Page 19 of Fake Out

I’m not going to tell him that I barely slept a wink last night. As his agent, I need to project an air of calm confidence. It’s up to me to keep this show together.

“Thanks.” He manages a small smile before we stand up and gather our bags from the overhead compartment.

Exiting the plane, I feel a surge of excitement. Despite how nervous I feel, meeting with the Storms’ rep is going to be a game-changer. Who knows? Maybe we’ll even get an offer today.

As we walk through the bustling airport, people begin to recognize Charlie. A few excited fans approach, asking for pictures, while others shout out snide comments. I notice Charlie’s jaw tightening, so I slip my hand into his, offering silent support. We’re supposed to look like a happy couple, after all.

“Hey, Elwood! You screw up any more games lately?” someone yells from across the terminal, causing Charlie’s grip on my hand to tighten.

“Smile,” I murmur under my breath, squeezing his hand reassuringly.

He forces a grin, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. I know he’s hurting, but we have to keep up appearances. If he loses his cool, everything we’re building up here will come crashing down.

“Can we get a picture with you, Charlie?” a young man asks, rushing over to us.

There’s a woman at his side, and she looks over the moon. They don’t seem to care about the recent scandal; they’re only interested in getting a snapshot with their favorite athlete. Seeing that warms my heart. For every person out there who ridicules Charlie, there’s probably someone else who still supports him.

“Of course,” he says, and for the first time today, I see what is probably a genuine smile.

I step back, allowing them to pose with him. As they take the photo, Charlie lights up even more. It’s clear that he loves being with his fans, and that’s good. It makes great press.

“Thanks so much!” The woman watches with bright eyes as Charlie and I walk away.

I wonder how often he gets approached by young women like that, and if he’s ever hooked up with any of them.

I push the thought away. The past is none of my business. I only need to concern myself with what Charlie does from here on out — and only thinking as his agent, not his girlfriend.

Stepping outside the airport, the warm Georgia air wraps around us like an embrace. A sleek black car waits just a few feet away, the driver holding up a sign with my name on it.

“There we are.” I point and head for the car.

“Never expected a chauffeur,” Charlie mutters, his eyes scanning the crowd for any more hecklers. “I thought those days were gone.”

“Part of the job,” I reply, squeezing his hand as we approach the driver. “Marissa White and Charlie Elwood,” I confirm.

The man nods and opens the back door for us.

Once settled in the plush leather seats, I glance at Charlie, who seems to be lost in thought. The car pulls away from the curb, and I decide it’s time to address the elephant in the room.

“Look, I know that was rough in the airport, but trust me, it’ll get better,” I say gently, my words filled with genuine belief. “Soon enough, all this will calm down, and you’ll be an all-American hero once again.”

“Thanks.” His eyes meet mine. There’s something different in his expression — vulnerability, perhaps. “I mean it. I don’t know what I’d do without you right now.”

The sincerity in his voice catches me off guard, and a sudden warmth spreads across my cheeks. I clear my throat, forcing myself to look away.

It’s silly, really, to develop a tiny crush on my client. But I have to stay focused and remain professional. My career comes first, and besides, Charlie’s known for being a serial dater.

Remembering that is good for me. It helps to keep my thoughts about my client pure and uncomplicated.

The car rolls through Atlanta’s bustling streets, and I seize the opportunity to coach Charlie on what to expect in the meeting.

“So, Patrick is the rep we’re meeting,” I explain, my fingers tapping rhythmically on the leather armrest. “He’ll probably ask you about your recent scandal and how you plan to change your image going forward.”

“Right.” He nods, his gaze focused on me. “I need to show them I’m serious about turning over a new leaf.”

“Exactly. Be genuine and honest. People can spot a fake from miles away.” I pull my tablet from my bag and open the notes I’ve typed for the meeting. “You might also get questions about your previous fights. Just remember to stay calm and collected. Don’t let any of their questions rattle you.”

“Got it,” he says, a determined glint in his eyes. “Stay cool under pressure.”

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