeping Madrigal on my core client list.”
He nods, his attention drifting out over the locker room again.
“Kick ass out there,” I tell him. “The game is yours to win.”
“Damn right. And here’s Onassis,” he says, gives my shoulder another squeeze, and walks away.
I turn to see Orlando. He’s in his uniform, only a few feet away from me, and the world freezes.
* * *
ORLANDO
I walk directly over to Troy.
I told myself that I was putting this out of mind until after the game. Realizing that I messed up scared me. Troy really has seen all my rough edges. He’s seen my messy apartment, my outbursts, my sometimes questionable thinking.
What if I’m too much? What if he doesn’t want me after all?
