Page 54 of Just Let Go

“I know, Grady. I’ll take care of it. How are things there?”

“You’re kidding, right? How do you think things are?”

“Sorry. I am trying. I called your lawyer again—had him review your contract with Bowman.”

“And?”

“They’ll owe you some money—you won’t see it for a little while—but it’s in their right to cut you loose as they see fit. But I do have one piece of good news.”

Well, that was a change.

“Spectre called. They heard about Bowman. Wanted to know if you’d be interested in repping them instead.”

“Spectre?”

“I know it’s not ideal, Grady, but they’re making a name for themselves. It’s a young company—you could help brand them.”

It was a young company without much money and a whole lot less prestige than what Grady was used to. Bowman had treated him like a prince. Private jets to competitions, suites he could easily live in. Cars. Parties. Women.

Grady could still remember one summer just a few years ago when Brent Bowman, grandson of the company’s founder, showed up at his condo after one particularly wild night of partying. Brent wore an expensive gray suit with a blue tie. Grady wore last night’s jeans and nothing else.

At the sight of him, Brent held up a ring of keys, jingling them around as if they meant something.

Grady squinted, the light of the morning sun doing a number on his hangover. “What’s that?”

“Get dressed and come find out.” Brent grinned. Grady had gotten to know the man over the years—he was a good guy, and he understood Grady’s affection for speed. Maybe he’d rented a particularly unique sports car and had a joyride planned?

Grady let him in, though he wasn’t proud of the condition of his condo. People—mostly strangers, really—had come over the night before, and they’d done a number on the place.

Brent pretended not to notice.

“Do I have to dress like you to go wherever it is we’re going?”

Brent laughed. “I wouldn’t know who you were if you did.”

Grady brushed his teeth and pulled on fresh clothes—jeans and a well-worn Chicago Bulls T-shirt. “You wanna tell me where we’re going now?”

“Rather show you.” Brent’s BMW was the only car parked outside. They got in, and for the next ten minutes, the man talked to Grady about his value to their company.

“Having an athlete of your caliber wearing our logo—it’s something we’ve strived for at Bowman,” he’d said. “We’re all feeling pretty lucky you’re on our team.”

“I’ve been on your team for years, man,” Grady said, feeling oddly uncomfortable with the praise.

“But it’s only been the last few years we could give you the perks you deserve.” They were pulling into the parking lot of the speedway—a large racetrack just outside of town.

“What are we doing here?”

“You’re the fastest skier competing right now—you obviously love fast things.”

“No way.” Grady glanced up at the speedway as Brent put the car in park.

“Time to see what you’re made of, man.”

As a rule, Grady drove fast, but he’d never topped 150. That was all about to change.

The Bowman race car was on the track and a crew of men injumpsuits moved around it, making sure it was ready for him. He stared at it for a minute before moving toward it.

“You sure?” He glanced up at Brent, who nodded, his own grin matching Grady’s. “This is awesome.”

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