Chapter Seven
CHAPTER SEVEN
MAX
“You’ve been avoiding my calls.”
“Son of a bi—” I cry, losing my footing on the treadmill and careening to the side. My hands fly out to the sides just in time to catch the handrails before I tumble off the machine. I jump my feet out to the edges, and once I’m stable, I hit the emergency stop button.
“What the hell, Mable? You can’t sneak up on someone like that. I could have died!”
“You were fine,” she replies with a wave of her hand. Mable’s gaze isn’t even on me at the moment; it’s on her phone. The sly smile on her face, though, lets me know she saw my panic and is enjoying it. “It’s karma for you not calling me back.”
“It’s not karma,” I mutter, grabbing the towel I’d thrown over the railing and wiping the sweat from my eyes. “It’s evil.”
Her dark brown eyes flick up to me, making me stop in my tracks. Mable could make grown men cry and other women cheer for her on the sidelines. She is a fierce woman, a no-nonsense leader and the best sports agent in North America.
When I met Mable at the sweet and naive age of twenty, I was playing in the Canadian Junior League. She didn’t ask if she could represent me; she just told me she was. I’d known who she was long before she’d strutted up to me after a home game and passed me her card. I’d been so stunned and impressed I hadn’t contradicted her.
And honestly, I would have been too scared to try.
Even now, nine years later, she still makes my hands sweat with nerves when she stares at me with that look . The look she’s giving me right now.
“Why have you been avoiding my calls?” I open my mouth, not sure what I’m about to say, but she cuts me off before any lies can trickle out. “And I want the truth, Max. Don’t bullshit me with how busy you’ve been. I know your schedule, and you’ve had plenty of time hot shot.”
I pause for a needed second, my breathing and heartbeat still heavy from the near-death experience. Even that short reprieve pisses Mable off.
“I needed some time to think. About all the sponsorship deals that are coming in. It’s a lot to process when you add in the start of the season, team dynamics, family stuff, whatever is happening with Sabrina, and the sponsors I already have.”
Even to me, I sound a bit whiny, but it’s the truth. The last month has been difficult juggling everything and being there for the people I care about.
“First, that’s my literal job, Max. To help you sort this shit out. So let’s talk it through.” I nod, about to agree with her, when Mable raises a dark green, sparkly nail at me. “But before we do that, who the hell is Sabrina?”
“Oh,” I laugh, feeling a little embarrassed that she was mentioned in my list. It’s one thing to be constantly thinking about her again, another to admit that out loud. “She’s. Umm, well, she was…”
“Good God, man, spit it out. I don’t have all day.”
“She’s just a childhood friend who’s back in the picture now. At least, I think maybe she is. We ran into each other a week ago, and she was going through a career change and freaking out about it, and it’s just kinda stayed with me.”
Mable’s glare turns more into a squint as she looks at me, taking in my words. Again, I feel like I’m under a microscope with her.
“You’re talking about Sabrina Sutton. The sports reporter.”
“Yeah,” I say slowly, a little freaked she knows her.
“Don’t give me that look, Daws. You two went viral last week, remember?” I’m a little embarrassed that I didn’t. There’s always something being posted online about me—good and bad—that I don’t pay attention to. I only run one of my own socials, and even that application has the notifications paused.
“She hasn’t found a new gig yet? That’s surprising.” Mable isn’t talking to me. Instead, she begins tapping away on her phone. “Anyway, Max, if you’re overwhelmed with all the new sponsorship stuff, I can tell you right now that you should do the Battlements Inc. Athletic wear one and the food delivery one. You use both, you believe in both, and there’s no scandal waiting to happen with either. Good?”
Dropping down onto a nearby bench, I blink at her in amazement. “Umm, yeah, both of those sounds good.” And were actually the only two that stayed top of mind with me. Damn, she’s scary good.
“Good. I’ll make the calls and let you know.” She turns on her heel, about to saunter out of the gym, when I stop her.
“Wait.” The word is out of my mouth before I can think better of it. Mable turns again with an eyebrow raised.
“I have to hunt you down after days of being ignored, and now you want me to stay and hear something new?”
“Damn it, Mable. Could you chill your psychic abilities for just a moment? I wanted to touch back on…the documentary.”
She doesn’t move or say anything for a whole minute. I think I’m totally fucked, and maybe she’s trying to find the right words to tell me I missed out.
“I’m listening,” she says, clasping her hands over her stomach. “I thought the documentary was off the table. Something about an invasion of privacy and having a stranger snoop around in your personal sanctuary.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“No you haven’t. You still hate the idea. But there’s a new component now. Tell me.”
“I’ll do it. Under one condition.”
I outline my idea, and Mable doesn’t immediately veto it, so I might be onto something. When I’m done, she gives me a slight nod.
“It’s not a bad idea, but it’s going to take a lot of convincing.”
“On whose end?”
“I think you know.” She looks down at her buzzing phone. “I’ll give you an update soon,” she says over her shoulder, already heading for the door. “Pick up the damn phone next time.”
“I will!” I shouted across an empty room, knowing she heard me.
There’s a giddiness tingling inside me. I feel like I could run a marathon or play a game of hockey right now. All by myself. I’m so pumped!
Yet I know it’s not going to be that simple.
In the days to come, I’m sure I’m going to get an earful. Bright side to that impending yell-fest that’s coming my way: Sabrina is going to start talking to me again. Even if it is at a high volume.