Page 63 of Wild Catch
I put my paws on her head and feel around. “Did you hurt your head this morning?”
Audrey is what I consider mysterious. She’s a great person—she’s helped Hope and I out of more than one pickle—funny in her cranky way, and extremely hardworking. Out of the three of us, she’s the one who puts the longest hours without even traveling as much as Hope and I do.
But sometimes, like right now, I can tell that there’s something brewing behind her eyes that she doesn’t want to say. And every time I notice that, she gets one step ahead of me and changes the topic.
She plucks my hands away from her head. “Anyway, don’t makeyourpretty head hurt by worrying about things that aren’t a big deal. Let’s wait to see what Logan’s agent says and take it from there, yeah?”
Sighing, I nod, and we settle in to wait.
CHAPTER22
LOGAN
My knee bounces as the line tries to connect to Kaplan.
I’m a grown ass man who can make his own decisions, and actually my decision is already made. But I do need to send a message to the PR and marketing team that I’m not some pushover who is going to say yes to whatever they propose. I have an agent who looks out for my best interests and who needs to be part of the decision.
Ish. I’m still kinda pissed at Kaplan.
“Good morning, Logan,” he says in his peppy way.
“Hey,” I say in return. “Something came up from the PR team that I thought you should know.”
Immediately that makes his tone shift. “Oh, no. Please don’t tell me that someone took pictures of you doing something illegal or compromising. I already have enough of that with another client.”
“You really think I’m the type of guy to, I don’t know, speed on my bike while drunk and naked?” I ask in a deadpan. Like shit, I know I live in Florida but I haven’t turned into a Florida Man quite yet.
“Well, no.” He settles a bit. “Then what’s up?”
“SPORTYwants to do a feature with me and… and the social media manager.”
After a bout of silence, he says, “The same social media manager who I declined the offer of a publicity stunt with, but you went ahead with all on your own?”
“Uh huh. That one.” I lean back on the chair and it emits a terrible squeak like I could break it any second.
“Do you want to do it?”
“Yes,” I respond.
“Why?”
Huffing, I sit with the question for a good moment.
There’s no real reason. Women don’t harass me regularly enough to need the permanent services of a fake girlfriend who can keep them off me. Yes, I feel kind of shitty that the association with me has dealt her so much hate on the internet, but I also could snuff that with a simple statement on my own social media accounts. Or through Kaplan, in fact.
I just… I want to. But that’s not a good enough answer for my agent or, frankly, for myself.
Then something clicks. I bend forward to rest my elbows on the table and speak closer to the phone. “Here’s the thing. I don’t have a firm prospect to trade to. I think it’s important that in the meantime I keep playing along with the team and not stirring the pot.”
“That’s awfully nice for a guy who has cut off other teams cold turkey.” He gives out a humorless chuckle. “Are you sure that deep down you don’t want to stay?”
“No,” I say vehemently. “I don’t want to stay. There’s nothing here to stay for.”
“Call me back when you don’t have to convince yourself of that,” he says sarcastically.
I snap back. “And you call me back when you have a real deal to consider.”
He grunts. I do the same. And we end the call like the mature men we are.
