Page 15 of Fake Out

“Great, thanks. Listen, I’ve recently picked up a new client. I’d Love to discuss?—”

“A new client?” I can hear the hesitation in his voice.

“Yes.” I lick my lips. “I represent Charlie Elwood, and I have some exciting news to share — Charlie is happily in love and completely committed to his relationship. He’s a changed man and ready to get back on the field.”

“Charlie Elwood?” Steven snorts, skepticism dripping from every word. “You’re telling me that notorious playboy has suddenly settled down? I’ll believe it when I see it, sweetheart.”

“Believe what you want,” I reply, not letting my irritation show. “But I assure you, it’s true. And if you’re interested in seeing it for yourself, perhaps we can arrange a meeting?”

“Fine, fine,” the rep concedes, chuckling. “I’ll bite. Set it up, and we’ll talk.”

“Thank you,” I respond, grinning as I jot down the details. One down, many more to go.

As the day wears on, I contact five more teams, each conversation following a similar pattern. Doubtful laughter, sarcastic remarks, but ultimately, they all agree to meet with us. By the time I hang up the phone after the last call, my cheeks ache from smiling so much.

This is it. Get ready, world.

Here we come.

CHAPTER 9

CHARLIE

The doorbell chimes, and my heart skips a beat. Smoothing out my shirt, I take a deep breath before opening the door. Marissa stands on the threshold, radiating beauty even after her long day at work.

I swallow hard, suddenly feeling awkward around her.

What is wrong with me? Usually, I’m confident with women, but it must be all this recent stress that’s throwing me off balance.

“Hello.” She greets me with a warm smile as she steps inside. “Nice place you have here.”

“Thanks. Make yourself at home.” I motion her toward the living room, trying to play it cool.

She glides across the polished hardwood floor, her heels clicking softly with each step. I follow her, cursing myself for feeling so clumsy in her presence.

“Would you like a drink?” I ask, gesturing to the bar cart in the corner. “I’ve got a pretty good selection.”

“Actually, I’ll pass on the alcohol tonight.” She gives me a critical eye, and I suspect I already know what’s to come next. “And maybe we should talk about your drinking habits.”

I raise an eyebrow as I pour myself a cocktail. “Why? I have it under control.”

Her gaze pierces through me, unyielding, as she raises an eyebrow in return. That one look says everything.

“I don’t have a drinking problem,” I argue against her silence.

She lifts her chin. “Let’s look back at all the times you made headlines for unsavory behavior. There’s the most recent fight in the bar. Tell me you weren’t drinking then.”

“I— well, yeah. I had a couple drinks…”

“And when you stole the Hogs’ mascot?”

I blink at her. Shit. This woman did her homework. That incident was all the way back in high school.

“I was underage then,” I point out.

“Uh-huh. And so that means you weren’t drinking?” She puts a hand on her hip, her stare only becoming more intense. “There’s also last year when you were photographed with that married woman. At. A. Bar.”

I look down, unable to meet her eye anymore.

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