“Oh yeah?” I tried to sound innocent. Like I hadn’t known about this MMA match-up for the past six months. “What are you here for? Another fight or something?”
He nodded. “A big one’s coming up. Huge, actually.”
“Cool.” My mind raced. Trying to avoid thinking about the fact that his opponent was my brother meant the words hovered dangerously close to spilling off my lips. “So who’s your…” Don’t say rival. Don’t say rival. “…trainer?”
Hawk grinned, like he appreciated the question. Like he appreciated me. “Travis Holt. You know the trainers in my circuit or something?”
I snickered, fingering the stem of my empty glass. I did know Travis Holt, actually. He was a bigshot trainer out in LA, where Hawk was from. Everyone in the MMA world knew about Travis Holt and his swanky gym and his new annoying show where MMA fighters squared off against regular people. I actually loved the show—I just couldn’t let my brother know how much. He still resented the fact that Travis had picked Hawk over him to train. “No. Just curious. As your number one fan, I should be kept up to date on all the facets of your career.”
Hawk’s grin widened. “Number one fan, huh?” He ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “Funny, someone last week claimed the same thing. You two might have to have a showdown.”
I scoffed. “I’m prepared to duel. As long as it’s Cards Against Humanity, I will slaughter any foe.”
His dark eyes gleamed with interest. Like the entire world around him had shrunk and all he could see was me. His attention sizzled. “And what do you do when you’re not slaughtering foes?”
“Oh, you mean, like, to keep the lights on?” When he nodded, I went on. “In a nutshell…I’m a publicist.” I beamed at him, batting my eyelashes. “I manage social media accounts for my clients, I design campaigns, I can even brand a business on a good day.”
“Dang. You sound pretty useful.” He took another tiny sip of his drink. “Might have to keep you around.”
I grinned at him, but on the inside my belly flopped to my feet. He was probably just kidding—hopefully he was kidding—because being hired by my brother’s rival would be the biggest breach of contract I could ever imagine. Besides, Brute paid me to dig up dirt on Hawk and any other fighter he matched against. I was the professional pot-stirrer, but I couldn’t stir two pots at once.
“How do you even know I’m worth hiring? I could suck, for all you know.” I sent him a mysterious smile. My best approximation, at least.
“Well, I’d have to look at your portfolio, of course. Check some things out. See if I could afford you.” His lips twitched upward. “But something tells me you’re really good.”
His words lit a fire inside me, one that was difficult to rationalize away. “Oh, I’m good. You don’t even know how good.”
“Yeah?” His tone egged me on.
“I’m so good I’ve had guys call me ten years later still wanting more.”
He burst into laughter. “Are we still talking about your job?”
My cheeks flushed, and I waved the bartender down. Definitely was not talking about my job anymore. “Maybe. You’ll have to decide that for yourself.”