Me For You

Ryland Parks

“Itruly believe you are doing everything in your power to make me drop you as a client. Is that what this is? Because if that’s the case, we can solve this now.

I’ll give you what you want, Ryland. You’re no longer represented by Pinnacle PR.

I’ll send you a list of suitable replacements by end of day. ”

My publicist Vanassa was fed up. I understood why, but finding a new one was out of the question.

Vanessa Thomas was the absolute best in the industry.

There wasn’t a problem she couldn’t rectify, flip, or erase from the public eye.

I knew this personally because my poor decisions caused Vanessa to earn every penny I paid her.

“You’re the best, Van. Why the hell would I want to be dropped from your roster?

That’s not happening. Now whether or not I’m trying to piss you off might actually be something to consider.

” I flashed a megawatt smile and Van crossed the room, connected the palm of her hand to my forehead, and shoved it back so quickly I didn’t have time to react.

She stepped between my legs and gripped the arms of the chair I was folded in seconds before she lowered her head so we were eye level. Van sneered. My smile dropped and I pulled my shit together. She was not playing with me.

“For the past six months you have been slinging dick more than you’ve been blocking for your quarterback. You only get paid for one of those tasks, which means you need to figure some shit out. You don’t pay me enough for this.”

The heel of her hand made contact with my forehead and she mushed me for a second time. Van was cool as hell for the most part, and good at her job, but when she flipped into alpha woman business mode, she was a little scary. So I decided to act like I had some sense.

“It wasn’t my…”

“Don’t you dare finish that sentence. It was your fault.

You went to the club. You invited her into your section.

You pulled your dick out and let her sit on it and didn’t object when her friend recorded the violation.

In fact, you turned and smiled at the camera, which means you were well aware that you were being recorded. ”

Vanessa was now positioned across the room, shooting an evil glare my way while she assumed the position—fists balled and pressed into her hips, head slightly tilted, and eyes narrowed in that scary way which usually made me get my shit together when it came to dealing with Van.

Since I was more than positive I was skating on thin ice, I decided to bypass explaining that the woman I allowed to sit on my dick in a crowded club was the one who’d pulled my dick out, not me. I did not, however, object.

“Alright, you got that. What do I need to do to fix this?” I tried my best not to smile but Van was so pissed that it was cute.

Hell, sexy actually, but she was one line I would never cross.

There wasn’t a publicist in the world skilled enough to handle the chaos in my life—most of which was due in part to my dick—so I refused to allow said dick to cost me the one person who could ensure I kept my endorsements.

“Get out of my office, Ryland. I’ll send a list of suitable replacements before close of business day.”

I grinned, brushed a hand over my head, and unfolded my body from the chair I was uncomfortably positioned in. For Van to have a roster full of athletes, she damn sure didn’t care about making her office accommodating for any of us.

“I’ll give you time to calm down so you can tell me how this is going to work,” I said coolly.

She barked a laugh, cocky and laced with frustration. “You’re not hearing me.” We locked eyes and she spoke slowly. “I’m done. You’re going to need another publicist and you’re going to need one fast. If I had to guess, this latest fuck up is going to cost you.”

She turned on her heels and headed back to her desk, taking a seat behind it and powering up her laptop. I frowned and glared at Van who seconds ago was ready to knock my head off but was now seemingly calm.

Yeah, I’d really fucked up…

“Van…”

“Yes,” she answered while typing on her laptop, not bothering to give me her eyes.

“I know you’re not serious.” I scowled and she finally looked up.

“I’m very serious. I told you last time would be the last time,” she stated with no real emotion.

“I get that I messed up but that’s what I pay you for…to handle things when I do.”

“The money isn’t worth it. There’s an entire roster of Sharks I can replace you with. Players who listen and are willing to trust my advice about their careers.”

“I trust your advice.”

She arched a brow and I sighed. “I do. I’m just…”

“A gotdamn manchild.”

Again, I would have laughed because she was exasperated and also not lying.

My behavior over the past year had very much been childish, but I didn’t give a damn because I had a team in place to fix my fuckups.

I needed to do better. Was very much aware that I was risking my career but I worked hard as a Shark, doing my part to win championships.

The privilege allowed me to gain the access I had at my fingertips.

I deserved to play a little. The problem was, I had bypassed playing a little years ago and ventured into a space of balling the fuck out on a regular in a grand way.

“I’m going to get my shit together.”

“Maybe, maybe not. What you won’t do is stress me out in the process. Pick from the list I send you. They’ll all be qualified…”

“Nah, fuck that. I don’t want another publicist. You have that job, Van.”

“Used to. Now if you don’t mind…”

“I mind.” I scowled and brushed a hand over my head. “One more chance, Van. I swear I won’t fuck up again. Let me get one more chance.”

I made the demand with zero confidence that I wouldn’t end up right back here in a few months, or hell, weeks. When I drank, I did stupid shit.

“No,” she stated with finality.

“Van…”

She sighed and dropped back in her office chair, glaring at me. “Okay fine, you want one more chance, it’s going to cost you.”

“How much?”

Van smiled arrogantly. “Let me think about it. I’ll send you an invoice tonight along with the list of publicists I recommend.

You either pay the invoice or pick a replacement.

The choice will be yours, but I promise you Ryland, this is your last chance.

If your dick finds its way to the internet again, we’re done. ”

“Fair enough. I’ma head out.”

“Good.” She was back to typing on her laptop and I decided to leave now instead of pressing my luck.

As soon as I was in my truck, I hit my boy Omiri because he was about the only person who understood the position I was in with Van and I wanted to feel him out to see what level of pisstivity I had reached with her.

Omiri Hayes, Sharks quarterback and my best friend, was also signed to Vanessa.

Until marrying his daughter’s mother recently, he’d been ten times worse when it came to media fuckups than I had ever been.

Although only a handful of his indiscretions involved public nudity and sex tape scandals, prior to becoming a father and getting married, Omiri was the bad press headline in heavy rotation.

“She drop you?” Omiri said as soon as he answered the call.

I backed out of the spot before I responded. “No, but she threatened to. She even told me a list of replacement publicists would be emailed to me by close of business.”

“Damn, Van isn’t playing with you, Land. She never hit me with a potential list of replacements. She’s pissed, fam.”

“Shit, I guess so.”

“Can you blame her?” my boy asked and I pulled to a stop at a traffic light and slouched in my seat.

“Nah, I can’t. So no matter what this costs, she’s got it.”

“Oh trust and believe she’s about to hit your pockets, but real shit, Land. She might actually drop you. You better chill out.”

“This isn’t my fault. How was I supposed to know ol’ girl was going to post the video?” I frowned and pulled off when the light changed.

“I know you’re not serious right now. Do you hear the dumb shit you just said? You fucked someone in a club. Her homegirl recorded it and you didn’t think she would post the video?”

“Nah, I really didn’t. Why would she want that out there? She fucked me in a club.”

“Because she fucked you in a club, Land. You really think she cares about the moment going viral if she did that shit in the first place. I’m sure that’s what she wanted. You were a payday.”

I smirked. “You have a point.”

“Yeah I do and Van is not going to keep saving you from losing endorsements if you don’t get your shit together.”

“Daddy, Mommy wants my brother.”

I smiled when I heard Avi’s cute little voice come through the phone.

If anyone had asked me a year ago if Omiri would ever end up in the position he currently claimed, I would have laughed in their face.

Father of two, married, and wrapped around three sets of fingers—his wife Makari’s, their three-year-old daughter Avi’s, and his son Orion’s.

My boy didn’t stand a chance at winning when it came to them but he didn’t give a damn.

They could have every penny he owned and every second of his time.

They made him happy, but after the years of darkness that consumed him, he deserved their light.

“Mommy’s working, Avi. She doesn’t want your brother right now.”

“Yes, she does, Daddy. She told me to get him so I can have you.”

I chuckled, knowing exactly what the problem was. Avi was a daddy’s girl, and as much as she loved her brother, she was struggling with sharing Omiri with him.

“Come up here with us.” I heard shuffling, then my boy speaking again. “You good now?”

“Yep,” Avi sang and I chuckled, imagining her sitting right up under her father.

“Your ass don’t stand a chance with them,” I said, laughing.

“You’re right.”

“More kisses, Daddy.” I assumed he’d kissed her but that wasn’t good enough and she was demanding more. “Thank you.”

“Ay, you need to stop paying with Van before she drops you for real. But what you need to do more than that is calm your ass down.”

“That’s a bad word, Daddy. You have to give me money,” Avi said.

“Who says?”

“Mommy said when you say bad words you have to give me money.”

“Don’t you have enough money?” he asked with amusement laced in his tone.

“I do but that’s mine and I want yours.”

I chuckled, ’cause again, he was royally fucked. Omiri was doing his best not to curse around the kids but that was a work in progress. Makari was on him hard to clean up his language, so he was trying, and apparently she’d enlisted their daughter too.

“Aight, I got you.”

I heard shuffling again, then Avi. “Is this a lot of money?”

“It’s enough,” he told her.

“Thank you, Daddy. I love you,” her sweet little voice sang.

“How much you give her?” I asked, knowing it was more than required.

“A bill, that’s all I have on me.”

“Bruh, she’s playing you.”

“Yeah she is but she got that. Let me go though, and I’ll see you at the stadium tomorrow.”

“Aight bet. Tell Kari I said what’s up.”

“Done.”

I ended the call and pulled into the parking garage of The Millennium.

Today was the Monday after winning our first game in the playoffs.

Tuesday was an off day. But with practice for the rest of the week, I elected to stay in the city, which meant chilling at my apartment until we secured our fourth ring.

Our team successfully navigated a three-peat by winning the Super Bowl last year and the goal was to keep that trend going for as long as we could. I parked and took the resident elevator up to my floor. As soon as I walked into my apartment, I relaxed. This was my sanctuary.

Most of my teammates, aside from Omiri because he knew the deal, assumed I kept a place in the city to use as a fuck pad. That wasn’t the case. I had sex with a lot of women but typically at hotels because they never came to my crib and I didn’t trust women enough to be caught indisposed at theirs.

Too many people in my position had been caught slipping either by being robbed or worse because they’d pulled up on women they barely knew. I might've behaved recklessly with a lot of things in life but two things I never dropped the ball with were condoms and my safety.

I enjoyed being single too much to end up with the responsibility of becoming a father and I loved the life I worked for too much to let a woman clocking my pockets set me up.

Although I had to admit, seeing my boy Omiri with his kids had me considering the option…

one day. Not now. When I needed to curb that itch, I would simply chill at his place, spend time with Avi and Orion, and I was cured of the need for my own, at least for now.

In my living room, I dropped down on the sofa, grabbed the remote, and turned on Sports Center Live to catch what I’d missed about the game from Sunday. We won but barely. A last minute touchdown in the fourth quarter put us up by four, which had me revisiting my game play.

Van’s comment about me slinging more dick than protecting our quarterback didn’t fall on deaf ears.

I hadn’t played my best Sunday, and the time I’d spent at the club contributed to my piss poor performance on the field.

Coach had gotten on my ass about that and told me one more slip up like that and he was pulling me out of my starting spot.

“You need to get your shit together,” I muttered and dropped my head back, closing my eyes until my phone vibrated. I shoved my hand into the pocket of my sweats and removed the device, glancing at the screen.

The name that flashed across diminished my uneasy thoughts and brought a smile to my face.

“You miss me, old lady?” was how I greeted my mother.

“Land, are you home?” I tensed and sat up straight because her tone insinuated something was up.

“What’s wrong?” flew out of my mouth so quickly I hadn’t processed that I’d spoken until she responded.

“Nothing’s wrong, baby. When will you have a break? Your father…”

“Ma, what’s wrong?”

“Ryland, relax. Everything’s okay. We’re okay. Your father and I…”

“Then why are you asking me when I’ll have a break? It’s playoffs. You know the schedule, Ma. You’re well aware of what my next couple weeks will look like unless we lose, so if nothing’s wrong…”

“I don’t want you stressed or worrying. I promise your father and I are fine but there is a situation we need to speak to you about in person. It’s important and the sooner the better.”

I lifted from the sofa and started pacing before I got my next words out. “Are you sick? Shit, is Pops sick? Fuck, I can’t deal with that…”

“Neither of us are sick, sweetheart. Please calm down.”

“You want me to calm down then just tell me.”

“Miranda, just tell him, baby,” I heard my father say in the background.

My mother sighed, then said the last thing I ever expected to hear.

“It’s your sister…”

I frowned hard as hell. “I don’t have a sister.”

“Yes you do, Ryland. You have a sister and she needs you.”