She wouldn’t think so, but I would make it my job to convince her.
Chapter Two
Lauren
* * *
My phone lit up with the name I’d been waiting on for over twelve hours.
“Wilson! Where the hell are you?”
“Fishing in Montana.”
Rather him than me. “Caught anything?”
“Just a case of the grumps. The brass told me they won’t come up on the salary.”
Christ on a Zamboni. “You’re not supposed to talk to them without me, Danny. That’s my job.”
“Yeah, well, about that …” Next came one of those dreaded conversational voids. I jumped into the breach.
“Listen, who got you a half mil more per year on your last contract? Who snagged that sportswear deal when Under Armour was looking at five other players?”
“Sure, but?—”
“And who played a round of golf with the commissioner—and let the asshole win—to get that three-game suspension knocked down to two? I’ve been on your side since the beginning.”
He sighed. “Lauren, you’ve been great. Really. But without the backing of TMG, I’m not sure you can take me to the next level.”
You’re already at the next level! I put you there!
Leaving the Mallinson Group and going solo with my boutique—and we always called it “boutique”—sports talent agency was one of the riskiest things I had ever done. And I had once slid into the net during a push for goal and got a skate to my left cheek for my trouble (no scar, thankfully). It was weird to think that my agent days were even more terrifying than my player ones, but back then, I knew where I stood. I ran on instinct, Gatorade, and negative reinforcement.
Now, I had to depend on my personality, such as it was, and my ability to persuade professional athletes I was the only person who could get them that deal. Of course, the fact that the Chicago Rebels had recently won the Cup was supposed to be the ace up my sleeve. I represented three of their players and was lately inundated with requests for meetings.
Rather than scream all this at Wilson, I fought my way back to calm. “I have a lot of leverage these days. Sponsors are blowing up my phone because of the Rebels.”
“And you’re going to be working to get those players deals. Sounds like a conflict of interest.”
“There’s enough to go around for everyone, Danny. I have a call into Jerry at the Cougars this afternoon, where I will be impressing upon him the need to shore up your contract and ensure you aren’t left hanging. You need to trust me.”
“I’ve already spoken to Kit.” My old boss at TMG, who was likely laughing his head off. I would never forget his reaction when I said I was leaving: Sorry, Lo, but the clients don’t trust women agents to get the top deals. “I’m going to sign with him.”
I gripped the phone tight enough to crush it—or my bones. Hard to say which was more likely to be dust first.
“Can you let me talk to the Cougars before you make any drastic decisions? If I can’t get you the deal, then you’re free to cut me loose.”
“I’ll have my lawyer send over the official notice of severance, Lauren. I really appreciate everything you’ve done, but I need to move on.” He hung up.
Fuck.
I had known it would be tricky striking out on my own. Leaving a large agency like Mallinson with all the benefits that entailed meant that some clients got jitters, worried I couldn’t attend to their needs without the backing of a big dog. Three of my football players had defected back to TMG, while one of my hockey guys had told me flat out that he wasn’t sure I could do it without a man holding my hand. I wouldn’t miss him. And now Danny Wilson, a mid-career forward with the Boston Cougars, had fired me.
The Chicago Rebels winning the Cup should have been a huge boon, not just to the Rebels players I represented, but also to my fledgling outfit. Winners attracted winners like metal to magnet, so I was hoping to see the halo effect in the months ahead. But apparently it wasn’t happening quickly enough for a player like Danny.
I needed to stanch the bleed—and soon.
“So, tell me everything.”
