Chapter 8 #2
“Every year, ISNA—the International Sports Nutrition Association—gives out awards to high achievers in the field. The recipients are usually people who’ve been doing this for decades.
But this year, they created the Innovator Award to recognize nutritionists who are early in their careers but are driving innovation in the field.
The winner gets a twenty-thousand-dollar cash prize and mentorship from a veteran practitioner.
I found out about it last week, and I was working on the application when you came home.
” Faint pink bloomed across her cheeks. “It’s a long shot, but the prize would be a game changer for me.
It’s the first time I’ve ever qualified for an ISNA award, so I got really excited. ”
“That’s incredible.” My brow furrowed. “Why did you think I’d laugh?”
“I don’t know.” She smoothed a hand over her thigh, her expression self-conscious. “When I say it out loud, it seems so out of reach. It’s like telling someone I want to win an Olympic medal.”
“That’s not the same thing. You beat out thousands of applicants for the Blackcastle internship, and you’re doing a damn good job. Winning an award for something you’re great at isn’t a long shot; it’s deserved.”
Some people dismissed Brooklyn as a nepotism hire, but a little birdie in HR told me they had no idea who her father was until she reached the final round. They only found out because they had to run the obligatory background screening.
Surprise flared in her eyes. We rarely gave each other compliments, but I meant what I said. She deserved that prize as much as anyone else.
“I see why they made you captain.” Her smile returned in increments. “You’re good at pep talks.”
“Only if I believe what I’m saying,” I said. “So how does it work? What do you have to do to win?”
“It’s like applying for college. I need three letters of recommendation, a personal statement, and a CV listing relevant achievements and experiences, plus optional items like press coverage or journal publications.
If I’m a finalist, I’ll have multiple rounds of interviews.
” She bit her bottom lip. “The deadline is in two months, so I really need to focus. The personal statement will be the hardest part.”
“At least the rest is fairly easy. Everyone at Blackcastle will give you a great rec. Hell, I’ll write you one, if you want. Seriously.”
Another flare of surprise, this time accompanied by a softness that made my heart twist. “I appreciate that, but they want diversified recommendations so I can only have one from Blackcastle.” Her expression turned rueful.
“Anyway, it would be weird to get all my recs from a place I’ll no longer be working at. ”
I straightened. Her words hit me like a punch in the gut. “Wait. You’re leaving?”
Her internship ended after the new year, but I’d assumed she would stay on as a junior performance nutritionist. Her leaving hadn’t even occurred to me.
“It’s not up to me,” she said. “They haven’t made an offer.”
“That makes no sense. You’re the best intern we have.”
“Maybe, but I’m not the only intern. They can only hire so many people.”
“Bullshit. The only other intern is Henry, and he’s mediocre, at best.” In fact, fuck Henry. He was a nice enough guy, but if he was the reason Brooklyn had to leave, I hated him (respectfully).
“It’s subjective, I guess.” She shrugged. “Enough about me. What about you? How do you feel about the club’s odds of winning the Champions League?”
She wasn’t subtle about her deflection, and I could respect that. But I could also be angry about the way Blackcastle was treating her.
“Pretty good.” I swallowed the desire to call the HR director and ream them out. That would be stepping way over the line. Knowing Brooklyn, she would hate that. “We’re kicking ass so far, but we haven’t played our toughest competition yet.”
We were in the league phase of the UCL. Teams played each other only once during this phase, and while we’d notched several wins so far, matches against Madrid, Barca, and other top clubs loomed in the coming weeks. We couldn’t afford to slack off.
“There’s a lot of pressure to make it to the finals from both the club and my agent. He thinks I have a solid shot at getting the Zenith ambassadorship if that happens,” I added. I wasn’t sure why I’d added that last part. To prolong the conversation? To impress Brooklyn?
If there was any brand deal capable of the latter, it was Zenith, a major global name that sold shoes, clothing, sports equipment, and every other athletic item you could think of.
Unlike its competitors, who added new faces every year, Zenith was notorious for sticking to one or two ambassadors over the course of a decade.
Ben Evers, its current ambassador for men’s sports, had been with them for twelve years.
He recently announced his retirement from swimming, and rumors were flying about Zenith’s alleged search for his replacement.
Someone from their exec team contacted Lloyd, my agent, to set up a meeting. They didn’t say what it was about, and I didn’t want to get my hopes up, but it had to be about a potential sponsorship. I couldn’t think of another reason they’d want to meet.
“Zenith. Wow.” Brooklyn’s eyebrows rose with reluctant admiration, and I’d be damned if that didn’t spark a glow in my chest. “I feel like you’re already the face of everything.
Cologne, deodorant, clothing…I can’t walk through a single Tube station without seeing your face plastered all over the walls. ”
“Then my plan for world domination is working.”
I was only half-joking. I had more sponsorships than anyone at Blackcastle, including Asher. Lloyd was worried that would lead to “brand dilution,” but I wasn’t going to be at the top of the game forever. I might as well take advantage of it while I could.
The money I got from sponsors was my safety net. If I got injured tomorrow and had to quit football, I’d still be set for retirement. I earned more from my brand deals than I did my Blackcastle salary, and I’d invested that extra cash wisely.
But—and I’d never tell anyone this—the other reason I loved working with brands was because of the validation. Every deal was proof that they believed in me and that I deserved to be here.
I wasn’t good enough for everyone, but I was good enough for someone.
“I hope you stay at Blackcastle,” I told Brooklyn. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”
She obviously didn’t want to talk about it, but I couldn’t let her go without sharing how I felt. I’d been in her shoes before. I’d waited for offers that never came, and I’d been passed over for opportunities that I worked my ass off for.
I couldn’t change Brooklyn’s employment circumstances, but I could make sure she knew she was appreciated. Her presence made a difference, regardless of what HR did or didn’t do.
Her face softened. “Thanks.” A smile played on her lips. “I think you’ll get the Zenith deal whether you make it to the finals or not. You’re you.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Usually, no, but in this case, yes. Don’t read too much into it,” she warned. “I’m delirious from lack of sleep.”
“It’s not even ten yet, Grandma.”
“I woke up early, slacker.”
My smirk mirrored hers as we fell back into our comfortable banter. Our brief moment of vulnerability had passed, but the echoes of it lingered, smoothing the edges of our insults.
“I’m going to bed.” Brooklyn let out a genuine yawn and stood. “I have a long day tomorrow.” She hesitated, then said, “Thanks for inviting me to watch the show with you. It was…fun.”
“Anytime. Night, buttercup.”
“Goodnight.”
I waited until she disappeared into the hall before I cleaned up the living room and went to bed.
It wasn’t until I turned off the lights that I realized I hadn’t thought about our bet at all after we started talking. My guard had been completely down. If she’d made her move then, I would’ve fallen for it.
I covered my eyes with my forearm. Fuck.