Rookie Mistake

by Tracey Ward

  “The school,” she blurts out angrily. “He got it from the school.”

  I close my eyes, shaking my head slowly. This is where I was leading her, this is what I wanted, but I’m disappointed in her for following me. Some small part of me had hoped she was smarter than that.

  When I open my eyes, I reach out to stop the recording. I’m surprised to see that I have three missed texts, but I ignore them for now.

  “Tish,” I scold quietly, “you are going to want to rethink everything you’re doing here today.”

  “Of course you’d say that. You’re Trey’s agent.”

  “I’m not telling you that as his agent. I’m telling you as someone who lives in this world and has seen how it works. You do not want to go forward with this story.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re not accusing Trey of being a dick anymore. Now you’re accusing the University of California, Los Angeles of gross misconduct. You’re involving the NCAA, bringing them to UCLA’s doorstep to scour through their program looking for any wrong doing. It’ll be a shitstorm. It just got so much bigger than you planned and there will be no way to keep your name and face out of it. Trey isn’t going to pay your blackmail. I’ll tell you that right now upfront. So you’ll have to go forward with this story. You’ll have to tell the world that UCLA funded your abortion and open up both yourself and the school to investigation. They’ll want rock hard proof that it actually happened. Medical records. An ultrasound showing you were pregnant. A report from your doctor confirming the pregnancy.”

  “They can’t ask for my medical records!”

  “They’ll subpoena them, and if you won’t produce them, if you can’t prove that what you’re saying is the truth, then they’ll sue you, and I guarantee you, you will not make enough money selling your story to the tabloids to cover the legal costs you’ll incur fighting that lawsuit. You’re David going against Goliath and you don’t have a stone to throw.”

  She looks at me with anger and fear in her eyes. True desperation that makes me wonder why she was doing this in the first place. She wasn’t committed to it. She didn’t even have her story straight when she sat down to talk to me, so why? Why was she going along with this?

  Tish’s eyes brim with tears as she looks away, her lower lip trembling. “I was in love with him,” she whispers. “I was so in love with him. And I tried to get over him because I knew he didn’t love me, he doesn’t love anybody, but I couldn’t. Every time he came over I hoped it would be to stay. I hoped he’d change his mind, but he never did.” She wipes angrily at her cheek where a tear has escaped. “Then he got drafted and he graduated and I never heard from him again. Just like that. Poof. We weren’t even friends. I was just something to fuck.”

  Her voice cracks, her face crumbling as the tremor in her lips becomes a full scale quake intent on reducing her façade to rubble in her hands. I want to reach for her but I doubt it’d help. She doesn’t want comfort from me or anyone. She doesn’t even want revenge, not really. I don’t think she knows what she wants. Maybe for it to stop hurting. Maybe it’s as simple as that.

  “I’m very sorry,” I tell her softly. “I can imagine how much that hurts.”

  “Yeah,” she chuckles bitterly. She sniffs, wiping at her eyes with both hands. “It sucks.”

  “I’m sorry,” I repeat.

  “Whatever you do, don’t ever fall in love. It’s bullshit.”

  “That’s been my experience.”

  She nods, not meeting my eyes.

  I take the hint that our meeting is over. I quickly and quietly gather my folders, even the fake ones with real names on the outside and spreadsheets full of gibberish on the inside, and stuff them back into my bag along with my notepad, pen, and phone.

  When I stand to leave she looks up at me with red rimmed eyes.

  “I’m not telling the story to anyone,” she promises. “It’s a lie. All of it. I was never pregnant.”

  “Thank you for being honest.”

  “Please don’t tell people I did this. I—I don’t know why I did it. I was angry and when his cousin called me he got me all riled up and I lost my shit. I should never have agreed.”

  “We won’t be telling anyone about this, trust me. It doesn’t benefit Trey at all to have this story break, whether you’re confirming it or denying it.”

  “What about David?” she asks nervously. “What should I do if he calls me again?”

  I shake my head once before heading for the door. “You let me worry about David.”

  When I get outside I turn the ringer on my phone back to full volume. It immediately goes insane, text messages and voicemails vying for my attention, but in the thick of it is a phone call. One that’s been coming in over and over again.

  “Demarcus, what’s up?”

  “Did you know, Sloane?” he demands harshly. “Did you know this was happening and you didn’t bother telling me?”

  I stop on the sidewalk, confused by his aggressive tone. “What are you talking about? What’s happened?”

  “I’m fired, that’s what.”

  “What do you mean you’re fired? You quit the Canada league. They can’t fire you.”

  “Not them. Your dick of a dad. He sent me an e-mail today. Said my contract is up and they aren’t renewing it. Cold as ice, he told me I’m not a client of the Ashford Agency any more. Did you know about it?”

  “Of course I didn’t know about it! Are you serious? That’s what it said? You’re not our client anymore? It wasn’t just a reminder that we need to renew with you?”

  “Ended,” he tells me decisively. “I can read, Sloane.”

  I put my hand over my eyes. The stupid, big ass bracelet beats me in the face. “I know you can read, D. I’m trying to understand what’s happening. I can’t believe this.”

  “I can. Your dad has hated me since I got signed out of the country.”

  “Jesus,” I mutter to myself.

  “What am I gonna do, huh? I couldn’t get picked up with one of the biggest agencies in the damn country. If I go somewhere else I won’t be able to get a job at Burger King.”

  I lower my hand. Take a deep breath. “Do you have those tickets I sent you?”

  “To Domata’s game? Yeah. We got ‘em.”

  “Go to the game. Have fun. Smile, make friends, shake hands. Act like nothing has happened. If anyone asks, you’re still my client. Don’t say you’re with the Ashford Agency, but you are with me. You’re my client, do you hear me, D?”

  He hesitates, the heat draining out of him. When he speaks next his voice is tired and sad. I preferred the anger.

  “Yeah, Sly. I hear you. I got you.”

  Sun Life Stadium

  Miami, FL

  “Call her again,” I tell Hollis harshly. “She needs to know what the fuck is happening here.”

  “I will. I’ll call her as soon as you let me hang up the phone,” he promises calmly.

  “It’s fucked up!”

  “I agree.”

  “Who does Ashford think he is?”

  “God, I assume.”

  I shake my head, running my hand over my face. “I can’t deal with this bullshit right now. I’ve got a game to play. Why would he put this at my feet right now?”

  “You should be in warm ups, shouldn’t you?”

  “Tell Sloane to call me, Hollis,” I growl.

  He takes a breath. “I will. I promise. Try to calm down, Trey.”

  “Yeah, I’ll fuckin’ do that.”

  I hang up, tossing my phone into my locker. It ricochets off the back wall before bouncing behind my gear. I collapse down onto the bench, putting my head in my hands.

  I’m in a bad place, a bad way. I’m having trouble breathing. Having trouble seeing straight. I can’t hit the field like this and I only have a few hours before I have to. I consider grabbing my headphones, the ones Sloane gave me back at the Combine, and going for a run. Some of the guys lift together before a game. Maybe
I should join them. I have to do something. I can’t handle doing nothing like this. Not when I’m this thrown, this far gone.

  “Are you okay?”

  I look up to find a mass of big shoulders, dark hair, and black eyes towering over me.

  Matthews.

  He’s calm as always, so much that it infuriates me. I want to punch his smug face.

  “No, I’m not fucking okay,” I snap, sounding breathless.

  He nods his head slowly, his eyes scanning the locker room. “You might want to tone it down.”

  “Yeah, alright.”

  “One of the boys on the defense acting like this, that’s good news. People want them riled up. Angry. You, though? The quarterback? It’s ugly. It sends the entire team into a spiral. We don’t need that right now.”

  “Is this pep talk supposed to be calming me down? Because if anything it’s making things worse.”

  “It’s not a pep talk. It’s advice. Stop being a bitch.”

  I glare up at him, amazed by his balls. The guy barely speaks five words to me since I joined the team and now he’s calling me a bitch?

  “What the f—“

  “Man up,” he interrupts, turning his back on me. “Everyone is watching.”

  I watch him walk slowly away, my mouth hanging open. I release a puff of air held tightly in my lungs, rubbing my face in my hands again. I need to get right. Matthews wasn’t wrong about that. I have to calm down, but I have no idea how.

  My phone rings, muffled and hidden in the mass of pads and uniform stuffed in my locker. I reach back to dig it out. I expect to see Hollis’ name on the screen calling to tell me that he couldn’t get ahold of Sloane, but I’m wrong.

  It’s her.

  I stand to put my arm against the shelf in my locker, blocking my face from the rest of the room. “Sloane, what the fuck is going on?”

  “Hello to you too.”

  “Sloane,” I snap impatiently.

  “Which fire are you talking about?” she asks briskly, turning all business. “I’m chasing quite a few of them at the moment. You’ll have to be specific.”

  “I’m talking about your dad emailing me hours before a game to tell me that he knows I’m being blackmailed and my endorsements are going to dry up.”

  I hear her grunt, a curse bursting from the back of her throat. “Okay, that’s a new one.”

  “You didn’t know?”

  “No. I didn’t know he knew. I just talked to Tish and got her to recant her story. She’s not going forward with it. I was about to remind David that he has outstanding warrants in Washington for vandalism and he might want to shut his mouth if he doesn’t want cops at his door, but before I could get to him I got a million messages telling me to call you ASAP.”

  “How’d Brad find out about any of this? I thought you were keeping it quiet. I thought you were handling this.”

  “Trey, it’s his agency. He has eyes and ears everywhere. I did the best I could,” she says calmly. “I’ll keep on it, I’ll put the fire out, but right now I need you to chill.”

  “I can’t. Fucking. Chill.”

  “You have to. You have a game to play.”

  “You think I don’t know that? This is my job. All of it. I can’t lose my endorsements over this lie.” I pound my fist against the shelf as the world shifts sideways, threatening to drop me to my knees. “I can’t have someone fucking with my life like this!”

  Sloane is silent for a long time. I’m worried she’s hung up on me or I’ve gone deaf when I hear her voice, low and even. “Drive me.”

  “What?”

  “Get out of the passenger seat and drive me. You’re in charge. You’re in control. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

  I laugh bitterly, shaking my hand out. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Tell me. I’m listening.”

  “I want you to get on a plane, get down here, and make me forget all this shit.”

  “How? How would I do that, Trey?”

  Get naked and let me eat you alive for hours.

  “Jesus, I can’t do this right now,” I groan in frustration. “I’m in a locker room surrounded by guys, all of them listening. All of them have already heard me say your name.”

  “Do you want me to take care of this for you?”

  “Yeah, of course I do.”

  “But you don’t want me to tell you it’s going to be okay, so you need to tell me. You need to be in control,” she insists. “Imagine we’re on the field, we’re in the huddle. Tell me what route to run and I’ll run it. What’s the play, Domata?”

  I step back, swiping my hand over my mouth. “Clean up this Tish shit. Make it disappear, I don’t fucking care how.”

  “I will, baby,” she promises softly. Submissively. “I’ll do it for you.”

  I’m floored by the tone of her voice. By the term of endearment. She’s never used it before, but there’s something about it. Something that sets me off because when she says it, it’s like sex. It reminds me of her under my hands, under my body. Under my command.

  “What are you doing?” I ask roughly.

  “Giving you what you need. Tell me what to do. What else do you want me to do?”

  I take a slow breath. “I don’t want anything to do with Brad. Get me the hell away from him,” I tell her, not a clue how she’d ever be able to make that happen.

  Still she coos quietly, “I’ll get it done.”

  And still it calms some raging part of me.

  “Anything else?”

  “Find a way to be my agent without being my agent.”

  “You want me to get an alter ego? Be Bruce Wayne in the streets and Batman in the sheets?”

  I chuckle. “No, I seriously don’t want you to be Batman.”

  “Catwoman and Selena Kyle?”

  “Hell yeah.”

  “I’ll shop for a black leather suit as soon as I get the chance. In the meantime, I need something from you. Just one thing.”

  “Only if you use the B word again.”

  “Can you help me, Batman?”

  “Wrong B word.”

  She laughs lightly. “I need you to give me something, baby.”

  “I’ll give you anything.”

  “I need to know who else knows about your attacks.”

  Part of me wants to lash out. It wants to shut down, to tell her I don’t know what she’s talking about, but it’s a lie and I know it. She knows it. She just talked me down from an attack. How am I gonna go and tell her they don’t happen?

  “Coach Reagan,” I answer immediately, not bothering to ask why she needs to know. I don’t have to ask. I trust her. “Head coach at UCLA. He’s always known.”

  “I might have to call him.”

  “You should. He likes you.”

  “Let’s hope so. Now go kick some ass,” she tells me, her voice turning hard and familiar, the pit bull inside her rising up to fight. “I’m gonna go do the same.”

  Ashford Agency

  Los Angeles, CA

  It’s a tall order, what Trey has told me to do. It won’t be easy. I’m going to have to throw everything I have into the fire and hope a Phoenix rises out of the ashes. I have to hope I’m smart enough, cunning enough, to pull all of the right strings that will untangle Trey and I from this mess. Whether we win or lose, by the end of this day my world will look decidedly different than it does right now, but it will be better.

  It has to be better.

  “I can’t believe the balls on him,” Hollis mumbles in amazement. He’s sitting on my couch staring at the walls, still stunned. “I knew he was a cutthroat, but his own daughter. His agency’s client!”

  “Funny how your amazement is stronger that he’d screw his agency than his daughter,” I point out, leaning back in my chair. “Very telling.”

  “It is what it is.”

  “And what he is, is an asshole.” I take a sip of my beer, shaking my head sadly. “But I knew that when I came to work f
or him, and he’s still my dad. I still love him. I just don’t love working for him.”

  “You’re seriously going to go through with this? You’re really going to quit?”

  I look at him impatiently. “He fired Demarcus today without telling me. Without consulting me. That alone is enough to make me pack my bags, but what he did to Trey today… how could he mess with him like that hours before a game? He had to know what that would do to his head.”

  “He was trying to rattle him.”

  “Yeah, but why? He’s half his client too.”

  “But Larkin is all his.”

  My head falls back against my chair as realization hits me. “The goddam Dolphins. Larkin is on their team.”

  “Bingo. And if Trey is rattled tonight and has a bad game while Andre Larkin shines, Brad comes out looking like the genius who signed the right guy.”

  “Un-fucking-believable,” I groan. “All because of me. All because I pulled a paycheck out of his hands and he can’t stand it.”

  “A paycheck you scouted and worked your ass off for,” Hollis reminds me.

  “It doesn’t matter. Not to him. He’s harder on me than on anyone else because I’m his daughter, and he’s going to be harder on my clients than anyone else for the same reason. I can’t stay here. And neither can Trey.”

  Hollis nods his head thoughtfully, taking a pull off his brown bottle. He licks his lips clean, releasing a long, tired breath. “Well, if you’re going, I’m going.”

  I stare at him in shock. “Hollis, no. You can’t.”

  “I can’t stay,” he chuckles. “Not with things the way they are, and not without you. Do you think I like anyone else here?”

  “You live for our UPS guy.”

  “There are other, hotter delivery men in Los Angeles. I’ll get my fix. Don’t worry about me.” He points a finger at my face. “You, though. There’s only one you, and I’m going with you.”

  I nervously run my finger through the condensation on my beer. My skin feels feverish against the cool of the bottle. “And your clients?” I ask quietly.