Mel’s eyebrows perk up. “Oh. And he was a stranger?”
I nod.
“Gotta say, I’m kind of impressed.”
My jaw grinds. “I’m glad you find this entertaining.”
Mel leans back in her chair. “Is it sexual tension? Is that what everyone in the office is noticing?”
“No,” I bark out, defensive. “He’s a client. I’ll never touch him again.” The words feel strange and twisted on my lips, and I nearly trip over them as something lurches inside me.
“You’ve discussed this with him?”
I shake my head. “Hell no. We had some tense words in the elevator of the Maple Club, but mainly just to clarify he’s not cheating on his girlfriend. Outside of that, we’ve only talked business. And it better stay that way.”
Mel looks exasperated with me.
“What?”
“You had sex with him, failed to talk about it, and stomped around barking at him and intimidating him like he’s any other hotshot?” She lets out a deep sigh. “Troy. Fix it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Fix it!” she repeats. “Tell him explicitly and clearly that nothing else is going to happen between you and that you will have a professional relationship from now on. And then treat him like a normal client. I’ll take over responsibility for his career from here on out, but you can’t refuse to do your part. If we represent him, he deserves the same thing as every other athlete we serve.”
I can’t believe this is where she’s taken my confession. “Any other client, we’d still have a PR crisis on our hands from random sex in bar bathrooms.”
Mel’s eyes widen. “A bar bathroom. Troy. Truly shocking.” Her expression softens again. “You’re handling this okay, though?” she asks.
I huff. “Yes. I’m fine.”
“Act all you want like this isn’t a big deal, but it would be reasonable for you to have an emotional reaction. Or to question some things, consider new possibilities in your life, revisit old emotions...”
Another defensive twitch goes through me. “I’m not having an emotional reaction.”
Mel looks skeptical.
“I’ll handle it. It’s fine.”
“Well, if you’re sure you’re fine, then I’d love to belabor the fact that you slept with someone so much younger than you.”
My nostrils flare. “It was one time.”
“Says the guy who asked me if I was having a midlife crisis when I slept with a man ten years younger than I am, which is...” She pauses and counts on her fingers. “Five years less than the distance between you and Orlando. Is this your midlife crisis, Troy? Are you going to buy a boat now?”
My phone buzzes, thankfully interrupting her. When I glance, I see that Orlando is here for our meeting.
Not exactly the save I wanted.
“I should buy a damn boat and sail out of here,” I tell her and huff out of the room as she laughs.
I make my way back across the office slowly, steeling myself to talk to Orlando directly about our situation, because I know that Mel is right.
Need to clear the air.
Purely professional.
It’s smart to say it, make it explicit that nothing will happen again, although it should be obvious.
