3
Seeing Noah again as my new client is a shock. Our meeting at the bar was not only too short, but also incredibly awkward. I had hoped he would come back so we could talk some more. But Marina suddenly felt sick. An unpleasant side effect of pregnancy. So, she asked me to drive her home.
I”ve been thinking about Noah for the past few days. Now he”s standing in my office and wants me to represent him from now on. At least that”s what I think. I never expected him to be a professional athlete, let alone the quarterback of the Boston Foxes. I have to say that I”m not particularly interested in football. The players are just people like you and me. Not demigods, as many fans like to claim. Their private lives interest me even less. Noah is supposed to get the Foxes back on track this season and take over from my dad. I”ve heard his name a few times because my dad has nothing else to talk about at the moment. I wish I had listened to him more and googled the new quarterback. Then I would have known that Noah from the bar and Noah McCarter, quarterback of the Boston Foxes, are one and the same.
“Why don”t you take a seat,” I offer him timidly. “What can I get you to drink?”
Noah looks at me skeptically but says nothing as he sits down on the couch in my office. I take the documents and my MacBook off the desk and sit down in the chair next to him. Admittedly, he looks even better than he did a few days ago in the bar. The shadow of his beard is more pronounced, and his black shirt clings to his toned chest. The top buttons are undone, giving me a glimpse of his tanned skin. This man is incredibly sexy and handsome.
But he’s still a quarterback, so he is off-limits to me. I don”t want to organize my life around sports and their schedules, as my mother has done for almost thirty years.
“Nothing, thanks,” he says, smiling at me. Noah rests his forearms on his thighs. I notice he has a tattoo on his left wrist. An L and an A with a crown, I must admit that I really like it. I know he has at least one brother, named Alexander or as everyone calls him: Alex. He”s a running back for the Boston Foxes. Of course, I know that from my dad because he”s always raving about how the brothers play together.
“First of all, I”d like to talk to you about what you expect from us, and then I”ll tell you ...”, but as I begin to talk, I notice that he isn’t listening to me. “Is everything okay?”
“Honestly, no.” He clears his throat and rubs his hands together. “Don”t take this the wrong way, Ms. Corse, but I wasn”t expecting you. Are you just having this first conversation to get to know me, or are you planning on representing me in the future?”
I look at him a little surprised. I hadn”t expected this. Of course, I”m supposed to represent him in the future. He”s going to be my first big client, and I”m very proud of that. My dad wouldn”t put that much trust in me, and possibly even jeopardize the company”s good reputation if he didn”t have absolute confidence in my abilities.
“I don”t understand,” I whisper, lowering my pen. “Could you please be more precise?”
“Of course!” Noah looks at me firmly. “Corse Sports Managementwas recommended to me by my colleagues who have been consulting here for years.” I nod, but I know he”s not finished. “I made this appointment to get a first impression. Now I”m asking you if this is an introductory meeting or if you”re my new agent.”
“Would that be bad?” I blurt out rather unprofessionally.
“Yes!”
It”s like a slap in the face for me, and I”m completely flustered. Heat rises in my cheeks, and I feel uncomfortable because he doesn”t want to work with me. I”ve been preparing for this interview all morning because I want to prove to my father and myself that I”m in the right place, not because I”m going to own this company one day. I”m good at my job, and Noah McCarter is my ticket to the world of sports management. I thought because we”re the same age, we”d be similar, and we”d have a great working relationship for years to come. But now he”s taking the wind out of my sails.
“Oh, okay,” I whisper. “May I know why?”
“You”re too young,” he replies bluntly. “I need an experienced agent who knows the business and knows exactly what I need and what sums he has to negotiate for me. I don”t think you...”
“I can do it!” I blurt out.
His eyebrows rise skeptically. I feel unfairly treated by him and want a chance. “I mean, I know what I”m doing and what you expect of me.”
“How many clients have you taken care of?” he wants to know.
“I think that”s...” I try to evade his question.
“Give me a number,” he demands, and his gaze penetrates me. This has nothing to do with the friendly man in the bar who flirted with me. Sitting in front of me is a tough businessman and athlete who wants to be well represented.
Fuck.
Why didn”t my dad warn me? He knows what some of these guys are like, and yet he let me have this conversation. On the other hand, I shouldn”t have talked so big. I was bragging about how I was going to outplay that quarterback. I don”t give a shit, and now I”m embarrassing myself in front of him, again. Then later I will do the same with my dad, who will tell me he knew.
“I have ... well ... I am ...” I stammer to myself.
“So, none,” he concludes and stands up. I watch him as calmly as possible. When he stands in front of me at full height, I am overwhelmed by his presence. I didn”t feel that way in the bar.
“I”m sorry, but that”s not possible. I”m not going to be a guinea pig for the boss”s daughter.”
Now I stand up and stare at him angrily. That was definitely too much. Even though he still towers over me by at least twenty centimeters. It”s not fair to insinuate that I only have this job because my father owns the company.
“I went to the University of California for four years, I interned with the Oakland Pirates, and I know this fucking business better than you think. Don”t tell me you”re a guinea pig for my career because you think I’m ‘daddy’s girl’. I continue. “I”m going to own this company one day. Do you really think I want to put Corse Sports Managementor myself in a bad light?”
Noah opens his mouth and closes it.
“I”m good!” I make it clear again and look at him hard. “Give me a chance - please.” My tone softens at the end, and I point to the couch. “Sit down.” He hesitates, but when I sit down, he follows me.
“I”m sorry,” I mumble. “I shouldn”t have freaked out like I did, but I know what I”m doing. Why don”t you let me explain?”
“Go ahead, explain,” he repeats, his mouth twisting. “I fired my old agent because he explained too much and did too little. He negotiated bad deals, and that”s why my salary is what it is. I can”t imagine the daughter of Foxes legend Michael Corse negotiating a better salary for me.”
His blue eyes flash aggressively at me.
“Oh yeah?” I grin at him mischievously. “Why don”t you let me try?”
“Try,” he mumbles, shaking his head. “I wouldn”t want to embarrass myself in front of the new bosses.”
“Then keep your measly salary of ...” I open the documents. When I see the number next to his annual salary, I gasp. “Ten million dollars?”
“I wanted at least twelve million,” he counters.
“Of course,” I scoff, managing not to roll my eyes. “Noah, that”s insane. Your contract is for five years, you get millions in bonuses, and you”re the only player who gets an extra bonus if you win the Super Bowl. Which, as you know, you haven”t won yet. You can”t ask for more than that.”
“Why not?” he counters.
I seriously wonder which one of us is the supposed professional.
“Because it”s too bold,” I reply bluntly. “Do you know what the employees make? Maybe two thousand dollars a month. That”s what your shoes cost.” I point at his black oxfords. “Your salary is more than enough. Besides, you”ll look greedy when we try to negotiate new contracts, and you”ll fall out of favor with the fans and the bosses. Then they”ll boo you and question you. What do you think the Foxes bosses will do to you?”
“Hm.” Noah looks pensive and rubs his chin. “Maybe you”re not wrong.”
“Really?” I ask, looking at him with wide eyes.
“Yes!” he replies, rubbing his huge hands over his face. “Maybe my salary is enough, but you have to understand that I”m skeptical. This collaboration is not what I want!”
He looks at me and his gaze goes right through me.
I don”t understand his problem. I can do the job just as well as someone who has been in the business for thirty years. Maybe even better because I”m quicker to see the ravages of time. But Noah doesn”t seem to see it that way.
“Why?” I ask sourly. “Because I”m not fifty, I don’t have over thirty years of professional experience and I can’t show you a list of my clients. Just so you know, I”m no worse than they are.”
“I”m not saying you”re worse,” he replies tense. “You”re young and inexperienced.”
“And how am I supposed to gain experience if everyone I meet thinks like you?” I shake my head. “If you don”t want to work with me, that”s fine with me, but be honest about it.”
Noah doesn”t say anything again but stands up and runs his fingers through his hair. He paces up and down my office, which really annoys me. I”m not here to convince a spoiled quarterback to work with me. He has to want to, and if he doesn”t, I”m afraid I can”t help him. “Mr. McCarter,” I correct myself. “It”s not a problem for me, but we need to talk about it clearly now.”
“And we’re back to ‘Mr. McCarter’ now?” He grins at me, and I can”t help but grin back. Noah is right. It”s stupid of me to call him Mr. McCarter again.
“All right, Ms. Corse,” he says with a grin. “I”m really interested in working with Corse Sports Management, but I remain skeptical.”
I puff out my cheeks and tilt my head back.
“We”re not going to get anywhere like this,” I conclude.
“Go out with me,” he says suddenly, and I start to laugh.
“What?”
“Go out with me,” he asks again. “Tonight, you and me, dinner.”
“Why?” I ask, my eyes following him. Noah smiles and licks his lips with his tongue.
God, that’s sexy.
“Because that”s what I wanted to ask you at the bar. If you”d go out with me and I”d get your number.”
Now he has completely surprised me. This has nothing to do with a professional business meeting.
“Uh.” I”m at a loss for words. “I can”t do that because I don”t have a private relationship with my clients.”
“Then the decision is made,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I want the date. Without it, there will be no collaboration.”
“You”re kidding?” I gasp and stand up.
“No.”
“This is blackmail, Noah.” I brush my hair back anxiously. “You want to pick a date that could go badly over working for Corse Sports Management? Did I get that right?”
This guy is crazy. This is stupid, I think he got hit on the head one too many times during practice.
“I”m convinced that our date won”t go badly.” He sounds confident. “And so, yes. I”d rather get to know you than working with this company.”
“You”re crazy!” I blurt out uncontrollably again. You want to be professional and land a big fish, but instead you just start talking. And all because he wants a date? “This is getting completely out of hand,” I add much more thoughtfully.
“Why?” he asks.
“Why?” it shoots out of me again. “None of this was planned. I wanted to prove to myself and my dad that I could do this. Instead, you ask me out on a date, and I freak out. Now please don”t tell me that something hasn”t gotten out of hand.”
He doesn”t react and just looks at me.
“You convinced me,” he says, licking his lips as his eyes take a clearly ambiguous look at my body. The heat spreads through me again. I have to stay professional. No matter how hot I think he is.
“Noah!” I clench my hands and stare at him angrily. “I”m here as your new agent, not as dating material.”
“I like you better as dating material,” he purrs, and I roll my eyes.
“You”re impossible.”
“So, our date?” he insists, putting his hands on his hips. “And then we’ll see about collaborating professionally?”
“Are you blackmailing me?” My eyebrows knit inquiringly as my fingernails dig painfully into my palms. I feel like I’m boiling.
“Maybe,” he says, winking at me. “A little. We both get what we want. I get the date and you get your client. A classic win-win situation.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head. “I can”t do that. It”s unprofessional.”
Noah takes a step toward me and sighs.
“Cara,” he calls me by my first name for the first time and it sounds really nice. I look at him and, as expected, he is smiling. “Give yourself a break.”
“No,” I insist, causing him to roll his eyes. Noah walks over to my desk and leans against it. He crosses his arms over his chest.
“What”s this about, Noah?” I want to know. “I”m here to work, not to flirt.”
“Too bad,” he replies. “I like flirting with you.”
I groan inwardly. He”s so childish. He”s probably enjoying it right now.
“I can tell,” I reply. “I want to represent you because I”m sure we”ll make a good team. But we are not going on a date!”
“Come on!” Noah pushes himself off the desk and walks over to me. “It”s a date, Cara. Just a dinner. What”s going to happen?”
He can”t be serious, can he? A lot can happen. Like me liking him even more than I already do. That could happen. Or he wants another date. He”s already blackmailing me.
“No!” I insist, turning to pack my things and put them on my desk. “I”m not going out with you.”
“Too bad,” he says. “You can request my previous work from my former agent. Read it and call me when you have time.”
Irritated that he changed the subject so abruptly, I look at him. I”m tempted to ask him if this is a trick, but I don”t dare. The last thing I want is to upset him again.
“See you then.” Noah nods at me again and heads for the office door.
“Oh, and Cara,” he says suddenly, turning to me. “Please send me an e-mail to let me know when it”s convenient for our date. After all, it”s a give and take. See you then.”
And then he”s gone!