Page 27 of For the Boys
Both his agent and business manager had strongly urged him to find investors for financial backing so he wouldn’t be on the hook for everything, but this was Brent and Mackenzie’s baby. He wanted to pour his blood, sweat, tears, and money into the business. He wanted it to belong fully to him and his sister.
Today, Brent had a photoshoot at a local gym where he would showcase the products from the first line, which included cold-weather athletic gear for all types of physical activity. The launch was slated for the end of November. As a co-founder, Brent was the face of the men’s campaign. Anna Hartley, a forward from Detroit’s professional women’s soccer team, was representing the women’s line.
The photographer assured Brent that Anna would be the perfect subject. Her silky auburn tresses, upturned nose, and cat-like eyes would show customers that even pretty girls sweat. Brent didn’t typically book shoots on game days, but the ad campaign deadlines were looming closer. Syncing schedules for two professional athletes was nearly impossible, and today was the only day that worked.
Anna breezed through the door to the gym Brent had commandeered and pushed her sunglasses atop her head, a wide, pearly white smile directed at everyone she passed. She was in her early twenties, and the size of her quads made it immediately obvious which sport she played. She was close to six feet tall, with long hair hanging loose around her shoulders.
“Anna Hartley,” she said, extending her hand to Brent. “It’s great to finally meet you.”
Brent shook her hand, unsurprised by her strong grip. “Great to meet you too.”
“Thank you so much for bringing me on for this,” she said. “I’m really excited to work with you.”
“Of course. You’re young and athletic and the face of a franchise that’s getting a ton of press right now. It was really a no-brainer.”
“Well, I’m excited to be here.”
“I’m really happy you signed on. You saved my ass for sure.”
“How so?” Anna asked, tipping her head to the side.
“Well, I can’t exactly do the shoot for the women’s line myself.”
Anna laughed. “I’m sure a lot of people would pay good money to see that.”
Brent winced. “It wouldn’t be pretty. I am not built for leggings and sports bras. Plus my business manager and agent both stressed the necessity of a recognizable female face to launch this brand with me.”
“Glad my face could be of service,” Anna said, giving him a cheesy smile and a wink.
Brent turned away quickly. “Right,” he said. “Thankfully the gym let me close the place down for the day. Everything is set up in the women’s locker room for you. I hired a hair and makeup team and all that jazz. Meet me back out here when you’re ready.”
Anna gave him a thumbs-up and disappeared through the door to the women’s locker room.
Brent heaved a sigh of relief. She was here, and this shoot was getting done.Thank God.
He hurried into the men’s locker room and sat down on one of the benches. His own team of hair and makeup artists descended upon him.
“My lord, you have the best hair,” one of them said, running her hands through it.
“And flawless skin,” another added.
“I would kill for skin this nice. What skincare do you use?”
Brent stared. “Uhh…nothing fancy. Just drugstore stuff.”
The women gasped. “Ridiculous,” one said, then sighed. “Men have it so easy.”
Brent snorted, but hehadbeen blessed with nice skin.
After his hair was styled with product and his face and neck sprayed with mist to mimic sweat, he was ready.
Upon stepping out of the locker room, he found the photographer had arrived. He spent the next ten minutes going over his vision, and just as they wrapped up mapping out all of the shots, Anna emerged from the locker room. She was wearing her first outfit of the shoot, a tight-fitting long-sleeve workout crop top in burnt orange with matching leggings.
“Are you ready to do this?” Brent asked her when she approached him.
Anna bobbed her head, ponytail swishing back and forth. “Definitely. I’ll take it easy on you though,” she said with a wink. “I know you’ve got a game later.”
“Normally I would challenge you,” Brent said as they walked toward the squat rack. “But you’re right.”
