Page 3 of The Swiping Game
2
DEAN
Beinga sports agent in Nashville comes with its fair share of benefits. I can get into virtually any restaurant I want. New bar opening up? I’m on the short list. I make plenty of money to afford a downtown penthouse. And I also get to make in-person calls to the front offices of players I represent.
Getting under the skin of a certain brown-haired assistant is just an added bonus.
“So, what really brings you by here today?” Hunter asks as he takes a seat at his desk. “And don’t say Bryce. For once, he isn’t the problem.”
I can’t help but laugh. At this point, that’s really all I can do when thinking about the Bryce Donald saga. The Fury’s franchise quarterback, and my highest-earning client, has been the problem child for the better part of the last two seasons. It hasn’t been easy making sure he doesn’t go from the most promising young quarterback of a generation to the biggest flop the league has ever seen. But fingers crossed he’s back on the right path. Only time will tell.
“No, for once, Bryce isn’t the reason I’m here. I was upstairs meeting with Neil to go over a few contract stipulations and just thought I’d come down and see how my favorite coaching client is doing.”
Hunter raises a suspicious brow. “I’m your only coaching client.”
“That’s why you’re my favorite,” I say, standing up and taking a few steps to nowhere. I’ve never been good at sitting still, even if it’s in a casual conversation like this one. Maybe that’s why the sports agent life suits me so well. It’s a twenty-four seven, three sixty-five job.
And I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.
Plus, now that I’m standing, I have an easier view to catch a glimpse of Tara. I don’t know why I love riling her up so much, but I do. And I can tell by the way she’s stewing at her desk that I’ve already gotten under her skin today.
“You really came all the way down here just to say ‘hey’ and shoot the shit?” Hunter asks, pulling my attention away from outside his office. “It’s Friday afternoon in March. Your schedule is about to become hell. Why don’t you take a second to breathe while you can? Maybe get out of town for the weekend. I know how much I pay you. You can afford to go on vacation for a few days.”
He’s right, I can. Hell, with as much commission as I pull in from him and the other guys I represent on the Fury, I could disappear to a private island for a week.
“Nah,” I say, doing my best not to sneak little glances to the desk outside Hunter’s office. “I’m not really the vacation kind of guy.”
“You sound like Sadie.”
“Well, your fiancée is a pretty smart lady, so I’ll take that as a compliment.”
His fiancée might be a pain in the ass reporter—all media are—but if I had to pick one reporter to talk to for the rest of my career, without a doubt, it would be Sadie. She’s smart and says it how it is. I like that in a woman.
“Quit trying to get off subject by bringing up my future wife. What are you really down here for? Or is it simply to make my last day beforemyvacation a little longer?”
I didn’t lie when I said I had a meeting with Neil earlier. I also wasn’t lying when I said I just came down to say hi to Hunter. But what I won’t say out loud is that I came down here to see, and annoy, Tara.
For the life of me, I can’t remember when or how our back-and-forth started. All I remember is that her cheeks turned red, a little steam came out of her ears, and I was oddly turned on by the exchange. I think it had something to do with a donut.
Ever since then, getting Tara riled up is my favorite part of coming to the Fury offices.
“Coach McAvoy.” Tara’s voice comes into the office through the intercom. I try and catch a glimpse of her through the glass wall, but as soon as I look, she hurries and turns her chair. “You told me to remind you when it was three forty-five.”
“Thanks, Tara.” Hunter puts away a few files before standing up. “Sadie will be here soon. But in all seriousness, was there anything you needed?”
“Nah.” I button my jacket and get my thoughts away from how I can antagonize Tara on my way out. “Just wanted to come check on you. Earn my paycheck.”
“You really need a life,” Hunter says, grabbing a duffle bag from under his desk. “You know, I bet you wouldn’t be opposed to vacation so much if you had someone to go with you.”
“I don’t have time to date,” I say as I follow Hunter out of his office. “Making sure you guys are taken care of is a full-time job.”
“I used to say things like that.”
“Next you’re going to tell me that you don’t anymore because you found the love of a good woman. You don’t need to. I get enough of that from my mother.”
Hunter stops and turns to look at me. Why does it look like he’s concerned about me? I mean, we’re friends—as much as our agent-and-client relationship allows. But right now, it looks like he wants to give me a hug.
“I could say that, but I’m not. All I’m going to say is that one day you’re going to realize your contracts can’t keep you warm at night.”
