Page 33 of On Merit Alone
“Okay.” He lingered for another second, dipping at the knee and surveying my gaze before letting me go. “Later, then.”
“Oh!” Moving quickly, I reached out before I forgot. Giving his shirt a gentle tug from the back. He stopped, looking down at my hand then at my eyes. “Good luck, Ira.”
He smiled. Not a half-smile or a crooked smile or even that cocky little smirk he often wore. No, he smiled big and bright and blinding as he reached around and hooked my finger with his own. He only squeezed gently before letting me go, but he might as well have grasped my whole hand the way it was tingling.
“Yeah, yeah,” he said, walking backward. “Just leave your binoculars at home this time, stalker.”
Oh, that little—he’d said that way louder than necessary. And of course I turned around to see my entire team hanging out of the locker room doorway, shamelessly watching us.
Carefully, I picked my way back toward them. I could tell by their gaping faces that they had so many questions, but I spoke first. Holding up the envelope of tickets lamely, I hunched my shoulders up and down in a universal ‘I dunno’ movement, saying, “Who wants to go see a playoff game?”
Chapter Ten
Merit
The Denver Defenderswon the third game of the playoff final series at home. And what did the star player, top scorer, and game MVP do when they got that win?
He turned toward the crowd, found where I was sitting, and saluted me like he’d done in the gym the other day. Smiling the entire time like he had not one care in the world.
The idiot.
But in my own more reserved way, I saluted him back.
I stared at Ryan as I tried to relay my discomfort with the current situation. He stared right back, not batting an eyelash. I’m not even sure his face moved. It was scary.
“Ryan, I don’t want to,” I said.
“I don’t remember asking you,” he said coolly, giving me those dark eyes.
“You didn’t, that’s precisely the problem. You’re my agent, yet youdon’t askwhen booking important appearances,” I said throughmy teeth. Usually, I trusted Ryan. I didn’t mind what he told me to do because, for the most part, what he told me to do was right.
I came into the organization at a pretty young age, having graduated with my degree but always being the youngest one on the team. That coupled with the fact that I had no one else to champion my well-being, Ryan had always looked out for me. He wasn’t that much older than I was, only about five years my senior, but he had a sort of presence about him that commanded respect. He always used that respect to take care of his clients. And he, being one of the only people in the organization to know the full story around my circumstances, often took my side on matters that might upset me.
Not this time, I guess. Especially as he leaned back in his chair with his ankle crossed over his knee. His eyes shifted to his phone and not me.
His voice was just as uninterested as his face as he deadpanned, “Don’t be a brat, Merit. You decided you wanted to tear the reporter a new one during a live interview. Now you have Captain Idiot on your ass and I have no other choice but to agree with him. Which I hate doing, by the way.”
I ground my teeth. “I didn’t tear her a new one.”
He flicked a look at me. It was not impressed. “She’s pregnant, Merit. Pregnant women, children, and veterans might as well be martyrs in the eyes of the press. They’ll always get a pass. Especially over cold, entitled professional athletes with bad attitudes.”
“I don’t like it when you parent, Ryan. I am a grown adult who pays you. Would it kill you to act like it?”
“Then try to refrain from acting like a child who doesn’t know how this business works. You act up, you have to make it up. End of story, Jones,” he clipped.
I chewed the inside of my mouth, irritated and not at all charmed by his attitude. The silence I exuded must have been pointed enough to penetrate the wall because, after a while, he sighed heavily and clicked his phone shut. Removing his ankle fromhis knee and setting his foot on the ground under him. Leaning forward, he set his forearms along his thighs and watched me. I stared back at him, unwavering. He sighed again, this time his fingers going up to pinch the bridge of his nose.
“Look, Merit. I know you’re going through a hard time. You don’t make trouble for me, ever. Which is why I am not just going to let that horrid excuse for a PR department take the lead on this. But we’ve got to work with them, at least for the start,” he said.
“Which means?”
“Which means doing a little bit of what you hate. Rob thinks you have an image problem. PR doesn’t know that the real image problem is if they put you in front of the wrong camera. I'm trying to work out a place for us all to meet in the middle.”
I glared. He had the nerve to glare back, adding, “What? You’re shit at interviews, and you know it.”
“I can do basketball interviews.”
“They don’t want basketball interviews. They want an explanation for your outburst,” he said.
