Chapter 9 Silas
SILAS
Frosty.
I stared at the photo and double-checked the source.
Cooper.
My heart pinged and jackhammered in my chest at the sight of his name.
I glanced in the general direction of the restrooms for my agent, but the coast was clear.
I started to reply with an enthusiastic How’ve you been?
I was just thinking about you. But if I really got going, I might add, I’ve missed you.
No, no, I wouldn’t go there. I wasn’t that big of a sap. Although…it was a thousand percent true that I thought of Cooper way more than I should have. Which probably made sense.
Spending a few intense days in isolation with the sexy lumberjack had made an impression.
I hadn’t returned to LA flying a bi banner or anything, but the blinders were off.
Mostly. I’d given myself permission to explore my queer side a bit.
So far, that had amounted to a renewed interest in gay porn and jerking it to a couple of hot guys going at it like bunnies.
I hoped I’d eventually build up the confidence to try a dating app and meet someone real, but I hadn’t worked up the nerve required, and being back in LA didn’t make it easy.
My agent, Ger, who happened to be a friend of mine, had been in my dish, wanting to “bounce ideas around” and get a feel for my next career move.
“You’re a hot commodity, baby. Think of the football greats who retired decades ago and are still in the public eye. With those cheekbones, you can make bank doing commercials,” Ger had enthused. “Not just in the US. We’re talking Europe, Japan, Australia.”
He’d arranged meetings with a dozen brands looking for new representation. I’d been wined and dined by a hodgepodge of firms that sold everything from toothpaste to sparkling water. Interesting and possibly lucrative but not exactly satisfying.
Tonight, Ger supposedly had an exciting development that he couldn’t wait to share—after he’d grabbed the digits from the cute guy he’d been low-key flirting with before I’d shown up.
Of course, I’d acted as though I hadn’t noticed ’cause Ger wasn’t out and I wasn’t supposed to know he was queer.
He probably assumed I was too self-absorbed to pick up on sly once-overs between two men anyway.
I could have been offended, but I understood.
Ger’s biggest clients were professional athletes who swam in toxic masculine waters.
This was a culture of posturing, posing, and rough play… on and off the field.
It was exhausting to manage my own turbulent headspace, let alone worry about someone else’s.
It hadn’t been like that with Cooper. No bullshit, no sugarcoating, no pretense. So fucking refreshing.
But I was back to reality now, and Cooper’s name on my cell was so unexpected that pleasure was accompanied by a flash of suspicion. What did he want? Why now? Was he planning to screw me over somehow? Maybe he’d taken secret photos or an incriminating video, and it was time to pay up.
Okay…no.
It was terrible that I was wired to assume the worst in people. Sure, everyone wanted something, everyone had an agenda. Cooper, though? Nah. It was just a snowman.
My snowman, I corrected, my lips curling into a reluctant smile.
Frosty’s lookin’ good. Except for the Boston hat. WTAF?
Red Sox fans here. Sorry.
You should be, I typed, adding five angry emojis for the hell of it.
Three dancing dots appeared and then faded once, twice, then…nothing.
“Hey, sorry about that.” Ger slapped my shoulder and slid into the private booth tucked in the corner of his favorite West Hollywood eatery.
“No prob.” I flipped my cell upside down, thanking the server for the beer and the plate of tofu nachos…or something equally unappealing. “What did you order?”
“Vegan nachos. Try one. I swear you can’t tell the difference,” Ger insisted, scooping a heap of faux cheese and veggies onto a chip.
“Yeah fucking right.”
His boyish grin split his face in half and made him look ten years younger than the big four-oh he’d been griping about for months. Ger was an attractive guy with short dark hair, the physique of a swimmer, the personality of a game-show host, and the instincts of a seasoned politician.
He’d been my agent from the beginning when we’d both been total newbies. Now he had an impressive clientele, a knowledgeable staff, and a fancy office on Wilshire. I was happy for him, and I knew that Ger viewed me as a friend and an integral part of his success. And Ger took care of his friends.
“They have a great filet mignon. Get the works. The twice-baked potato is fuckin’ unreal. They’re small, though…so order two. And the creamed spinach. You’ve had that, right? Amazing. Get that,” he urged.
“Are you eating vicariously through me or something?” I snorted.
“I am. My doctor wants me to watch my carbs. My cholesterol is through the roof. He suggested a diet change…and exercise. I hate exercise.”
“I wouldn’t admit that to your other clients.”
“Only you, baby. Only you.”
I chuckled as I pushed the menu aside. “So…what’s your big news?”
Ger widened his eyes theatrically. “One more year in the pros.”
“Huh?”
“You heard me.”
I frowned. “Yeah, but you’re not making any sense. I retired, remember?”
“Like it was yesterday. Thing is…you still got it, Si. Everyone thinks so. Listen up.” He shoved the nachos to the end of the table and leaned in.
“Your numbers last season were good, you’re fast, you’re smart, and just ’cause the writing was on the wall with the Devils doesn’t mean it has to be over. ”
“We talked about this, Ger, and—”
“I know, but that was before the Rangers came calling.”
“The Rangers?”
“Yeah, you heard that right. The LA fucking Rangers.” Ger slapped his palm on the table, a self-satisfied smirk in place. “And…Arizona wants to have a chat too.”
“Arizona? I don’t get it.”
“There’s nothing to ‘get’…except a one-year contract worth big bucks.” He threw out a ridiculous number and made a mind-blown gesture. “Boggles the brain, right? If I shop this some more, I can drum up interest elsewhere—Chicago, Miami, Boston, Hous—”
“Okay, stop.”
“You’re shocked. I love this!”
I took a quick peek at the nearest table to be sure we couldn’t be overheard, but they were engrossed in conversation and were too far away to catch anything juicy.
Ger knew that, the cunning SOB. If he’d been concerned about privacy, he’d have insisted on meeting at his office.
He’d wanted to catch me unaware in a casual setting and spin an off-the-cuff “what if” potential multi-million-dollar deal… as one does.
“I just retired. It just happened.”
“Un-retire. You’re not seventy, for fuck’s sake. You’re a healthy thirty-six-year-old dude with star power.”
“Star power?” I repeated incredulously. “I count on you to keep it real, Ger. Yes, I can probably sell some dishwashing detergent, and with some training, I could probably be an analyst, but—”
“I know who you are. And I know I can get you that salary. At least for a year.”
He had to be high.
“Ger…”
“There’s an elephant in the room, Si. Do you need me to point it out?”
I flinched as realization dawned. “You’ve got to be kidding. Is this really about Alli’s boyfriend?”
Ger nodded slowly, a wicked grin firmly in place. “Let’s be honest, Alli’s involvement with Sutcliffe makes you appealing too.”
I slumped in the booth. “Oh, c’mon.”
“Especially in LA,” he continued. “The Devils couldn’t keep you because they spent all their money on new talent. They need new blood more than they need publicity, but the Rangers…they’re another story. They have money and could use your celebrity.”
“Celebrity? What are you fucking talking about?”
“Hollywood is here, baby. You’re in it. Don’t act like a hayseed.
You know how this goes. You’ll get the commercial endorsements too, and those commercials will get played after the ads for the new Trilogy Alpha Team movie.
” Ger lowered his voice, his eyes blazing earnestly.
“Look, I hate to go there, but I gotta spell this out for you. The longer Alli is with this guy, the more scrutiny she gets…and by association, you do too. There’s no such thing as anonymity in Liam’s world.
They want to know every damn thing about him.
And when he showed up with a new woman on his arm, who happened to have been married to a pro football player, they got curious about her… and you.”
“Yeah, thanks for the breakdown. I know this shit show,” I snapped. “I fucking live it.”
“I get that, and I’m giving you an opportunity to turn the tables,” he said softly.
“Fuck the sad-sack bullshit. Take advantage. Jesus, Alli was at a party with her new beau and his good friend, Beyoncé, and you got tagged in the footnotes with a sorry-ass pic of you looking like a schlub in sweaty gym clothes last week. Fuck that! Use the spotlight, man.”
I scrubbed my hand over my jaw, suddenly feeling raw and exposed. My year from hell continued.
Alli’s relationship with a giant movie star had been news for months on end.
Months. Alli and I joked about how ridiculous the headlines were, but the rabid media attention was getting to me.
Even though our marriage had ended amicably, it was like having salt rubbed into a wound every day.
So yeah…changing the narrative in my favor was tempting.
But I sort of liked the idea of going off the grid and escaping the constant noise too.
“I don’t know.” I sighed, poking at a chunk of tofu with a chip.
Ger gave a sympathetic nod. “I get it. I’m going to say two more things that may piss you off, but again…I want to be real with you.”
I glared but gestured for him to get on with it. “Go on.”
“One, you owe some of your recent endorsement opportunities to Sutcliffe. Power of associative selling at its finest.”
“What the fuck?”