Chapter 17: Thad

Chapter 17

Thad

Onri:

Rent’s due.

Out of all my roommates, Onri is the pedantic one. His type A personality makes him need to pay bills as soon as they come in, and when it comes to rent, he’s adamant it has to be paid the day before, not the day of.

Josh:

I can get it to you this afternoon.

Gus:

I left it on your dresser this morning.

Sean:

Transferring it to your bank right now.

Of course, I’m the only one who’s going to let them all down.

Me:

I’ll have it by tomorrow. I promise.

I still don’t know how, but I have to because I can’t ask them to cover for me again.

The point of coming into the office this early was to avoid having to tell them I don’t have the money. Doesn’t make sense, considering I’ll be back at the loft tonight, but I don’t know what I’m going to do. At this point, I might have to sell my ass on a street corner. Though I don’t think I could earn enough to cover rent. Who’d pay seventeen hundred bucks for a turn of my ass?

My phone dings, and I expect it to be Onri full-naming me and asking why I like to stress him out, but it’s not. It’s one of my other roommates in a private message instead of the roommate chat thread.

Gus:

Need a loan, bro? I had a good week at the club and can cover you.

Gus is a bartender and has the flirting ability to make men and women throw their money at him. Most times, he has to work seven days a week to cover rent, but on the rare occasion, like obviously this week, he has some extra cash to burn, and I could really do with the handout, but my stupid pride has me hesitating. I can’t keep taking money from my roommates, who are also struggling financially.

Josh made it onto a high-A Minor League Baseball team in Brooklyn, which is amazing for him, and I probably could have made that league as well, but it seriously pays less than my internship.

Onri is in a similar position to me, an intern at a big corporate company, but for sportscasting.

And Sean, he’s a bit lost with what he wants to do with his life, but he’s lucky enough to have a small trust fund to live off. He has about enough money to last a year, and he’s calling it his gap year, but we’re about five months in, and he hasn’t done much but play video games and try entry-level jobs at places where he lasts a few weeks before crossing that career path off his murder board. Okay, so he actually calls it a vision board, but I dunno. Looks like one of those crime scene boards detectives use to solve crimes.

I’m still staring at my phone, contemplating taking Gus up on his offer, when Damon walks in and scares the crap out of me.

“You’re in early, St. James.”

I drop my phone to my desk and probably look like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Early worm and all that.”

Damon smiles back at me. “Good work. Can I see you in my office for a moment?”

Oh, fuck.

It’s the first time I’ve been back in the office since I went home to help my parents. It took nearly the whole Friday afternoon to get it all straightened out, and so I stayed that night and didn’t come back until Saturday afternoon. We sometimes have to come in on a Saturday because there is always work to be done, files to be filed, and all that runaround bitch work, but we’re usually notified ahead of time. I don’t think I was supposed to come in on Saturday, but maybe I missed an email.

“You’re not in trouble,” Damon says, and I swear he’s trying to smother a chuckle.

I stand and follow him into his office, more relaxed now but also confused.

“Kelley Afton came to see me on Friday,” he says, and I almost trip over my feet. I try to cover it by casually slinking into the seat in front of his desk, but he’s still wearing that amused expression that he’s trying to squash.

I’m hopeful Kelley didn’t break and tell Damon exactly what happened between us, but I’m assuming if he did, Damon wouldn’t have said I’m not in trouble. Or maybe he would so he could lull me into a false sense of security because maybe he’s a secret sadist and likes to inflict emotional pain on his employees.

Damon takes his seat opposite me and leans back in his seat. “So, I heard he was a bit of a handful in the beginning.”

Oh, shit, did Kelley end up filing that complaint about me?

“Uh, he?—”

“You don’t need to worry,” Damon says. “He only had good things to say about you. Well, mostly good.”

I swallow thickly. “Mostly?” My heart starts racing.

“He did say that you and him wouldn’t be a good fit to work together, but only because you differ in management styles. Players like Kelley Afton need a soft hand, and you’re more of an old-school kind of agent.”

I frown. “Old-school?”

“Tough love,” he clarifies.

I rub the back of my neck. “I’d like to think I wasn’t entirely a tough-love kind of person to him, but I understand where he’s coming from.”

“Something you’ll learn as you get further into this business is that not everyone is going to be a fit for you. Personality differences can be a major snag in building relationships with clients, but I guarantee that you’ll find the right clients for you. It’s a matter of figuring out your particular management style and selling that to potential clients. You’ve been around athletes, so you know that some can have an ego and be sensitive, but I’m sure you also know there are those of us who thrive on being pushed, and if you’re going to be that type of agent, you will have plenty of clients to choose from.”

Okay, so if I’m understanding this correctly, he’s telling me I have the potential to be a good sports agent, just not for Kelley. I’m totally okay with that because Kelley and I already had that discussion, and after the first few days together, it was obvious I could never work for him.

“The other thing Kelley left me with was that he wanted to give you a bonus check for all the help you did give him.”

A what?

“Bonus cash, I should say. It’s not a check.”

“A bonus? Is it normal for clients to do that?”

“It’s not usual, no, and I had to inform him that we need to tell you it is from him and not from the company. Under normal circumstances, it might be different, but Kelley Afton isn’t a typical client, and if you were his agent, babysitting him for two weeks would never have been part of the deal, so I’m giving some wiggle room here.”

It would be wrong to accept this. I don’t even know how much cash there is, but it’s ethically gray to take it. Even though I’m fucking desperate for money .

“You don’t have to accept it,” Damon says, and even though he says that and my gut tells me not to, the thing is … I think I have to.

“Not going to lie. It makes me somewhat uncomfortable, and I’m not sure why he’d do it when he said himself I’m not a good fit?—”

“He did say you helped him immensely. I got the impression he was feeling somewhat guilty over choosing to ask Brady to join his team instead of you.”

“He has nothing to feel guilty about. I understood that. But …” I bite my lip.

“But what?”

“I don’t like bringing personal stuff into work. My parents have had some money issues lately, and I’ve been helping them out, so … even though it feels wrong, I could really do with that money.”

Damon unlocks the top drawer of his desk and pulls out an envelope. A thick-ass envelope. “You can take this. It’s yours, and if you’re worried I’ll think any less of you for taking it, you’re wrong. Many others in your position would have taken it, no questions asked. Hell, back when I was an intern, you wouldn’t believe the things I did to get ahead.”

“Murder other interns?” I ask.

He laughs. “No. Nothing like that. But I once agreed to fake date a guy in exchange for a meeting with his brother-in-law, who happened to be a famous hockey player.”

That makes me smile. “No way. What happened?”

“You’ve met my partner, Maddox, haven’t you? He happened. He was my fake date.”

Aww, that’s actually a really sweet story.

Damon pushes the envelope across the desk. “Take it, and take care of that family of yours.”

Hesitantly, I reach for it. “Thank you.”

“And if your family is in a lot of trouble, I’d much rather you come to me and ask for an advance on your income or even offer you a loan you can pay back once you’re a junior agent. We can work something out.”

I don’t know why I’m so intimidated around Damon King. Sure, he’s built this entire sporting empire, but he’s an amazing man to work for. “I didn’t realize that was a possibility.” It had passed through my head, but I didn’t want to be looked down on. He’s doing anything but judging me right now.

“I’d much rather you put in the extra hours here or sign away some of your future commissions than have to go out and get a second job and get distracted from your goal of making it as an agent.”

I nod. “Hopefully, it won’t come to needing to take you up on your offer, but I’m grateful for it anyway.” I stand. “And thank you for this.”

“I’m not the one who needs thanking. I was just the messenger.”

Right. I need to thank Kelley somehow.

Damon thinks the money is because of guilt over Kelley not wanting me as his agent, but all I’m thinking about is the way he overheard me talking to my parents. He knows I’m in financial trouble, and if this is some kind of handout for that, I don’t want it at all.

Will I take it? I don’t really have a choice at this point unless I want to burden my roommates with my issues. But it doesn’t mean I like it. Even if I’m touched he wants to help.

Ergh. This money has me all jumbled. It’s wrong, but I need it. I don’t want it, but I do at the same time.

I get back to my cubicle and open the envelope.

Holy shit.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

I thought it was so thick because it must have been small bills, but no. They’re all crisp hundreds and fifties.

Paranoid, I quickly glance around the still-empty office. I have no idea how much is in there, and no way am I taking it out here to count it, but it’s too much. Way too much.

Seeing as Kelley isn’t my client, I don’t have his contact information on my phone already, but it will be in the database.

I have to more than thank him for this. Or at least send half of it back .

I pull up his file, and while he has an email address, I’m not so sure who has access to it. It might be the publicist for Philly who checks them.

So I grab the phone number off my screen and just hope it’ll be him who answers.

With it still being early and no one in the office, I don’t bother going outside to call. It rings out, and I’m frustrated, but it’s Kelley. I’m sure he’s used to not answering phone calls from unknown numbers. I could use the work phone as he’d know King Sports’ number, but it’s a bit icky to me and unprofessional. Even though I’m calling him about a professional matter—this bonus is, after all, supposed to be for the help I gave him—I don’t feel right about it.

So I settle for text instead and hope that it’s his direct number.

Me:

I don’t know whether I should be offended or flattered about the “bonus” you gave my boss to give to me.

I really want to say it makes me feel like an expensive whore, but again, I can’t be sure this message is going direct to him. Also, I wouldn’t mean that in a negative way. Turns out, I might have found that someone who would be willing to fork over seventeen hundred dollars for my ass and then some. I really should be more offended than I am.

When my phone starts ringing a second later with his number, my gut swoops, and my heart flutters.

I can’t help smiling as I hit Answer.