Page 27 of Resisting the Running Back

When I get back, she’s usually showered and ready to tell me about what she worked on.

It’s one of my favorite parts of the day.

She’s always so enthusiastic and excited to share what she was working on, almost as if she’s bragging about her accomplishments because she wants to impress me. I guess I’m sort of an investor in her company, though to be honest, I’m invested in her as a person far more than in her business.

Today I’m meeting with my publicist, someone new I’m working with in San Diego. She was recommended by Ford, the backup quarterback to my brother, and I hired her midway through last season. We haven’t had much opportunity to work together yet, but I have some plans I want to talk to her about, which is why I scheduled today’s meeting.

I head to the office where Tara Holt works, and her assistant greets me with a bottle of water as she walks me back to Tara’s office. She’s sitting behind her desk in a pantsuit as she studies her computer, clear square eyeglasses perched on her nose and her chin-length dark hair pushed behind her ears.

She glances up when the assistant knocks on the doorframe, and she rises from her chair and removes her eyeglasses as she greets me with her hand stuck out over her desk.

“Mr. Banks, lovely to see you again,” she says, no warmth in her tone as it’s all professional. “Have a seat.”

The assistant leaves, and I sit.

“What can I do for you today?” she asks.

“My brother is getting married,” I begin. I’m not sure why I begin there, and she gives me kind of a funny look as I say it, so I backtrack. “We’ve always been a package deal. But he’s doing his own thing now. He started up an after-school program for kids to learn how to play football. I guess I just…want my own thing, too. I want to work on my branding as an individual. Create my own programs. Do my own community outreach. You know?”

She squints a little and nods as she clearly begins to formulate some ideas. “Well, there are tons of ways we could tackle this, no pun intended. We could simply work on a line of endorsements or sponsorships. You could be the face of, say, All Pro Athlete Drink, or whatever offer comes your way that you feel is a good fit. That would help with the branding angle. As for program creation, what are you thinking?”

I shrug, and Sophie’s face comes to mind. “I don’t know. Something with high school kids, maybe?”

She nods. “Let’s give it some thought. Are you thinking a business or a charity?”

“More charity, I think.”

“Okay. An annual event, virtual or in-person, related to sports or something else…” She trails off after firing off all those questions.

“All great questions that give me things to think about.”

“What are you passionate about?” she asks.

Another great question. “Football.”

“Obviously.”

I clear my throat. “Player health. Leadership. Giving kids the tools and open doors to be successful in this career—or even helping them figure out if this career is right for them because it isn’t for everybody.”

She nods. “By high school, I think most can recognize the potential a kid has and if they have any chance of making it pro.So I think you’re onto something. Let me do some research and see what similar programs are out there. But help me break this down. You want to run a charity event where you inform and instruct students on things such as player health, leadership, and a career in professional sports, and you want it to meet…weekly? Monthly? Annually for a week, like a boot camp?”

“Yeah, something like that. Let me do a little research, too, and let’s touch base next week with what we’ve each found,” I suggest.

We set an appointment a week out, and then I head home to find Sophie crying at the kitchen table.

“Oh my God, Soph. What’s wrong?” I ask, rushing over and kneeling beside her.

She sniffles and wipes her cheeks. “Sorry. I just, ugh. God. Tyler called. He’s breaking his lease on the apartment and said he needs my key back tonight, and I can’t just magically make it appear. So I have to drive back to Phoenix tonight.”

“Fuck him,” I say. “Tell him to make a copy.”

“I would, but he had my name on the lease, too, and I’ll be on the hook for the deposit. And it’s not just that. I left a few things there, and he said he’ll trash them if I don’t come get them.”

I pull my phone out of my pocket. “There’s a flight that leaves in an hour. We could hop that one, stay the night, and come back in the morning.”

“Stop, Miller. You’ve been way too good to me already with this whole thing. I can’t let you book me a flight on top of your generosity.”

“I’d be booking it for both of us, not just you,” I say with a smirk. I click the button to purchase two tickets before she can protest, and I flash my phone at her.

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