I’m frustrated as conflicting desires move through me. “Can we not hash it out right now, please? That just happened with Orlando. Why are you here?”
“Because you never pick up your damn phone when you’re in the gym,” she says, “and I have urgent business news.”
That clears my head. “Oh?” I bend and pick up a dumbbell, needing to do something with my hands. “Good or bad?”
“Exquisite,” she answers. “As you know, our client list showcases the very best of our hometown talent. We represent Zeke as well as our lovely city’s hockey great, not to mention the Philly Sensation herself, the second highest scorer in the history of women’s basketball.”
I nod. “And your point?”
“Football and baseball want to take a meeting with us.”
I lower the dumbbell. “Excuse me?"
“Patel and Marshall. As you know, they’re both with the big guy,” she says, referring to the mega agency in New York. “But I just learned they’re also both unhappy with their representation. The two got to talking at some event, commiserated, and, long story short, they’re interested in what we have to offer.”
“Huh.”
“That’s all you’ve got? I’m talking about signing the greatest baseball player and football player in Philly, solidifying our prominence. And you’re, like,huh. Are you sex-brained, Troy?”
I scowl. “No,” I say, and my gears start turning, cautious excitement rising up. “It’s good.”
Marshall is having an amazing career pitching. We weren’t on the team together, but I’ve followed his every game like a hawk. Of course I want to represent him and work with the old team again. It’s been disappointing these past couple of years to not have a client on the roster.
Marshall and Patel together? That would be huge. It would define the agency and ensure I leave a significant legacy to the athletes who trust me with their careers.
“This sounds lucrative,” I say.
Mel grins. “Understatement of the year.”
Suddenly, I feel hungry.
Alive.
“Baseball and football,” I say. “They want to take a meeting?”
Mel smiles, seeing that I’ve caught up. “We’ll work out the details.” She glances at her phone. “On that note, I’ve got a busy day. Let’s follow up at the office tomorrow.” She frowns at me. “And seriously, Troy. Get it the fuck together. You’ve got cum all over your beard.”
Mel turns and lets herself out, and I sit on the bench, my breath still heavy. I spit in my hand and rub my beard, trying to process everything that happened.
I wouldn’t be ashamed of what I did with Orlando, except for the fact that he’s a client. Mel would never tell a soul, but that doesn’t mean I was planning to turn around and confess about this encounter to her like I did after our first.
This was a mistake, even if it was a thrill.
And with the profile of the agency rising again, I can’t help but think about the reality of the situation. If the rest of the sports world found out that I acted a fool over a cocky young striker, they’d stop taking me seriously. I could undo everything I built, just like that.
Orlando’s busy in his season, and now that Mel has settled him in as a client, any contract negotiations or similar work are in the future. It will be easy enough for me to avoid time with him alone, which is exactly what I need to do. I’ll send him a short, professional text to let him know everything is in good order, and that will be the end of it.
It’s time to get back to work.
CHAPTERELEVEN
ORLANDO
It’s been a few weeks since the foot-and-blowjob in Troy’s gym, and unsurprisingly, I haven’t heard anything from him except for an awkwardly formal text the day after.
I’ll hand it to him, though, I kind of expected total silence. Instead, I got at least an attempt at communication.
Rooting for you these next games, Orlando. All good here. Will reach out if agency needs anything.
