7. Charlie

Folding my arms, I sit back in my seat and watch as Marissa spreads out her papers and opens her computer. One thing is for sure. The woman has come prepared.

“First things first. I’m gonna be a hard-ass with you.” She looks at me with those intelligent hazel eyes. “You need to seriously buckle down if we’re going to change your image.”

“Ah, but where would the fun be in that?” I tease, grinning at her.

She frowns. “Clearly, we have our work cut out for us.”

“Let’s start by getting to know each other better.” I lean in closer, feeling my pulse quicken. “Tell me, Marissa. You seem to have your shit together. What’s someone like you doing as an assistant agent?”

She blushes slightly, caught off guard by my compliment. “Well, I’m still fairly new in the industry,” she admits, fiddling with her pen. “Isaac took me under his wing, but being his assistant has been… challenging.”

“Challenging? You deserve better. With your wit and charm, you should be running your own agency.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” she warns. “And didn’t we just talk about boundaries?”

I sit back. Yep, we sure did. And she’s right. We should be professional here.

I just couldn’t help myself, though. Seeing her in person is a hundred times better than gazing at a photo. Also, one of the ways I deal with stress is by letting loose with a beautiful woman.

Is that such a crime?

A waiter comes in to take our orders, and the second he leaves, Marissa clears her throat. “We have a lot of work to do if we want to rehaul your image and make you more likable.”

I nod. “I’m willing to do whatever needs to be done. Lay it on me.”

“Good.” She tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “First off, we need to work on your public persona. I think participating in charity events would be an excellent start. People love seeing celebrities give back.”

“Charity work, huh?” I picture myself at some fancy fundraiser. “I can do that.”

“Great. Additionally, it wouldn’t hurt for you to be seen doing more wholesome things. Maybe spend some time in your community or go back home to visit family and friends.”

“Sounds like a solid plan,” I say, genuinely impressed by her ideas.

She lights up. “Thank you. Here’s a list of local charities that would be good for you to volunteer with.”

As I take the paper from her, our fingers brush. Her touch sends a jolt of electricity through me, and I glance at her face to see if she feels it too. If she does, though, she gives no indication.

“And here is our contract for you to look over.” She slides the next paper over to me.

A mischievous grin spreads across my face as I ask, “So, does this mean you’re my agent?”

Marissa narrows her eyes, but there’s a hint of amusement in them. “We haven’t signed a contract yet,” she reminds me. “Right now, we’re on a trial run.”

“Of course,” I reply, nodding sagely. Still, I feel pleased at the thought that I might have won her over.

We finish the meeting by reviewing the game plan. I’ll sign up with a charity and have my mom come and visit so we can be seen together. Marissa will work on getting us meetings with teams.

Hopefully, come next season, I’ll be signed.

Our meal and meeting done, we stand up from our table, and I gesture for her to go first. She flashes me a small smile as she walks past, and I catch a whiff of her intoxicating perfume. My heart skips a beat as I follow her out of the restaurant.

“Thank you for visiting us,” the waiter says as he holds the door open for us. “I hope you both enjoyed your date.”

When we get to the sidewalk, Marissa’s face is flushed. “Date?” Marissa exclaims, looking incredulous.

I glance at her, wondering if she’s offended by the assumption. But then, her eyes widen, and it’s as though a lightbulb has suddenly turned on inside her head.

“That’s it,” she breathes.

“What’s it?” I ask, feeling a little lost.

“Charlie, that’s exactly what you need — a serious relationship to help change public perception of you.” She waves her hand in excitement.

I raise an eyebrow, unsure if I’m following.

“Are you suggesting I find a girlfriend?” I question, trying to wrap my head around the idea. It feels strange to think about getting into a relationship purely for the sake of my image.

Also, I’m not a relationship type of guy. Never have been and never will be.

“Think about it,” she says. “If people see you in a loving, committed relationship, they’ll start to see you in a new light. You’ll be more than just a playboy athlete — they’ll see the man behind the image.”

I contemplate her words, feeling a mixture of apprehension and intrigue. It’s true that my reputation precedes me, but could something as simple as a relationship change that?

Then again, I don’t have anything to lose, but I do have everything to win. I’m willing to do whatever Marissa thinks is best.

“Okay,” I say as we walk down the sidewalk. “Let’s give it a shot.”

“Great!” Marissa exclaims, clapping her hands together. “Now we just need to find you the perfect woman.”

A couple teenagers approach, but this time I welcome them forward and take a photo with them. Having Marissa on my team is already making me feel better, more hopeful.

“So now I just need to get myself a girlfriend,” I say in a low voice. We reach the end of the block, where my car is parked.

“Well… you don’t need a real girlfriend for this. It just has to look like you’re settling down with someone.”

I nod, understanding her point but still feeling uneasy about the whole thing. “But won’t people eventually figure it out if it’s not real?”

“Trust me,” she says, her eyes shining with confidence. “As long as you both play your parts well and maintain appearances, no one will question it.”

“Okay,” I concede, choosing to put faith in her expertise. “How do we find this perfect woman?”

Her lips twist as she thinks about it. “She needs to be someone who can handle the pressure of being in the public eye without cracking. Someone genuine and kind-hearted so people will see you’re capable of being with someone like that.”

A sudden realization dawns on me. “Why not you?” I ask, surprising even myself with the suggestion.

Her cheeks flush a vibrant pink, and for a moment, she seems at a loss for words. “Me? Charlie, I?—”

“Think about it,” I interrupt, eager to make my case. “We already know each other, and we both have a stake in this arrangement working out. Plus, you know all the ins and outs of the industry. Who better to navigate this with than you?”

She hesitates, clearly taken aback by my proposition. But as she considers it, I can see the gears turning in her head.

“You’re right,” she finally admits, her voice filled with determination. “If we’re going to do this, we need to be fully committed.”

“Exactly,” I agree, feeling a strange sense of relief at her acceptance. “So, are you in?”

She hesitates for just a moment longer before nodding. “I’m in. But we have to be clear about something.”

“Of course.” I suspect I already know what she’s about to say.

“Nothing is going to happen between us,” she says, her tone cool and resolute. “This is strictly professional. Understand?”

“Absolutely,” I assure her, although a pang of disappointment courses through me.

Again, I remind myself that this is business, and the end goal is to rehabilitate my public image. Marissa is simply a means to that end, and I can’t afford to blur those lines.

“Good,” she says, nodding curtly. “Now, there’s one more thing I need to do before this deal is official.”

“What’s that?” I ask, curious as to what else could possibly stand in our way.

“Isaac,” she explains, her shoulders tensing at his name. “He has to sign off on this plan. We both know how important his approval is to my career.”

“It is?”

“I… well, yes. It is. He’s my boss, after all.” She avoids my gaze, and I decide not to press further; she did tell me not to ask personal questions.

“Will he go for it?” I ask.

“I’m not sure,” she admits, her expression troubled. “But I’ll do my best to convince him.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” I say, genuinely invested in securing Isaac’s approval. After all, without it, my career might never recover.

“Thank you, Charlie,” she says softly, a ghost of a smile playing at the corners of her lips.

As we part ways, there’s a new pep in my step. Things are looking up.

Marissa might be stiff as a starched shirt, but I can already tell that she’s a brilliant agent — and, by consequence, hopefully my saving grace. The fact that we might be playing house is a bonus.

It will be fun, going around town with her on my arm. Maybe I’ll even get to kiss her once or twice. Because when it comes to this “relationship,” the boundaries are removed, right?

A whistle slipping from my lips, I jump into my car and take off, ready for all the good that’s coming next.