CHAPTER 8 Everleigh Bradley
Ear Up to the Wall
I finally check the group chat messages when I’m inside my new place.
Ford: Probably a Hemsworth. Is it?
Liam: Liam Hemsworth? (The best of the Hemsworth bros, BTW)
Dex: She’s in Vegas, not Hollywood. My guess is Carrot Top.
Madden: Must be someone big for your organization to allow you to give up your entire client roster. I’m guessing some CEO caught in a scandal. Maybe that dude that went viral at that concert on the kiss cam.
Ivy: Hmm, someone in Vegas…Wayne Newton?
Dex: How do you even know who Wayne Newton is? Aren’t you like 16?
Ivy: I’m 21, thank you very much, and I was WITH YOU in Vegas when I turned 21. Remember? OH! Backstreet Boys???
Dex: I just saw her at the Complex. It’s Maverick Jennings.
I finally reply to the group.
Me: Dex is right. It’s Maverick Jennings.
Madden: A football player.
Me: A football player. [sobbing face emoji]
I stare out at the view from this place. I’ve already done a walk through every room, and maintenance did a fantastic job sprucing it up to look brand new. It wasn’t in bad shape before, but it’s pristine and move-in ready now, and I’m ready to move in.
The place came furnished, and what’s in here is good enough for now. If I decide to stay here long-term, I can replace furniture, and it certainly beats living out of a hotel.
Even if I’m living next to my enemy.
I’m still not quite sure what our schedule is going to be.
I don’t know how we’re going to compromise on much of anything, and since the Aces organization has given me full access to Maverick along with the threat that he’ll be benched if he doesn’t do whatever I say, I suppose I can just do whatever I want.
Task number one is figuring out what that’ll look like.
After I stare out at this view a little while longer.
I can see from the Strat all the way down to Mandalay Bay. It’s the same view Dex has several floors above me, and it’s likely the same view Maverick has next door.
I could stand here all day staring. Vegas isn’t in my blood the way it’s in Dex’s, but the view is gorgeous, and I imagine it borders magical once it gets dark and the lights turn on.
I force myself to turn away.
I need to get to the hotel and grab my suitcase. I need to stop at a store and buy some linens. I need groceries, too. Maybe a one-stop-shop big box retailer kind of place.
I’m about to head out despite my reservations about running into my neighbor when I hear a strange noise.
Thud…thud…thud…
It’s a dull, repetitive sound with a bit of a hum, and I move over toward the wall I share with Maverick.
I would’ve imagined the walls in this gorgeous building are thicker than they are, but as I get closer and put my ear up to the wall, I finally place the sound.
Thud…thud…thud…
It’s the sound of shoes slapping against the belt of a treadmill.
And it’s happening right on the other side of my wall.
The doctor cleared Maverick for light cardio, and he’s on his treadmill the second he gets home. I mean, good for him. Even though I shouldn’t have said it might improve his mood, I meant it.
Knowing he’s on his treadmill at least clears me for walking out of the building without perchance running into him, so I head out to take care of my errands.
Three hours later, it’s all done…except now I have to figure out some way to carry everything I just bought up into my condo.
I texted Dex when I left the store.
Me: Are you home and able to help me unload some stuff from my car?
I have a reply when I put the car in park in the parking garage of the building. I pull into the spot assigned to my condo that’s on the left since a rather large truck is taking up half my space on the right. Someone lives here now, asshole, I think to myself.
Dex: No, sorry. Milton can help.
I head down to the front desk and ask Milton, “Do you have a cart or something I can use to carry a bunch of stuff from my car up to my condo?”
He nods. “I have a cart and these hands.” He smiles as he flexes his fingers.
I grin. “Dex told me to ask you. You’re the best.”
He grabs the cart, and we head to my car, unload everything, and he helps me up to the seventeenth floor with all of it.
“I’ll request Mr. Jennings keep his truck within his lines,” he says, and of course it’s Maverick’s truck lazily parked halfway into one of my spaces. I mean, I don’t need it, but that doesn’t mean he’s entitled to it. “Can I help you unload, ma’am?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I can take it from here if you don’t mind your cart being returned in an hour or so.”
“Of course. Call me when you’re finished so I can come get it.”
“Thanks, Milton,” I say.
As he takes the elevator down, I wonder…am I supposed to tip him? I have no idea how this works. I owned my house in Chicago—which I still do. I didn’t sell it because I didn’t know how permanent this move was going to be.
At least a year, I suppose.
I throw my new sheets and towels into the washer, put away my groceries, and get my place organized. I put on some music and hum as I work, and I think as I hum.
I think through the plan with Maverick.
I think through the best way to handle him.
I need to do a little research. I don’t know much about him at all other than what came up on the headlines when I searched him earlier.
I know I have full rein, but I don’t want to piss him off further on day one. I want him to see me as an ally, though I know it’s going to take a hell of a lot of work to get there.
His first team meetings start at seven in the morning most days, and he likely has treatment and breakfast ahead of those meetings.
I think we’ll need to touch base each morning at the very least to go over the strategy for the day.
We’ll start daily with a quick check-in and any necessary coaching for the day’s media coverage, charity events, meetings, that sort of thing.
As I glance through his schedule, it looks like his days are packed pretty full at the practice facility, but there are breaks built in—time to get into gear for practice, a bit of time after lunch.
They’re short windows but enough to have a quick one-on-one to review headlines, discuss social media, coordinate events, and strategize.
We could even meet over lunch, but I think it’s more important for him to eat with his teammates since that should be bonding time.
So that leaves me with evenings. It looks like he will generally leave the practice facility between five and six each night provided he doesn’t have additional responsibilities, so we can touch base from six until whenever each night.
I need to set boundaries, and I think it’s important he does, too.
I jot down a few notes so I don’t forget anything I came up with during my humming-slash-work session, and then I grab the cart to return it to Milton.
I don’t think twice about exiting my condo. I take the elevator down, thank Milton, and run into my brother, who’s just coming in with his wife and son. We get on the elevator together.
“Where are you three coming from?” I ask.
“Not Dad’s lounge,” Dex quips, and then his eyes widen a little.
“Dad’s lounge?” I echo. “Dad has a lounge here in Vegas?”
He clears his throat. “Yeah. It’s a VIP place. He tried to rope me into helping him run it, and I did for a while, but I’m out now.” He shakes his head. “It’s kind of a running joke between Ains and me. I’m not sure why those words slipped out. I wasn’t supposed to say anything.”
“I want to know more.”
The elevator opens and lets me off on my floor, and Dex pushes the button to close the doors before he has to tell me more. I roll my eyes. I guess I’ll just ask my father myself.
I’m sliding my keys into my door when Maverick exits his condo.
He stares at me, and it’s unnerving.
“Did the workout help?” I ask.
He narrows his eyes at me. “How’d you know I worked out?”
“I could hear your treadmill through the wall.” I shrug. Maybe I should be embarrassed, but I’m not.
“Did you hear anything else?” he asks, and for a moment, I wonder if he had a woman in there with him. I’m not sure why that’s the particular thought that crosses my mind. It’s none of my business what he does in his spare time.
Actually…that’s not true. Everything he does is my business. Including who he’s sleeping with. That’s part of his image, too. Right?
I can see why he hates me. But he’s been pretty aggressive toward me, too—like telling Jack that I hit on him.
I’m still not over that one. I may never be.
But I have to act like I am, or none of this is ever going to work.
“I wasn’t listening. I was getting my own place set up.”
He holds up both hands. “Don’t let me stop you.” He walks toward the elevator to press the button, but before he does, my voice stops him.
“I’m working on drafting a schedule. We’ll touch base before, during, and after practice each day, but where would you like to schedule our longest meeting of the day? Before or after practice?”
“Our longest meeting?” he repeats. He turns toward me.
“Yes. We’ll need several sessions each day—when you’re back to practice of course. Until then, we have ample time to assess the current situation and get a strategy together.”
“Ample time?” he echoes.
“Yes.” I nod resolutely.
“What exactly are your qualifications to be working with me?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at me.
I grit my teeth together as I try to maintain professionalism.
“I double majored in behavioral science and media studies, and I have a master’s in marketing.
I started at Langford right out of college and moved my way through the ranks into brand strategist about five years ago.
I’ve worked with hundreds of clients, and I know what I’m doing. ”
He turns to press the button. “Keep the meetings short, and we will only discuss what is an absolute necessity as deemed by the team.”
“Great,” I say brightly. “We’ll start tomorrow morning at eight sharp at the practice facility. Same conference room as this morning.”
“The fuck we will,” he mutters.
“Excuse me?” I ask, pretending like I missed what he said.
The elevator doors open, and he steps on. “I’m not going to the practice facility on game day. We’ll meet downstairs in the conference center in this building.”
“See you in the morning,” I say, and I shoot him a sugary sweet smile as the elevator doors close.
I regret that eight o’clock demand, but I can’t change it.
Instead, I guess I’ll work my ass off, pull an all-nighter, do my research, and show up ready to impress the unimpressible.