Page 102 of Second Down Fake

I pushed aside the NDA and flipped through the contract until my eyes reached the end. “Holy shit.”

The five-digit “remittance” was more money than I’d ever seen in my lifetime. More money than I’d made in any single year.

“Fifty thousand dollars?” I breathed the words, barely believing them.

“Right,” James’ lips flattened into a straight line, and he cocked his head. “Fifty thousand today and an additional fifty thousand dollars at the start of next season, as long as the contract is upheld. You read this contract, correct?”

“I maybe skimmed over that part,” I admitted with a wince.

“Please tell me you’re joking.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright. That’s fine. I’m going to go ahead and make that appointment with the legal firm. Do you have a lawyer?”

“Do I look like the type of person who has a lawyer?” I answered honestly. I didn’t even have a primary care doctor. Certainly not a lawyer.

“If I tell you to get one, will you?” I shook my head and James sighed. “I’ll find one, but you’re paying the retainer.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I trust you to keep a low profile until you’ve talked to the lawyer?”

“For fifty thousand dollars, I would disappear to Asia right now,” I joked.

James raised an eyebrow. “That won’t be necessary. But maybe staying put in New Hampshire, for the time being, would be ideal. I can’t imagine any reporters will brave those mountains in the winter, but no interviews, no comments, no exposes.”

“No fun?”

“If your idea of ‘fun’ is compromising Diego’s reputation, then, yeah, no fun,” James answered with an iota of levity. “Actually, I’m going to get that consult with a lawyer set up now.”

“I’m joking. No one in their right mind is going up to Franklin Notch in November, and I’ll keep quiet. There’s really nothing to say.” I picked up the pen sitting on the stack of papers and signed the last line of the contract.

Done.

With a single pen stroke, I’d removed the legal ties that bound Diego and me together.

A mixture of relief and apprehension built in my chest. Whatever we did from this point forward had nothing to do with football or the press, only each other.

“That reminds me.” James reached back into the manila folder and pulled out a small white envelope. “I have one final thank you, a bonus of sorts.”

I took the envelope, removing an airline ticket.

“First class flight back to New Hampshire,” James said with a pleased smile. “Diego didn’t want you flying coach.”

A bloom of warmth spread over me. Then, my eyes wandered down to the flight information. “It’s for today.”

“Yep. This afternoon. Diego said you had already packed, so I have a car coming to pick you up in…” He picked up his arm and read the time on a silver Rolex. “Two hours.”

I pushed away a brief spurt of panic. No big deal. A gracious gesture, in fact. Diego didn’t want me flying coach, which considering the fifty grand payday he’d just dropped on my lap, I didn’t need, even so, nice. Sweet, even.

I flipped over the ticket, searching for the return information. “Is this one way?”

James collected the contracts, stuffing them back into the now-empty envelope. “Right. As for your car, don’t worry about that. I’ll have it transported back to New Hampshire, along with any furniture or belongings at Becca’s apartment. Unless you need to grab some things before your flight? I can call a car.”

I shook my head, confused. “No. I’ve got everything here.”

James pulled out his phone, tapping onto the screen. “I’ll send a cleaning crew to the apartment. If there’s anything left, I’ll have it boxed up and sent after you. Really, I don’t want you to worry about a thing.”

He stood up with a warm smile and held his hand over the table. “I appreciate this, Cassandra. Truly. I know Diego feels the same way. It’s been a pleasure having you on our team this season.”

Stunned, I stood and shook his hand, trying to make sense of the conversation. Had Diego just dumped me? Then again, could he really dump me if we weren’t dating in the first place? I walked James out of the house and shut the door as the confusion morphed into something akin to grief. I pushed the feeling away.

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