Page 39 of Risky Match
I smile at the subtle support from Blake.
Fausto serves our main course as Noah says, “Sure thing. Do you have the gifts for Chris and David? You’re scheduled to present them at the sponsor event in a few days.”
Blake ignores him.
While I consider how to change the tone of the conversation, I take a bite of the aubergine. The flavors explode in my mouth as the spicy marinara sauce hits my taste buds. The light crunch of the breading quickly gives way to the unctuous smoothness of the vegetable. “Mmm.”
Blake turns to me. “Did you say something?”
“Just enjoying the food. It’s not on my typical diet during a tournament, but you should at least taste it,” I say, offering him a forkful.
“No, thanks.”
“Okay. What’s the sauce on your salmon?”
“Lemon and probably white wine. It’s good.”
“Hopefully, Fausto will make it for all of us one evening. And don’t worry, I’ll have another conversation with him about the type of food we need. He’s new to my staff. My parents hired him. Whoever briefed him must have conveyed the wrong instructions.”
Noah grimaces, clearly annoyed that Blake ignored him to talk with me. “Can we skip the food talk and let Blake answer my questions? Do you have the gifts for Chris and David?”
“Remind me which stuff he wants? Was it shoes or racquets?” Blake asks.
Josh asks, “Wasn’t it both?”
“This is important. You should have two pairs of shoes and two racquets for him. He also wants to take photos with you and the trophy from your latest win. You can’t just ignore the business side of tennis. Your sponsors pay the bills,” Noah growls.
Blake clenches his jaw, and the air crackles with tension.
“Back off. I have the crap they want, and I’ll pose for the photos. Now, drop it.”
“Who’s the sponsor?” I ask Noah, hoping to take the focus off Blake. He needs a minute to cool off.
“It’s really two sponsors. David is CEO of ProLuxe, and Chris is CEO of WheelCovers” Noah says.
“WheelCovers makes high-end tennis shoes, but I don’t think I’ve heard of ProLuxe. What do they do?” I ask.
“It’s a travel company that books luxury excursions to the top athletic events around the world. They have a high-end clientele,” Noah says.
“That’s interesting. Do the owners of the companies collect tennis memorabilia?”
“Not really. They’ll use the photos with Blake, along with the shoes and racquets, as gifts for their best clients.”
Trying to draw Blake back into the conversation, I ask, “Blake, have you, Josh, Noah, and Natalie worked together for long?”
Before he can answer, Natalie says, “Oh no. I’m new to the team. I knew Josh before, but Noah and I just met tonight.”
“Well, I’m sure we’ll all be good friends before the next two weeks are over,” I say.
“Absolutely,” Noah agrees, returning to his overly happy self as if he hadn’t just growled at his client.
I’m not sure what to think of him. His quick mood swings would annoy me, but I guess he’s good at promoting Blake and managing his career. Blake certainly has a vast array of sponsors paying him top dollar.
Fausto interrupts my thoughts when he arrives at the table with tiramisu. Blake and I excuse ourselves, deciding to skip dessert. But the others stay behind to enjoy it.
As I’m walking upstairs, I text Fausto.
Me.: Let me know if you hear anything interesting.
