Page 5 of Reckless Kiss
I shot him a look I hoped would shut him the hell up.
No such luck, unfortunately.
“I’m betting she has no idea, which is why you’ve gone dry. You’re trying to be a normal guy.”
“Weren’t we discussing your ineptitude with women?”
“But you having a weakness with women is the biggest news of the century. It’s like your kryptonite.” He slammed the pizza box closed. “Whoever she is, she must be something else.”
I’d agree but I was starting believe I made her up. No one could be that incredible. She had to be a figment of my overactive imagination.
* * *
Dante Emerson slida folded piece of paper across the conference table like we were in some sort of movie-style negotiation. I wanted to roll my eyes. I wanted to smack the twenty-year-old basketball phenom upside the head.
But instead I kept on my poker face and took up the piece of paper.
“What’s this?”
He shrugged, looking smug. He had a certain right to his smugness, unfortunately. “What I want.”
I knew before I glanced at the chicken scratch it was ridiculous. “No one is giving you a yacht, Dante.”
“Never know until you ask.”
“Yes I do. I’ve been doing this for a long time. No one is going to seriously consider this.”
There were some days being an agent was the most thrilling career I could imagine. The million-dollar negotiations hanging by a thread, the tempers, the dreams. But there were other days I spent doing nothing but managing drama and personalities.
Those days I’d like to ignore entirely. Ferraris and mistresses sound exciting when you’re floating on an attention high. They are less exciting when I have to spend my afternoon rearranging seating so wives and mistresses don’t accidentally wind up in the same room.
Being a glorified babysitter was not included in the brochure and yet it was a significant part of my job.
“I’ll sign with whichever team gets me a yacht,” Dante said with a grin.
“No, you’ll sign with whoever gives you the best deal. You can buy a yacht with your own money.”
“That’s not exciting, Leo. That doesn’t make headlines. It doesn’t make viral social media.”
Dante may be twenty but he was also very smart. “I understand your desire to make this deal as headline-worthy as possible. Please let me do my job. I’m very good at it.”
And Bancroft Sports benefited from it year-in and year-out which was why I now had a corner office with a view, free reign to do what I needed to do, and our president’s ear.
That same president who was standing outside the conference room with a scowl.
Perhaps I needed to check my own ego.
“We’ll meet Monday, Dante. By then we’ll know everything.”
“All right, Mr. Hancock.” He stood and shook my hand. “But think about the yacht. It would be great. I promise.”
I would not be getting him a yacht. “Have a good afternoon.” I showed him out.
Marie waited.
Marie Bancroft Hamilton was not only the president of the company but also one of our best agents. Her father founded the company, grooming her to take his place, which she did five years ago. And while her client list was now reserved for only a few special athletes, she was still damn good at her job.
“What have I done to earn that scowl?”
