Page 4 of Fake Out

“Is Isaac still treating you like his personal assistant?” She makes a sour face.

“Pretty much,” I grumble, stirring my tea absentmindedly. “I’ve been at the agency for years, but it feels like I haven’t made any progress. He hasn’t given me one client to work with.”

“That blows.” Ria reaches across the table and places a reassuring hand on mine. “You’re so talented and smart. You just need to find a way to show Isaac what you’re capable of.”

“I know.” I sigh. “But how? He doesn’t seem to be willing to give me a chance.”

“Maybe you could suggest taking on more responsibility or ask to shadow him during contract negotiations.”

“Trust me, I’ve tried,” I say, shaking my head. “He just brushes me off every time.”

“Then maybe it’s time to start looking for opportunities elsewhere. You don’t want to spend your entire career stuck in one place, do you?”

“Of course not,” I agree.

What I don’t tell her is that I’ve already sent out resumés. No other agencies are hiring. For now, I’m stuck where I’m at.

I’m tired of talking about this, though. Tired of bringing down the mood. For just another twenty minutes, I’d like to focus on better things.

“Let’s get back to talking about Greece,” I suggest.

We do an internet search on the best beaches to visit, but even as we talk, that nagging fear that’s always in the back of my mind returns. What if this lowly job is all I’ll ever amount to?

What if I’ve already reached the pinnacle of my career and life, and there’s nowhere to go from here but down?

A shiver runs through me, and I push the dark thoughts away. Of course, they’ll come back later.

They always do.

CHAPTER 3

CHARLIE

The silence in my mansion is deafening. Defeating. Depressing.

It’s been a couple of weeks since the Thunderhawks dropped me, and the fallout has been brutal. Xavier, my now-former manager, was quick to follow suit, severing our relationship without a backward glance.

My teammates have all but vanished, leaving me with nothing but the echoes of my once-promising career. All except for Tim Palmer, that is. The wide receiver on the Thunderhawks has stuck by me through it all, a single beacon of loyalty amidst the storm.

But I refuse to give up. Hunched over the desk in my home office, I pore over a list of sports agents and managers, determination pushing me forward. I’ve been cold-calling them one by one, hoping against hope that someone will see past the controversy and take a chance on me. Each rejection stings, but I can’t afford to dwell on it. There’s too much at stake.

I dial the number of the next agent on my list, trying not to think too much about how it’s the last one. When they answer, I launch into my practiced spiel, trying to sound confident despite the quivering in my voice.

“Hi, this is Charlie Elwood, former quarterback for the Thunderhawks and currently seeking representation. I came across your agency and?—”

“Elwood?” The agent interrupts me, his tone dripping with disdain. “Yeah, I know who you are. You’re a joke, kid. No one wants to touch you with a ten-foot pole.”

I swallow hard, struggling to choke back the bile that rises in my throat. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard such words, but each new insult feels like a fresh wound, carving away at the threads of hope I’m clinging to.

“Look,” I say. “I know I’ve made mistakes, but I’m still a damn good player. If you just give me a chance?—”

“Save it,” the agent cuts me off again, his voice cold and final. “We’re not interested.”

The line goes dead, leaving me once more to face the silence that has become my constant companion.

I stare at the phone in my hand, feeling like the weight of the entire world has been placed on my shoulders. My heart is heavy as hopelessness seeps into every corner of my being. Is it time to throw in the towel?

Hell, what else would I even do? I hadn’t planned on retiring for years. Football is my passion, my reason for living, and at twenty-six years old, I can’t imagine tapping out this early.

---