Page 35 of Truth or More Truth
fourteen
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Imust’ve angered the karmic gods in some way, because the seating arrangement at the rehearsal dinner placed Melissa smack dab between me and Shannon. Actually, I’m guessing it was Leslie I irritated in some way to make this happen. They all seem to think something happened between Melissa and me on the drive down here, but I’m guessing Leslie would prefer Melissa to be with her brother instead of me, and rightfully so. I also wonder if Melissa would prefer Shannon to me. I didn’t miss the fact that while she openly stared at me during the rehearsal, she smiled at Shannon. She didn’t smile at me.
Thankfully, Leslie’s dad is on my other side, so I can talk to him when Melissa’s chatting with Shannon. I’ll admit I don’t like how I feel when she laughs at something he says or touches his arm. I shouldn’t feel possessive of her after our one day together, but I do.
“So, Bobby,” Ernie says, “my daughter tells me you have quite the cutthroat reputation as a sports agent. I hear you always get what you want.”
I tense at his words, and I nearly jolt out of my chair when Melissa’s hand lands on my leg under the tablecloth. She gives my thigh a slight squeeze, as if conveying her support.
I recover quickly and respond, “Not always. And it’s not about what I want, sir, but what my clients want.”
“How you managed to get Houston to trade Diego to Chicago last season is beyond me.”
“That was all him.” I nod toward Diego at the other end of the long table.
“All?”
“Well, mostly. The man is very persuasive.”
“I’ve heard that as well. But I’m surprised you’re not taking more credit for it.”
Melissa tightens her fingers on my thigh again, even though she’s having a conversation with Shannon.
“It’s not all about me.” Which is new. I can’t imagine I would’ve said that even two days ago, but my perspective is changing, thanks to the woman with her hand my leg. I do what I do for my clients and for my family, not for me. It hasn’t always been that way, but I now realize that’s changed over the years.
“That’s good to hear. Who are some of your other clients?”
As Ernie and I chat about the other athletes I represent, Melissa’s hand slips away. I grab for it and pull it back to my leg, leaving my hand curled over hers. I hold my breath, waiting for her to pull away again or even slap me, but she doesn’t.
“Mi hermano,I haven’t talked to you since Christmas Eve, which is way too long.” Diego gives me a tight hug and then asks, “How’s Kelli?”
I’m finally getting some one-on-one time with Diego while the guests mingle after the rehearsal dinner. The man is so much more than my favorite client—he’s also my closest friend and, like I told Melissa, he’s like a brother to me. Ash and Randall are also getting to that status, but I haven’t known them as long as I’ve known Diego, who was one of my first clients. We’ve both had to deal with some major personal issues over the decade-plus we’ve been working together. I’m not sure how I’d have made it through without him.
I switch to speaking in Spanish, in case we can be overheard. “She’s not happy I wasn’t around the past few days since I was in Chicago and she couldn’t come with me.”
Diego purses his lips in frustration. “And why were you in Chicago instead of at home with your daughter?”
“Dealing with client drama.”
“Drama with a client in Chicago that’s not me?” Diego lets out a belly laugh. “What’s the world coming to?”
“Right? Usually you’re the drama queen, but this time it was someone else.”
“You’re not going to tell me who? Come on,hermano. You can tell me.”
“You know I can’t. I don’t tell people about your behind-the-scenes drama, so I’m not telling you about anyone else’s.”
“Fine. I respect that, but I know it’s Jimmie Zane. That kid can’t stay out of trouble. I don’t know why you signed him. He creates more drama than the rest of your clients combined.”
I shrug. “Apparently I’m drawn to drama. Case in point.” I nod toward him with a smirk.
Diego laughs again. “Can’t argue with that. Anyway, back to Kelli. She’s okay other than being mad you ditched her for Jimmie?”
I pause, knowing I should tell him what’s going on but not wanting to talk about this in public, even in Spanish.
“I can always tell when you’re hiding something from me,” he says. “Just spit it out.”
