Page 93 of The Nanny and the Beefcake
“Champ, they want Libby,” Briggs answered. “If you go out there, they’ll wait until they can see her. This way, we’re in control,” the man replied, then let out a self-congratulatory harrumph.
“What’s that for, Briggs?” What did the posh bloke have to be harrumphing about?
“I threw that spiritual advisor mumbo-jumbo together on the fly. It could have flopped. The press could have called our bluff. But no, they’re buying it, and they want more. I quite deserve a pat on the back.”
“For lying to the press?” Libby asked.
Briggs shook his head. “I didn’t lie. I crafted a narrative around an unfortunate set of events. Honestly, Miss Lamb, I thought you might be deranged. What an amazing turn of fate that you’re not completely off your rocker. And, thanks to Sebastian, the press knows that you’ve been using your spiritual yoga skills to help train the Lion.” Briggs beamed, doing a little jig—a bloody jig. The guy was positively buzzing with excitement.
Libby twisted the corner of her curtain scarf nervously. “About the whole spiritual advisor position…”
“Just be yourself, Libby,” Briggs interrupted, “but at the same time, bring your A game. We’ve got major sports media outlets here.”
This was too much.
Raz shook his head. “Briggs,” he hissed, getting in his agent’s face. “Libby didn’t sign up for this. This is my world. This is my fight.”
“Listen, Raz,” the man answered, raising his hands defensively. “I understand, but in this business, you’ve got to be able to pivot at a moment’s notice. That’s what I did after the incident in front of Aug’s gym, and that’s what we have to do now. This was supposed to be a quick photo shoot with you and Aug in your mountain training location. Then your son mentioned a special yoga regimen, and the press glommed on to it—hook, line, and sinker. We need to go with it. I’m sure there are people out there still skeptical about us calling that event outside Aug’s gym a new-age training technique. Today, Libby controls the story. They want her.”
He hated to admit it, but Briggs had a point.
“They’re not expecting me to throw things at Raz, are they?” Libby asked. “I brought thedeviceswith me, but I don’t think it would be appropriate to use them in front of Sebastian. And as we learned back in Denver, it’s a crime to throw sex toys in public. I don’t want to get arrested again.”
Raz’s jaw dropped. “You brought them? You packed sixteen vibrators?”
“I wasn’t about to leave them in Denver,” Libby whispered, wide-eyed. “What if someone found them? What if your grandmother or some of Madelyn’s people saw them? What would they think?”
“I get it. I get it,” Raz conceded.
Briggs waved them off. “It’s no secret that you’ve got them. Astronauts reenacted that scene in space—great exposure, by the way. Masterful PR! Pay-Per-View sales spiked like I’ve never seen. Thanks to the show you put on outside the gym, the championship fight between the Lion and the Snake may be the most-watched TV event ever. And like I said, the online betting alone is astronomical.”
Libby crossed her arms. “Listen, I’m willing to help in whatever way I can, but I won’t go out there and throw vibrators at Raz to improve gambling.”
“We’re not doing that, Briggs,” Raz said, picking up on the shift in Libby’s energy. Her uneasiness had changed to simmering anger.
“Forget throwing things. That’s not even what they want to see. Show them the yoga techniques Sebastian mentioned. That is what you were doing locked in that room, right?”
“Right,” he and Libby chimed in unison.
“Brilliant! Demo that. But only give them a sneak peek. Don’t give too much away. We don’t want Silas Scott’s people to pick up any tips,” the agent added.
Raz pinched the bridge of his nose. This would be a bloody terrific idea, aside from the fact that the special noisy yoga Sebastian announced to the press didn’t even exist.
“About that special yoga regimen I’m implementing with Raz,” Libby began, but Briggs had checked out of the conversation. The man swung open the front door to an onslaught of reporters lobbing questions.
“Raz, what do I do?” she asked, but before he could respond, Briggs gestured for them to exit the house.
They left the confines of the Victorian. Luckily, the porch was enormous, allowing them to hang back in the cover of shade as Briggs addressed the media from the front steps.
“Thank you for waiting so patiently,” the agent crooned. “We don’t want to cut into the champ’s training time too much, but we’re thrilled to give you a taste of the Lion’s mountain training regimen. As you know, Erasmus Cress is taking a multifaceted approach to prepare for the upcoming fight. Working with his longtime trainer, Augie Bimston, and his spiritual advisor and private yogi, Libby Lamb, the Snake, Silas Scott, doesn’t have a chance against London’s Lion. Now enough of me, I give you the Lion and the Lamb,” he announced like a bloody carnival barker.
Libby’s shoulder brushed against him, and with that brief skin-on-skin contact, the primal urge to wrap his arms around her and shield her from the sea of cameras nearly overtook him. He knew this game. He’d played it for years, but there was something very different about what was happening now. He reined himself in and looked on as confusion and shock welled in her eyes.
He understood her reaction. What was she supposed to say to the press? He wanted to help, but he was the last person to counsel her on yoga and spirituality. As far as he was concerned, it was a colossal waste of time for a boxer to indulge in stretching and screwing around with gongs.
And time wasn’t exactly on his side.
The fight was a little more than six weeks away. That was barely a blip when it came to training. A knot formed in his stomach, and his pulse kicked up.
