Page 58 of Hard to Score

“So then you’re saying you don’t want to sign me?”

“No, I’m saying that no one client is worth risking my reputation. Once word got out, team management would shy away from me, other agents would think I’m always out to steal their clients, and other athletes would question my integrity. You’re good, Hobbs, and would be a great addition to KSM, but not with that being the cost.”

Justin blows out a steady breath and shakes his head, no doubt stumped why I’m not bending over backward for him like I’m certain he expected I would.

An awkward silence settles between us as the server clears our plates, and while I try to figure out how to salvage this business meeting. When she leaves with dishes stacked on her forearm, I ask, “Why California? As an agent, I have to tell you that your strengths are best suited to teams like the Raptors over the Chargers, Rams, or even the 49ers.”

“I’ve got my reasons,” he says as our eyes hold. I don’t back down from the stare. He needs to know I’m not intimidated by him in the least.

But while he’s being stubborn, I’m sitting here doing mental gymnastics over the epiphany I just had.

Getting Justin to California opens up the starting QB spot that Drew could easily step into. That would create the opportunity he’s been waiting for. It would finally give him a chance.

And while that scenario is as perfect as perfect can be, it doesn’t address how I could ethically make it happen.

It’s a line I can’t cross.

But I decide to play Justin’s game, to feel him out, and see if there is a legitimate interest in my representation or if he truly is playing me. “So say, perhaps, I could pull this off and get you traded, how do I know you’re not bullshitting me? How do I know that I’m not going to be doing all this work, get things lined up for you, and then you’ll turn around and have Finn take my work and own it as his own?” I ask as his eyes widen. “I mean, I’d be the one working without a contract. All I have is your word that you’d actually sign with me.”

“Are you saying you don’t trust me?”

I lean onto my elbows on the table and lower my voice. “I’ve dealt with a lot of players over the years. While I may be out chasing after and for you, you’re only out for yourself. That makes it pretty damn easy for doubt to fester.”

Justin takes a long sip of his beer and then leans back in his chair, lips pursed for a moment. “Then how do we get around this, Kincade?”

“Why did you call me, Justin? What made you pick up the phone?”

“I was told you were one of the best.”

My eyebrows raise. Not because he’s speaking of me, but that feels like the most honest thing he’s said all night. “By whom?”

“Drew Bowman.” I measure my reaction to his words. “Shit, the way that fucker defends you, you’d think he has a thing for you.”

“That’s ridiculous.” I bark the words out.

“Stranger things have happened. Just don’t tell your boyfriend or he might get jealous of all this extra attention.” He winks.

“My boyfriend?”

“Yeah. Drew said you had a man already and that I couldn’t poach.”

I nod, confused and amused. Poach? “I’m flattered, Justin, but one, you are way too young for me”—I laugh quietly to soften the blow—“and two, I never date clients or potential clients. It’s not a line I cross.”

“All lines get crossed at some point.” He chuckles. “Just like the one you’ll figure out how to cross to get me traded.”

“It’s not the same. It’s—”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

I emit a resigned sigh as my mind races over a conversation I’d love to have been a fly on the wall for and a trade I can’t technically negotiate.

“I’m sure I will,” I murmur.

“Los Angeles, Brexton.” And it’s the last thing he says before he balls his napkin up and tosses it on the table before excusing himself and walking away.

My sigh follows soon after.

He’s already proving to be difficult and he’s not even my client yet.