Page 17 of Hard to Love

“She’s not acting out because of me, son. She’s acting out because even though Liam Lancaster was a demanding, unforgiving coach and manager, he was also her father and she doesn’t know how to process his death.”

“You’re not a psychologist. You can’t fix someone who doesn’t want to be fixed. So I’ll say it again, why not fire her as a client and be done with her?”

“I promised her dad I’d take care of her just like I once did the same for you.”

And there it is: the guilt trip, the unspoken IOU. The man who mentored me in my career—in my life—is asking for a favor.

But when he meets my eyes, all thoughts have stopped dead in their tracks. I’ve known Carson for a decade and have seen that look on his face only a handful of times. Most memorable was when he was looking at me the first time we met.

A look that says for some reason the person has touched him and this salty, old bastard will move heaven and hell to help them.

And I know before this conversation carries on any further that I’m going to say yes. Damn it to hell.

But where would I be without that look? Who the hell knows, but it definitely wouldn’t be here—one of the top sports management agents in the game.

I force a swallow over the fact I haven’t accepted yet and nod in a silent acknowledgment of all he’s done for me.

“You say she’s livid with you, Carson, then why hasn’t she fired you?”

“Because she’s never really had to make those kinds of decisions for herself. Her job was to play and his job was everything else. I’m here because, thank God, she trusts her dad’s judgment even now that he’s gone.”

I rise from the seat and shove my hands in my pockets as I take in the strip again. People mill about here and there while the pool on the rooftop of one of the hotels within eyesight is teeming with bikini-clad women.

I wonder if Scarlett is down there, coming onto the next man she sets her sights on. It’s easier to think about her and the what-could-have-beens than to admit to myself I’m being roped into this.

Shaking the thought from my head, I turn back to Carson. Better to just get it all out on the table. “What are your main concerns?”

“She’s one of the most gifted tennis players I’ve ever seen, Finn, but she’s drowning.”

“Drowning?” I ask even though I’ve seen the pictures. The drinking. The acting out. The sudden about-face. “Or sowing her wild oats because she’s been restricted for so long?”

“Perhaps a bit of both. What’s important is that while she’s refusing to accept her father’s death, she’s also taking wide liberties with her ‘grieving’ to the point that she’s possibly ruining her career.”

“But why you? Why do you care so much what happens to her when you pass taking in new clients daily?” I ask but then cringe the moment the words are out. I already know why, and I’m so preoccupied with Scarlett and feeling like my arm is being twisted that I didn’t stop to think before I spoke.

His wince shows me I’m right.

“Because something about her reminds me of my Sadie.” His voice is soft, his eyes solemn, as he recalls his daughter who passed away in her teenage years. “And as a father, I understand Liam Lancaster and his reasoning behind all he did.”

I nod and ask again. “Carson, why am I here?”

“Because you’re good at controlling the out-of-control,” Carson states. “And Stevie is out of control.”

“So, what? You’re going to hand her over to me for representation? Sure, I can ink some new endorsement deals for her when and if she decides to chill out.” And earn a pretty penny in commission off the out-of-control princess while I’m at it. “Not a problem.”

“I need a little more than that.”

“A little more than that? What exactly does that mean?”

“Stevie’s burned some bridges in the past few months. She’s skipped appearances, ditched some charity tournaments, even no-showed filming a Nike commercial. Twice.”

“And?” I cross my arms over my chest.

“She’s pissed off a lot of people. People she shouldn’t have pissed off, including the head of the US Tennis Association.”

“Go on,” I say.

“After her exhibition on Friday, I’ve set up a few goodwill events to attend over the coming weeks. In the old days we’d call it a bus tour, but you kids these days all take those private jets so . . .” He waves a hand away as if it’s something he doesn’t quite understand. “She comes from a generation I don’t understand.”