Page 71 of Break Point
“Anyway, I called Vlad the second your dad confirmed you slept over at Gemma’s. But not you, though,” Drew says, nodding at Henry. “Your whereabouts are still a mystery.” Hetsks. “But y’all know Vlad. Man of few words. Although, he did mention you hadquitethe night.”
I glare at Henry, but he’s smart enough to keep his gaze on Drew. This makes me feel like I don’t know him anymore all over again, and I hate that feeling.
Drew narrows his eyes at us with suspicion. “Unless the two of you …” He drags a finger back and forth between us. “You know …”
“No!” Henry and I exclaim at the same time.
“No,” I say again, trying to sound calmer.
“Good,” Drew says in a serious tone, flattening his tie with his hand. “One less thing to worry about. Joe wouldn’t be thrilled if you two got involved, that much I know.” He shakes his head, pressing a hand to his forehead. “Silly me. For a second there, I forgot about Liam.”
“Liam and I broke up this morning,” I say before I can second-guess it, clearing my throat to keep the lump from choking me up. Even if it was for the best, thinking about losing him, and how much I hurt him, still makes my chest tighten.
“Ah, good to know.” He laces his fingers, setting them on the table like we’re about to sign a peace treaty. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
“It’s fine,” I say, brushing off the ache before it can tighten its grip on me, shifting back to the real issue. “Listen, I don’t know what Vlad told you, but I do have an upset stomach. I ate a chili dog at the party.”
Drew chuckles. “So, you’re telling me you fainted at practice because you ate chili last night?” He scoffs. “Girl, you’re half Mexican. Chili ain’t got nothin’ on you.”
Drew likes to think of himself as half agent, half babysitter. I get it, he’s known me since I was born and he’s loyal to my dad. But mostly, he’s a busybody who loves meddling in everyone’s business, especially mine. Still, I love Drew. That’s why it’s so damn hard to stay mad at him.
There’s no use denying the obvious.
“Okay,” I admit, deflated, leaning in and lowering my voice. “I had a couple of drinks, but they didn’t agree with me. Please don’t tell my dad.”
“Y’all’s secret is safe with me.” Drew winks, pointing his fork at Henry and me before stabbing a piece of fruit.
“I don’t drink,” Henry says, his voice edged with irritation.
“Good for you, man.” Drew bobs his head and takes a sip of his coffee before turning back to me. “Aight, babycakes. Time to talk business.”
“Just spill it,” I say. “All this buildup is making me anxious.”
“Neel Ultex called,” Drew says, setting his cup back on the table with a grin. “They want you back. I’ve been handling the details, but your dad has to sign off.”
“You’re kidding.” My eyes widen. Iwantto be excited, but the weight of it presses down on me. I don’t deserve the sponsorship back, not after everything.
My head feels like it might explode while I process the news, but before I can dwell on it, Bobby returns, pouring fresh coffee into our cups and refilling Drew’s.
“Thanks,” Henry says with a polite nod, bringing his cup to his lips.
“I’ll be right back with your food,” Bobby replies, turning on his heel.
“I kid you not.” Drew’s smile is wide, bright, and practically glowing with pride. I can see the dollar signs flashing in his eyes. Neel Ultex is one of my juiciest sponsors.
“They never announced the termination of the sponsorship to the public,” Drew continues. “I was informed, sure, but the paperwork never arrived. I found it odd, but I let it be.”
“So, what happened?” I ask, savoring that glorious first sip of coffee, waiting for the caffeine to work its magic. “What made them change their mind?”
“Sales skyrocketed after the incident at the Open because you went after that racket like your life depended on it, and it didn’t bend or break. Competitors are already calling it a PR stunt, and now Neel Ultex wants to shoot a commercial with you in it titled:Stronger Than Ever.” Drew sweeps his hands through the air, tracing an invisible rainbow while speaking the words. “Like next week.”
Theatrics on point, as expected.
“This decision is perfect for damage control,” he continues. “Makesmy life easier when it comes to cleaning up your image and all that.” He whistles with relief. “My phone is blowing up with calls from media outlets, all desperate to know if it was a PR stunt or not.”
He claps once and lets out a wicked little laugh.
“And what are you telling them?” I ask.
