3. Cat

3

CAT

My phone blared in my ears.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

"Fucking hell." I wiped the sleep from my eyes as I sat up on my elbow, only to be smacked in the forehead with a pounding headache. I muttered under my breath, "Jesus."

Blinking the pain away, my shoulder aching as I moved, I grabbed the phone and read the caller ID: "Tommy".

"Finally." I pumped my fist and swiped right on the name. "Hey."

Clearing her throat, Tommy spoke, "Sorry for missing your calls. How are ya?"

I scoffed, she was bold as always. "Uh well, I'm in pain. But I want back in next season." It took a lot of effort to cover up my slightly slurred words, the night before having gotten out of hand again.

"Right." Tommy sighed, taking a minute to think.

My heart pounded in my chest as I waited for her to say something… anything.

Clicking her tongue, Tommy said, "Look, with your injury, I don't know if you'll ever qualify again. But more importantly, your reputation is in the garbage. The team wouldn't take you back even if they needed you. And after yesterday, they clearly don't."

"Ouch." I sat up, crossing my legs. My blackout curtains were mostly closed, keeping me in a dark sanctum of misery. Stretching for the remote, I opened the blinds and exposed my dank apartment to the late morning sun.

"I'm sorry, Catherine. But there's no point in protecting your feelings. I'm your agent, this is my job." Tommy paused. "Frankly, I've been urged to drop you. But I'm taking a cue from a colleague, and I'm not going to let you fade into oblivion. Which means, I need your help."

Nodding, I stood from my bed. I rubbed my temples and scrambled to find some painkillers, scattered liquor bottles obscuring the medicine from me.

"What do I need to do?"

Tommy chuckled. "Step one, sober up."

Smirking, I popped the ibuprofen bottle. "Who says I'm not?"

"The dozens of paparazzi photos of you partying with about five women in lower Manhattan last night." Tommy quipped.

Even through the phone, I could tell she was being won over by my charm again. All I had to do was keep her believing in me. With her connections, there was nothing I couldn't get.

After a second of silence, Tommy continued, "I need you cleaned up enough to book some ad spots. We need to raise your star power again. Ideally, you'd get some good pictures at the gym, maybe a salad restaurant."

I opened my mouth to answer but before I could speak, a guest room door swung open. Two half-naked women stumbled out from inside. Blinded by the light, they giggled and covered their eyes. They both wore tiny g-strings and whatever t-shirt they could find in the dresser.

Pressing my finger to my mouth, I shushed them.

Through the phone, Tommy sighed. "You know this is your last chance right? I can't keep going out on a limb for you, even if I believe in you as much as I do."

I let the sigh out of my lungs. Of course, a part of me knew. But I wasn't willing to accept it. If I lost Tommy's support, I'd be down to just one person: my brother. I wasn't even sure if he had my back at this point.

I bit my lip, considering whether I thought I could really stick to this promise.

But I didn't have much of a choice. It was this or oblivion.

"Okay. Tell the paps I'm going to the gym later."

I could hear Tommy's smile through the phone. "That's what I like to hear. Give me a few weeks of clean behavior and I'll start shopping ad spots."

"Consider it done." I nodded and hung up the phone. My eyes wandered to the girls on my sofa, my famed jersey hanging over their heads.

It's now or never.