“Save them for the airport when you see your boy.”
My heart stutters at the thought. Trey Domata is one of the guys flying in today. Him and Brylan Reed, a tight end from Arizona State. Hollis is Reed’s agent, meaning I get to escort Domata. After years of watching him, studying him, and months of fighting for him, I finally get to meet him. I’m nervous like a girl going on a first date. I try not to think about it, but just the mention of him has tied my stomach into knots.
“He’s not my boy,” I remind Hollis.
His lips tighten in a thin line. “Yeah, I know.”
“It’s fine. Don’t get worked up about it again.”
“It’s bullshit. You should have had it out with your dad for that.”
“He signed Domata. That’s all I care about.”
Hollis looks at me impatiently. “You wanted to sign him. You put in all of the work, and he swooped in and took him as his client. It’s bullshit.”
I nod reluctantly. “It’s kind of bullshit.”
“It’s a steaming pile of it.”
“Do you want to know the best part?”
“What?”
“He’s not going to be here today. Or tomorrow. Or the entire time Domata is at the Combine.”
“That doesn’t surprise me as much as it should. Where is he?”
“North Carolina. It was Michael Jordan’s birthday last week. He and mom are going to celebrate with Michael and Yvette.”
“Of course they are.”
I smile at his sarcasm. “Hopefully Trey is a Jordan fan, otherwise he might be kind of pissed his agent isn’t here.”
Hollis nudges my shoulder with his. “He’s better off this way.”
“God, I really hope so.”
“Don’t lose your balls now. They’re what I love most about you, Ashford.”
I grimace. “I really need to marry you already so I can take your last name.”
“I’m ready when you are, Mrs. Kane.”
“You just want me for my inheritance.”
Hollis leans over to kiss me gently on the temple. “Yes.”
I laugh, leaning into him. Laying my head on his shoulder and letting the steady jostle of the van rock me into a stupor. I feel safe like that, leaned up against Hollis. He’s the big brother I always wanted. The big gay brother who hides so deep in the closet he can barely see the light outside. It breaks my heart to think about. To know all of the things he’s missing out on while he’s hiding behind his fear.
It wouldn’t ruin his career at the firm if everyone found out he was gay. Brad already knows and he doesn’t care, no one else in the office would either. But the clients might. He could lose people, because the NBA and the NFL are our biggest signs and they’re also a boy’s club. I struggle enough as a woman in this man’s world, but ask an NFL linebacker if he wants to work with a woman or a gay guy and he’s probably going to pick the woman and punch the gay. Or he’s going to pick another firm entirely. One with more men, all older and straighter and rich as shit, because that’s the lie people always believe; if you already have money, you know how to make more.
And everyone always wants more.
NFL Combine Day #1
Indianapolis International Airport
I forgot to pack my headphones. I realized it when we were in the air leaving L.A. When we made our connection in Denver I checked the shops, trying to buy a new pair, but all they had were Bose and Beats. A hundred and fifty bucks minimum. Even if I was willing to drop that much on emergency headphones, I don’t have the cash on me. And suddenly that uncashed check in my wallet feels huge, like it’s weighing me down. Like it’s laughing at me.
It’s a stupid mistake, one I’ll pay for at the Combine. My music is how I get into the zone. It’s how I cool off and calm down, tuning out the world. I can’t function on the field feeling the way I do now; all emotion. Pure thought and worry and anxiety. I need the numb and I’ll never find it here. Not without my music. And now here I am two thousand miles away from Tish and every other girl on my roster, about to enter into an intensive program full of dudes. No girls.
I can’t even get right the wrong way.
By the time we land in Indianapolis I’ve heavily considered draining my bank account to go buy a new pair of Beats, no matter how wasteful it feels. I’m eyeing the shops, checking out my options, when I hear my name in the empty corridor.
“Trey.”
I turn to find the warmest, brownest eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. That’s the first thing I notice about her; her eyes. It speaks volumes to their appeal because the rest of her is insane. Tan skin, blond hair, full breasts, and a tiny waist above long legs. They’re hidden under the dark pants she’s wearing, her clothes all business. Her smile though, that’s something else. It’s playful and pink. A party waiting to happen.