Jackie’s smile grows wider. “Congratulations. You must be something special if you caught Frisk’s eye.” She turns back to Troy. “You know I wouldn’t waste your time unless I had someone special, too.”
Troy turns to Amina. “You’re the kind of setter that needs a five-one formation,” he says, revealing that he knows more about her than I had assumed. “Why don’t your coaches know that?”
She half-smiles. “Good question.”
“We’ll talk,” Troy grumbles, and hands off a card before turning back to us.
The women walk away without another word. When I glance around, I see that more than a few other patrons of the Maple Club have watched the interaction, and I get a new appreciation for Troy’s reputation and knowledge of sports.
“What was that about?” I ask.
“Work,” he says simply. I expect that I’m about to get some good sports gossip, but everyone in the place starts either cheering or groaning. All eyes are on one of the screens, and I watch as a basketball sinks into the hoop.
Troy pounds the table. “That’s right.” His face sets with determination, and I catch myself distracted by the shift in his features, his strength hardening, but some joy in his eyes, too.
It looks good on him.
He’s still got the same creases around his eyes, I realize, as when he’s frowning. I don’t know why, but I like that, and the warmth in my chest catches me off-guard.
Troy turns back to us. “The agency provides you each a membership here,” he says. “And many other services. The point, however, is to always serve your careers, not your social life. We come here because we want you working with the best trainers, served by the best specialists, competing with the best equipment. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
I gather up my confidence as Kevyn nods. “Yes,” I say clearly. “I understand.”
My eyes linger on the back of his arms again, and my dick gets half-hard when I remember what we’ve done together, how his hands guided my head while he face-fucked me.
He’s such a force in the sports world, but this secret is only ours.
An older man walks over, the head of some baseball umpire association, and he and Troy quickly turn to talking sports. Kevyn and I both get a couple generic sentences out, “Yeah, great team,” and “One of the best pitchers around.” Troy nods seriously, brow tightening, as the other guy shares some observations about batting dynamics the last couple of seasons.
I realize I’m tense, just barely arching my back as I push my ass down in the seat.
“Come,” Troy says when the man leaves. “Top floor of the building. There’s a cigar bar. I’ll show you now.”
Kevyn ducks into the bathroom by the small side elevator and tells us that he’ll meet us upstairs. I realize that leaves Troy and me alone, and my heart pounds as we wait for the elevator to arrive.
He doesn’t say anything. I drag my eyes all over him, reading him for any sign of what he’s thinking. By the time we’re inside the elevator, just us, I feel like I’m going to explode.
The door clicks shut. He keeps his eyes straight forward.
I could just take his advice from earlier and keep my mouth shut, but this might be my chance. Who knows when we’ll next be alone again, so if I’m going to say something and clarify that I’m not a cheater, it’s now.
“Thank you for the business advice,” I say, turning to face him head-on. “And sorry if I made a bad first impression.” I cock up half a smile. “The very first impression, I mean. I promise, I’ll be a responsible client for you, not a problem.”
There. Taking control of the situation.
I open my mouth to explain about Stace, but Troy’s head turns to the side. His eyes bore into me, and he growls out his words first.
“You,” he says, his voice rumbling, “have a girlfriend.”
Surprised by his sudden anger, I take a second to respond. “Troy, I—”
“Worst is that you’ve betrayed her. But you risk your reputation, the reputation of your team, everything when you cheat so brazenly,” he says, his eyes squinted and his teeth grinding while he growls out his words. “Bad enough you pull me into your dishonest game, but the way you did it. Careless. Crude. Flaunt—”
Those last words sting, and I lash back. “Excuse me, assume much?” I blurt out.
His nostrils flare. “What am I supposed to assume, considering the way we met?”
Now that pisses me off. I really need to shut up, but it’s like my brain is on fire.
