Even Odds (Clear Lake Quartet #2)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

I should have skipped graduation. Sure, you only get your MBA once, but this is my chance to prove myself.

A gust of the warm May breeze smacks my cheeks as I dart between luxury cars. My sensible two-inch heels don’t snap as I sprint toward the stadium entrance, and I thank years of soccer for strong ankles.

Joyful screams of spectators pierce the night sky, which is my favorite part about the retractable roof being left open for home games at Pilot City Stadium.

“Hi,” I rasp, draping the lavender badge around my neck. “Agent.”

The burly guard in a navy uniform gives me a slow once-over.

I probably look like I’m headed to a dance in my pink dress, the one I wore under my graduation gown as I walked across the stage an hour ago, but my name tag and the diploma in my passenger seat prove I’m meant to be here as an agent.

Not as a girlfriend, a wife, or a fangirl.

Even if that surprises men.

After inspecting my badge for what feels like eons, he grins. “Little late, don’t you think?”

It’s not my fault the commencement speaker droned on or that Turner is near the end of the alphabet. Either way, being late is not professional, and my stress spikes at the reminder.

With a glare, I slip past him and jog down the hallway.

Pilot City Stadium, home of the Carolina Pilots, is breathtaking.

The walls are a gleaming white with navy and shiny gold accents, much like the uniforms they wear for home games.

As much as I love the Pilots, and have for years, I’m not here to watch the home team.

I’m here for Garrett Blane, the Virginia Jackals’ first baseman.

Garrett isn’t a client a junior agent would usually be tasked with signing, but my supervisor approved my request. I mean, Trevor laughed when he heard my lofty goal, but I got a halfhearted thumbs-up, so here I am.

After sending thousands of cold emails and social media direct messages, the awkwardness and hesitancy faded.

I learned to press send and forget about it, distracting myself with something else.

Coming back from a bubble bath to an email from Garrett agreeing to meet me after tonight’s game felt like a victory.

If tonight doesn’t go my way, it’ll be just another no I’ve gotten in my pursuit of being a sports agent.

The first was when I told my undergraduate advisor about my career aspirations.

He swore he didn’t believe in gender roles but recommended something more “feminine” like public relations or marketing.

Yes, he used air quotes.

Then the reminders I wasn’t one of them kept coming. Guys huffed when I entered the classroom with my pink pom-pen. Suggestive snickers fill the boardroom when I discuss my male clients. My supervisor drills into me that agents must be tough, fierce, and knowledgeable.

As if those are three things I can’t be.

“Eight and a half innings complete,” the announcer booms. “Jackals six. Pilots four. Dirk is the new pitcher for the Jackals. Let’s hope the Pilots will take advantage of their last batting opportunity.

Parker at bat, Hofmann on deck, and Owens in the hole.

I’m expecting something good from the golden rookie. ”

I barely manage to keep my head down. It would be easy to search for the familiar face, but I’m not here to open old wounds that have long been stitched up.

I’m here to make a name for myself.

“No, I’m not a fan. I’m an agent, and I was told to meet Garrett Blane.”

The security guard blocking the entrance barely glances at my badge before crossing thick arms over his chest. “He said he’s meeting Turner. Your name isn’t Turner.”

I tap the hard plastic. “Shaylene Turner. I am Turner.”

His ruddy forehead creases. “Let’s call that luck, little lady.”

“Sir.” I’m tempted to show him my badge again, but it’s clear reading comprehension isn’t his thing. “Will you please tell Garrett I’m waiting for him?”

“No can do,” he sings. “And yes, I see your badge, but I’ve stopped many creative schemes. One woman dressed as Cade Owens’s grandmother: muumuu, gray wig, and a cane. The whole shebang. Come back with a better story next time, okay?”

Frustration rushes up my throat, but I choke it down. This isn’t the first time I’ve been denied access to a player area, and I’m sure it won’t be the last, but it always hurts. Still, I lift my chin and walk away.

There’s nothing men hate more than women who show emotion.

“Turner! Hey!” A wave of relief floods me at the deep voice I’ve heard in countless postgame interviews. Over my shoulder, Garrett waves me down with a tired smile. “Sorry. Media took forever. You ready?”

I nod and give the guard my sweetest smile, but he refuses to meet my eye, like a coward.

A confident sway hits my hips as I follow Garrett into the packed room, right on his heels. An unusually optimistic part of me hopes I’ll get a tour of the stadium tonight, but when he leads me to a round table, I swallow my disappointment.

Settling onto the cold stool, I extend my hand. “Thanks for meeting me tonight.” As he shakes it, his eyes linger on my ring finger, proudly adorned with a gold Clear Lake University class ring.

His fingers fly to the gold chain around his neck with an identical ring on it. “My fiancée lets me travel with hers for good luck.”

I’m glad I did my research. Step one: a solid connection. Check.

I twist my ring. “Have you visited campus?”

Garrett’s mop of wet, blonde hair flops. “For her graduation a few years ago. Prettiest campus I’ve ever seen. Especially with the lake running through the middle.”

“I was there today for my graduation and people were swimming in it.”

“You graduated from college today?”

“For my MBA,” I clarify. “I was a full-time junior agent and grad student up until today. Now I’m just an agent.”

He lets out a quiet, appreciative whistle. “How in the hell did you manage that?”

“Oh, you know.” I shrug. “All work, no play.”

Which is another way to say I’ve done nothing but work to chase this dream.

“Well, I applaud you. Layla, my fiancée, has been thinking about going back to school, but adding that to a job seems tough.” Blue eyes flit to his phone, and I steal a glance at his wallpaper. The blonde woman is gorgeous. “So, tell me about yourself, Turner.”

Athletes usually prefer talking about their wants and needs, so why the hell are we talking about me?

I clear my throat. “I graduated early from CLU with a degree in sports management and a minor in communications. During my final semester, I secured an internship with Permian Sports Agency and accepted a full-time position a year and a half ago.”

“That’s nice.” The unimpressed notch between his brows tells me it’s not really that nice. “What do you do when you’re not working?”

My hackles rise at the first hint of a red flag. “Would you ask a male agent that?”

Dusty pink colors his cheeks. “Honestly? Probably. I’m a nosy guy, but I’ll admit that I’m curious about you. I’d like to know who you are. Outside of work.”

His answer puts me at ease as I look down at the badge hanging around my neck. Me outside of work doesn’t exist. These days, I am my job. Every moment is spent either working or thinking about work. I’m always on duty for my clients, which doesn’t leave much time for anything else.

“To be honest, I’m married to the job. In the rare moments I’m not working, I’m with my best friends. We played soccer at CLU.”

A pang of guilt radiates through me at the memory of leaving Mallory, Jo, and Adri in the parking lot after the graduation ceremony to hightail it here. Being the supportive friends they are, they understood, but work has come first for so long, they probably weren’t surprised.

“Yeah, I saw that when I looked you up.” He shrugs at my narrowed gaze. “What? Preparation is key. So tell me about you.”

If I didn’t want to work with him before, I definitely want to now. He’s the perfect client, so I indulge his personal request.

“I grew up in an all-athlete family. My dad’s a former basketball player turned sports broadcaster.

My mom’s a sports attorney in Portland with a successful track career behind her, a three-time Olympian.

And my brother, Myles, is a point guard for the Seattle Surge.

As my dad says, sports are practically in our DNA. ”

By the indifferent look on his face, this isn’t new information either. Everyone knows the Turners are a sports family.

“You were an incredible defender.” He props his chin onto his palm and smiles thoughtfully. “Nationally ranked. They called you the Angel Devil because you looked innocent but were an imminent threat to everyone’s ankles. I was surprised to see you didn’t go pro.”

As if on autopilot, my fingers play with my soccer ball stud earrings.

“Soccer was my first love, but I always wanted to be the person who guides players through their professional careers. As a forever sports fan, I have certifications in multiple sports. Baseball, soccer, and basketball are my sweet spots.”

“Finally! Something I didn’t see online.” Garrett grins and slaps the table. “I understand basketball and soccer, but why baseball?”

I swallow over the lump of emotion lodged in my throat. “When I was nine, my dad and I watched a documentary about Jackie Robinson. By the time it ended, I had fallen in love with baseball the same way I loved soccer.”

Soon after, my parents separated. A few months later, Dad moved to Philadelphia with Myles while I stayed in Portland with Mom.

Summers in Philly with Dad became my favorite things in the world.

Every evening, we faced the heat and walked to the ballpark.

Our nights were spent rooting for the home team and feasting on stale stadium nachos, as if we hadn’t already eaten dinner.

That was the summer he fell in love with baseball too.

I hope my smile isn’t too sad. “Baseball is special to me.”

For many reasons, and one of them is in this stadium right now.

“It really is special.” Looking pleased, Garrett drums two fingers against the table. “I want to be honest. I’m talking to a few agents.”

“As you should be.” Telling him not to talk to other agents isn’t a good look. “There are many talented people out there to choose from.”

“So why should I choose you?”

Although this conversation isn’t going the way I expected, my answer is immediate.

“Because you are the only thing that matters to me. Not money or fame. Your well-being will always be more important than any deal, but that doesn’t mean I won’t fight like hell to make sure you get what you deserve.

At the end of the day, it’s my job to advocate for you.

To support you. To make sure you’re safe.

If being close to your family is what you want, I’ll fight for a great trade.

If an endorsement is needed, I’ll find one that aligns with your brand.

My only goal is to get you where you want to be.

In the sport. In life. Everywhere.” I smile.

“And I’ll do whatever it takes to accomplish that. ”

The silence that follows is weighted. According to my colleagues, my pitch is too emotional and vulnerable. I should treat my clients like dollar signs and nothing more.

But Garrett’s eyes tell me I’ve done well, crinkled at the edges and full of approval.

“I like you, Turner.” He stands, and I follow his lead. “There won’t be a decision immediately, but you’ll hear from me soon. And congrats on your graduation!”

Excitement bubbles to the surface as he exits the room. The moment the door closes behind him, I fist pump the air with a silent whoop.

I’m going to break into the boys’ club whether they like it or not.