Page 2 of Playing for Possession
Rob blew out a breath. “You’re doing the commercial. This is coming from the board.”
“The fucking board. What do they know?”
Rob winced. “I apologize.”
Joanie gave an awkward cough and swept a strand of hair off her cheek.Shit.She was so quiet, I’d forgotten she was here.
“No worries.” She flashed a tight smile, but kept her gaze fixed on whatever it was she found so fascinating about the ballpoint pen in her hand.
Rob gave me a hard stare. Was he expecting me to apologize too?Fuck that.The silence grew heavy.
Rob let out a deep sigh. “You want to know what the board knows, Earnshaw? They know you’ve got a shitty attitude.” His disparaging gaze drifted over the tattoos on my neck. “And that you broke a man’s leg last season.”
“That was an unlucky tackle. You know it was a fair challenge.” My head ached. He did know, didn’t he?
Sadie swiveled her laptop to show me a packed spreadsheet with a myriad of columns highlighted in different colors.“Shall we get back on track? Let me tell you about Fizzz.”
She said the word as if I was supposed to have any clue what it meant. “I’m sorry?”
Sadie kept her tone light and breezy. “Fizzz. It’s a soft drink. One of our corporate sponsors.” She reached down under the table and pulled up a six-pack of blue cans, then stood and handed two cans across the table. “Try it.”
I waved it away. “No. Thanks.”
Rob sent me a withering look. “Try the fucking drink, Earnshaw.”
Jesus.Rob had not come here to play. Last night’s excesses were melting my brain, and I didn’t need Rob on my balls. I popped the ring pull and took a sip of repugnant syrupy blue liquid. Bubbles stung the back of my throat. It looked and tasted more like a dissolved bath bomb than a desirable beverage.
Sadie’s smile was polite and professional. “What do you think?”
I couldn’t lie. “Fizz is possibly the worst thing I’ve ever tasted.”
Joanie let out a little chuff of laughter before immediately smoothing her expression.
Sadie’s smile didn’t falter. “It’s Fizzz, actually. You’re not putting enough emphasis on the z’s.”
Seriously?I looked at Rob but he didn’t crack a smile. I held my hands up. “Apologies. This Fizzzzz”—I put so much emphasis on the z’s my lips buzzed—“is the worst thing I’ve ever tasted. The aftertaste is still going. Why is that? When is it going to stop?”
Joanie took a small sip. I watched her throat bob as she swallowed. A brief grimace twisted her pretty lips. I swiveled in my chair, waiting for her to comment, but she held herself stiffand upright, and didn’t say a word. What was she even doing here? What did Mortimer Fox’s daughter care about Fizzz? She could have her pick of endorsements. Her father had enough influence to ensure that.
“Wrong answer.” Rob’s sharp voice snapped me out of my reverie. “You are the face of Fizzz. You love it and you’re delighted to promote it. Luckily for you, you have a lifetime supply of the stuff, so you have plenty of time to grow to appreciate its... unique flavor.”
Unique flavor was one way of putting it. If the guys started calling me Fizzz, then I’d be walking out the door with a one-finger salute. I’d never live this down.
Sadie’s smile didn’t falter. “I don’t have the details on the commercial yet, but they are flying you out to Menorca to film it.”
Joanie’s mouth dropped open. “Menorca?”
She was probably disappointed it wasn’t somewhere more exotic. Of all the people to get teamed up with on this, it had to be Mortimer bloody Fox’s daughter. I could see the resemblance now. They shared the same high arched brow and quick, clever eyes. Sponsorship deals with corporations intent on rotting kids’ teeth and buzzing them to the eyeballs with caffeine were probably the norm for Joanie Fox.
Sadie closed the laptop. “Fizzz is a celebration of summer, and since summer lasts three days in England, they’re flying you somewhere you can celebrate. I’ll get you more details when I have them. I’m here if you have any questions.”
Rob stood and brushed down his suit. “Sounds great. You have our full cooperation. Whatever you need.” He gave me a warning look. “Right, Earnshaw?”
I withheld my sigh. If I was sensible, I’d get on board with it. Life was always easier when your manager didn’t hate your guts. But sometimes you had to take a stand. If I rolled over on this, what wasnext? Rob would have me like Sean Wallace, posing on a billboard with my junk shoved in Speedos.
I stood. “I appreciate the opportunity but it’s not for me. You’ll easily find someone else.”
Rob glared at me. “The board want you to be the face of Fizzz.”
