Page 22 of Roughing the Player
“How did the move go?” he asks.
“We have a problem.” Even to my own ears, my voice sounds strained. But it can’t be helped. “Can I come to your office to explain?”
“Can it wait? I have a client coming in fifteen minutes.” He’s not in a good mood. I can tell.
“No. Sorry. I’ll make it quick.”
“Fine.” Going by his snippy tone, he’s not pleased with me. But this is something he has to know. After all, Brock Parker is his client.
With no time to waste, I mad dash it to his office.
I barely have time to sit before he’s demanding. “What happened? Did something break or get damaged?” he grunts.
“No.” At least as far as I know.
“So what is it?” he barks out.
“Umm, did you know Brock has a party room?”
“Like a billiard table and a bar?”
My face flushes with heat. “Like handcuffs, whips, and chains.”
He sits up ramrod straight, and his chair bounces behind him. “No. I did not. How do you know this? You weren’t supposed to unpack.”
“The movers dropped a box containing his, err, toys, and the contents spilled out all over the entrance to the condo building. Not only that, they paraded the bedposts to his orgy bed through the lobby as well.” I pause a moment to let that sink in. “The, err, restraints were still attached to the bed.”
“Restraints?”
Oh, God. Do I really need to explain? “Manacles and handcuffs attached to chains.”
His brow arches. Yeah, he might have been aware of Brock’s lifestyle, but he didn’t know the specifics.
“Those movers are idiots. What imbecile chose them?”
“They’re on our agency’s approved movers list. Don’t worry. I’ll have them removed and write a formal complaint, as well.”
“We should sue them. They’re supposed to be discreet.”
“I’ll get legal on it.” In my opinion, there’s not much legal can do. The damage is done.
“Did anybody notice?”
“Oh, they noticed all right. Some of the condo residents went so far as to snap pictures with their cells. Three guesses how long it will be before they show up on the internet.”
He rubs his pate, a sure sign he’s worried. “This is a disaster.”
Yep. That’s the word of the day.
“If word leaks out about this, that’s all the social media will talk about.”
“Exactly.”
“If that happens, God knows if the Outlaws would keep him. Wouldn’t be the first time they let go of a scandal-prone player.”
Scrunching his mouth, he rubs a thumb across his lower lip. For a few seconds, there’s nothing but silence.
I don’t interrupt his process but sit across from him with my hands clasped in front of me. I may be disgusted with Brock and his sex toys, but I don’t want his career to end, especially when I feel guilty enough already. Somehow I should have stopped what happened today.
