by Julia Blake
“Nick—” Erica started, but he cut her off with a shake of his head.
“It’s better this way,” he said. “I did things here I’m not proud of.”
“What do you mean?” asked Mindy, a touch defensive.
He put the bag down and turned to face his friends. “I mean that I let the story get personal, and then I chose the story over Rachel.”
Mindy opened her mouth as though she was going to say something but then shut it quickly when Erica shot her a look.
“I want her back, but I don’t know how to get her,” he said. Just saying it out loud made his shoulders drop a little bit. And so he ventured out again, saying the thing that scared him the most. “I love her.”
“You love her?” Mindy asked, a little taken aback. “But she’s an agent.”
He looked at the baffled expression on his producer’s face and sighed. Mindy was never going to understand. That much was clear. But Mindy wasn’t the one who mattered in this scenario. No one did but Rachel.
“She’s the one,” he said.
“So what are you going to do?” Erica asked.
“Not a fucking clue. She won’t see me. I’ve tried texting and calling. Nothing.”
“You interview Kevin again,” said Mindy quietly.
He and Erica both stared at her. Mindy shifted from foot to foot as though saying the words made her uncomfortable—which they probably did, since Nick knew she didn’t like admitting she was wrong. Ever.
“Ask Kevin to do another interview,” Mindy continued with a shrug. “Get him to go through step-by-step what his treatment has been like, how he feels about this whole story breaking. You do something that humanizes him to people and builds his popularity.”
It was a good idea. A very good one. It’d help Kevin—something Nick was more than happy to do, since the kid hadn’t asked to be hit with panic attacks—and it would show Rachel how seriously he took her work. Even more important, it felt like the right thing to do. He could get Kevin’s story out there in a way that would show people how good a kid he was.
But there was one huge problem.
“I just got laid off,” he said. “Even if I did this, I can’t get it on air.”
Mindy’s lips pursed, but then she said, “Not here at NYSN, but I have a friend who can help. He’s an editor at that website Behind the Highlights.”
The idea began to grow. This could happen. If he could get Kevin to agree to speak to him, he could make things right.
“Why are you doing this?” he asked Mindy. “You wanted to air the story so badly.”
She straightened and held her chin a little higher. “Just because I can see what we should do professionally in black-and-white doesn’t mean I’m heartless. I didn’t like destroying Kevin’s career before he even got a chance to start any more than you did.” She paused. “Plus I like Rachel. Even if she has terrible taste in men.”
He gave a little laugh. “That’s probably the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
She scowled. “Don’t get used to it, but if you need some help on the sly framing the interview questions, give me a call.”
Erica stood and offered him a smile. “Try not to screw it up a third time.”
“Thanks, Rodriguez. I won’t.”
He slung his bag over his shoulder, looked around his cubicle for the last time, and headed for the door. He had a lot to atone for. He just hoped it would be enough.
Chapter 22
You want this kid, Charlie,” Rachel told one of her oldest contacts in the NFL. “What do I have to do to convince you Kevin’s healthy?”
She wasn’t begging, but with five days to go before the draft, she was getting ready to stoop that low.
“My hands are tied,” said the scout. “The owner’s been burned too many times before.”
It was a struggle not to throw the phone across her office. She wanted to—oh, did she want to—but if she destroyed phones every time a team rep made her angry, Nathan would have to start stocking them in bulk. Plus, she had to stay cordial with the scouts because right now she needed them a hell of a lot more than they needed her.
“Kevin’s never had a disciplinary issue in his life. Ask anyone at Syracuse. He was the first to practice and the last to leave for four years,” she said.
“Look, I saw the story. I saw the footage of Loder’s attack. You can’t tell me that isn’t bad.”
She stifled a sigh. This was her fourth call today. Each had gone exactly the same way. The scouts were running scared.
“Are you saying you don’t have a single player on your entire roster who’s suffered from anxiety or had a panic attack?” she asked.
He was silent a moment. He knew just as well as she did that statistically there was no way it could be true. But still, Charlie wasn’t budging.
“Look, all I can tell you is we’re likely going to pass during the draft,” he said.
Somehow Kevin had gone from a late-first-round draft pick to no one. Before the story aired, the very thought would have been inconceivable. Now, despite the heavy PR campaign Emma was embarking on, it looked like they were going to have to move into their deep backup plan: undrafted free agent status.
“We’ve got our eyes on a Super Bowl, Rachel,” he continued. “Maybe a few years down the line when he’s vetted somewhere else, we’d consider signing him. It’s hard to see that far in the future.”
Their goodbye was curt, but Rachel waited until after Charlie hung up to drop her cell phone on the desk.
“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Nathan!” she yelled.
The young man shot through the door. She’d been working him hard, and she could see the exhaustion around his eyes.
“Get me San Diego’s front office. I was at Neil’s daughter’s wedding. If that doesn’t get me a favor, I don’t know what will.”
If only it were that easy.
The past weeks were an exercise in patience. She’d been yelled at, cussed out, even threatened. Then there was the little matter of her boss. Rob was worse than ever. Normally he’d give her free rein to manage her own client list. Now he wasn’t just on top of her about Kevin—he wanted to see every piece of paper that crossed her desk or email that hit her inbox. It was all meant to humiliate her.
Five days. That’s all she had to survive before breaking with Image. She just had to make it through the draft, even if it felt eons away.
Nick could make this better.
The thought slipped through her mind before she could quash it. She should hate him—loathe him, even—and yet she couldn’t because she knew that if she were in his shoes, she’d have done exactly the same thing. It’s what made them so good at their jobs, but it also meant making a choice. Ultimately, Nick hadn’t picked her.
It was time to move on. She’d done it before, and she could do it again. Nick Ruben was part of her past, and, judging by his silence after his hallway apology, that was where he should stay.
But despite her best efforts, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. Without meaning to, she tucked away little stories to tell him at night. A dozen times a day she picked up the phone to call him before the sharp, painful reminder that it was over rushed back to her. He’d become a part of her life. Now she had to figure out how to cut him out of it again.
She tilted her head back to keep tears from spilling over. Agents do not cry in their offices—even when the blinds are closed.
Her desk phone rang. She picked it up, but instead of Neil from San Diego, it was Nathan. “Dan Hall from the Los Angeles Breakers is on the phone for you.”
She frowned. The team hadn’t shown any real interest in Kevin before, so why was Dan calling now? “Put him through, please.” The phone call transferred with a soft click. “This is Rachel Pollard.”
“Rachel,” said the scout. “I imagine you’re h
aving a bit of a tough time out there in New York.”
That was an understatement. Still wary but curious, she said, “I’ve had easier months.”
“I’m sure you have. Look, I know it’s late in the game, but I wanted to talk to you about this Loder kid.”
She sat up so quickly, her desk chair nearly gave her whiplash. Dan’s tone didn’t sound hostile. In fact, it was positively jovial. That had to be a good sign. Maybe? For the first time in years, she wasn’t sure of her job anymore. Wasn’t sure when she could start hoping.
“Ask anything, Dan. Kevin’s told me I’m allowed to be an open book.”
“I might be showing my hand here, but he’s got talent,” he said. “Any idiot can see that. I suspect under the right receivers coach he could develop into a superstar.”
Excitement began to tingle in her stomach. It was exactly the way she felt when she got a brand-new, totally untouched player’s contract—all possibility and promise. “I agree.”
“I also know the anxiety stuff has people running scared,” said Dan.
She tapped her index finger on her desk, waiting for the man to reveal his hand.
“Can he be ready to play next year?” he asked.
Her finger froze. Gotcha.
“Not only will he be ready, I guarantee he’ll work harder than anyone else to make a fifty-three-man roster,” she said. “You would’ve gotten that even before the anxiety stuff came out.”
“Most of the time agents tell me that I call bullshit, but I went to college with his strength coach.”
This was good, but Rachel still felt as though she was standing on a tightrope, wobbling from side to side.
“And the panic attacks?” Dan asked. “Have they ever happened on the field or in practice?”
“No”—her tone got a little sharp—“and anyone who says they have is lying to your face.”
“I have to ask,” Dan said with a laugh. “All that crap really doesn’t matter to me.”
Her shoulders dropped a half an inch. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“I’ll level with you. I get anxiety attacks every once in a while. Who doesn’t in the NFL? I’m lucky it’s not severe. I went to a doctor, learned how to cope with it.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that.”
That earned her another bark of laughter. “I’m sure you are. The kid having a panic attack when talking about being shot doesn’t mean he can’t play.”
“He can play,” she reassured him as Emma stepped into her office. Rachel mouthed “scout.” Her friend dropped onto the couch to wait for the call to end.
“I actually saw Kevin at the Combine,” Dan said. “I can’t promise that high draft pick you guys were hoping for, but I can tell you he’d fit nicely into the offense here. Between you and me, we’re weaker on wideout than any other team in the division.”
She shot a significant look at Emma. “Where do you see him going in the draft?”
A slow, smug grin spread across her friend’s face.
“Maybe the sixth round. I’m going to guess that some of the teams that are running scared right now will get their heads out of their asses by draft day, especially because you’re probably going to get off the phone and start telling everyone that someone’s interested in drafting Loder. I’ll bet his draft stock jumps in the next few days.”
“You can’t blame a woman for doing her job,” she said with a smile.
“Nope. And from what I hear, you do it well. Rishi Everett speaks highly of you. I wasn’t here when he was drafted.”
“Rishi’s a good client. Great left tackle too.”
“So, you do what you do, we’ll do what we do, and we’ll see where we end up during the draft,” said Dan.
“Sounds good to me. It was a pleasure speaking to you.”
The man laughed. “I’m sure I just about made your day.”
“Not too far off. Take care.”
She gently set the phone down in its cradle, and Emma let out a whoop. “Yes!”
Rachel laughed. “Don’t celebrate yet. Nothing’s set in stone—”
“Until the name’s called on draft day. I know. I haven’t forgotten your lessons from when I was an assistant, wise one.”
“I thought you were getting rusty.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Please.”
“So what’s up?”
Emma picked at the hem of her skirt. “I’m just wondering how you’re doing. You’ve been working a lot.”
“I always work a lot,” she said, keeping her voice as neutral as possible even though she knew without a doubt Emma was talking about Nick. Rachel had put on the “everything’s okay” mask and she wasn’t going to take it off until everything was, in fact, okay.
“You’re sending emails at three a.m. I barely see you leave this chair. You’re burying yourself here,” Emma said.
“I’m just doing my job.”
“You’re trying to forget about Nick, and it’s not working, so you’re hiding. It’s okay to be hurting.”
Except Rachel’s heart didn’t ache the way people told her it should. Instead, she felt nothing—a total absence of feeling right where her heart should be. It was so much worse than the sharp pangs of unrequited love she’d felt as a teenager because then at least she’d felt vital. For the last two weeks, it had been like walking around with only a shell of herself. Nick had become a part of her, and now she was incomplete.
“It’s never going to work, Em. I’m sure he’s moved on already and found someone else. That’s how he operates.”
“No.” Emma’s voice was sharp. It was the tone she’d seen her friend use on irreverent athletes who needed to be put in line, but she’d never been on the receiving end of it. It was a little scary.
“Excuse me?”
“You don’t get to throw this all away because he did one thing to piss you off. Even if that thing was big.”
Her immediate reaction was to throw up her defenses and argue back, but something stopped her. Maybe Emma had a point. She’d made fast judgments about Nick before, then she’d finally given him a chance and he’d wowed her until she couldn’t help but love him.
She loved him.
Shit.
“He said some really stupid things and you think that means he doesn’t respect you, but I think he does. He didn’t pull punches. He put the piece on air like you were any other agent. He’s a pro, just like you,” Emma said.
“And you think that’s enough?” she asked quietly.
“I think that’s a start. All of us are overworked, type A people who love the hell out of what we do. If you’d compromised his integrity, you’d feel like shit.”
She shook her head. “I feel like shit anyway.”
“I didn’t say it was perfect, but at least you aren’t with a man you don’t respect. One who won’t stand up for what he believes in. Won’t stand up to you.”
Every single thing her friend said was true, but that still didn’t change one important fact.
“He’s gone,” she said.
Her friend eyed her. “And you’re telling me that he hasn’t tried to call or text or skywrite his apology?”
“No skywriting.”
“But he’s tried to reach out?” Emma asked.
Every single day. A few times a day. She had unopened texts clogging up her messages and she’d started sending his emails straight to their own folder so she didn’t have to look at them as they piled up.
“I don’t know if I can do it.” Her voice came out small and meek, so unlike her. And yet maybe this was the very truth of her, the part that she kept swathed in layers so no one could see it. “I opened up to him and it blew up. Why would I want to give him a chance to do it again?”
“Ask yourself whether the reward is worth the risk. From what you’v
e told me, it sounds like it is,” Emma said with her sweetest smile.
Uncontrollable tears started leaking from the corners of her eyes. “Oh, damn. Close it,” she said waving a hand at the open office door.
As soon as it was shut, she let the tears roll.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you cry before,” said Emma. “I’ll let you know if your mascara runs.”
She sniffled, trying to get herself under control again. “Thanks.”
“It’s what friends do.”
Rachel snatched up a tissue and dabbed at the corners of her eyes, careful not to disturb her makeup. “So, speaking of risks, I wanted to talk to you about something. I wasn’t going to do it here, but you’re right. I’ve been working too hard and I don’t see it letting up until after the draft.”
“What’s up?” Emma asked.
She took a deep breath. “I’m quitting right after the draft. I’m starting my own agency. It’s a risk, but I thought if you were looking for a new opportunity—”
“Yes,” said Emma without hesitation. “Hell yes.”
“Really? Because I don’t know when I’ll be able to pay you,” she said.
“If you don’t take a paycheck, I don’t take a paycheck. I’ve got some savings. What are they there for if not supporting your friends when they want to blow everything up?”
And just like that, Rachel had her first employee.
“We might be working out of my apartment while I figure out who on both of our client lists will follow us over.”
All that got her was a shrug. “I like your living room. You’ve got a comfy couch. And throw pillows.”
“Okay then.”
Emma’s face became serious for one moment. “I do have one condition.”
“What is it?”
“I want you to bring Louise on. Give her a few clients. Let her grow with a lot of supervision. Rob’s never going to take a chance on her here.”
And because taking risks meant sometimes relying on the judgment of others, Rachel nodded. “She was going to be the next person I talked to. Let’s all get dinner and hash this out.”
Emma rubbed her hands together. “This is going to be so good. I can feel it.”