34. Cassandra
I carriedmy bag down the stairs just as the doorbell rang. After spending too long lazing in bed, I’d finally rounded up my laundry at Diego’s house, waiting for James to show up.
“Just a minute!” I called, grabbing a sweater from the couch to pull over my tank top before I opened the door. “James, nice to see you again!”
He beamed, his teeth bright enough to expertly walk the line between real or veneers. “Always a pleasure, Cassie.”
“Do you want something to drink? Eat?”
“No, thank you. This won’t take long.” He surveyed the living room, eyes flitting over my suitcase placed by the door as he held up a manila envelope. “Would you like to talk here, or perhaps the dining room?”
He didn’t wait for my reply, striding into the dining room. He unlatched the envelope, laying out two stacks of familiar looking paperwork out and gesturing for me to sit. I took a seat, glancing down at my initials scribbled on the first page of the NDA I’d signed months ago.
James unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat opposite me. He pushed one stack of paperwork in my direction and placed the other in front of him, straightening the edges so the stack aligned. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am that this arrangement worked out the way it did. Truly. When I launched the idea to Diego, I wanted to bring in a third-party and when he proposed you for the position, I was…concerned.”
“Concerned?” I raised an eyebrow, suppressing a laugh.
“Becca has proven herself a pivotal part of Diego’s off-season training and success. I was reticent to challenge that relationship. And then I ran a background check on you before moving forward.”
“Didn’t like what you saw?” I asked, only half-teasing. Men like James liked known quantities. Reliability.
He shifted in his seat but looked at me straight on. “No. Just unconvinced that you’d fulfill the terms of the contract.”
“Afraid I’d take off?”
“A mid-season break up after the flurry of press Diego and you generated would have made the Zoey situation much messier. But clearly, my concerns were unfounded. You’ve really gone above and beyond to fulfill your end of this deal. I can’t thank you enough.” He took a deep breath before his demeanor changed, shoulders straightening and jaw set. “And now that the contract is complete, I’d like to close it out before the holidays.”
“Got big holiday plans?” I asked.
“Not at all.” He shook his head, refusing to drop his business facade he’d put in place for this conversation. “Now, I wanted to review the agreement you signed to make sure that you handle any future press in compliance with the contract, of course. And then you can ask questions. If I can’t answer them, I’m happy to schedule a future meeting with the legal firm that drew up the contract. And finally, we’ll settle the matter of remittance.”
“Remittance?” My eyes widened.
“Your salary.”
“Salary?” I echoed.
Not for the first time, I wished I’d read the contract. While admitting to Diego I hadn’t bothered didn’t bother me, James had a school marm-esque look of disappointment that made me feel like a naughty student.
And sorting through my memories of talking to Diego about the contract, I didn’t remember a salary. Just football tickets, free drinks, and swag rooms, though those had been in low supply.
“Yes.” He pushed aside the NDA, flipping pages on the second contract. “As we agreed on in the initial contract.”
“Diego paid for all my travel and expenses.” I spoke slowly, sticking to the facts as I knew them, which wasn’t much. Faking my way through homework I didn’t complete.
“Right,” James drew the word out, eyes ripped away from the paperwork and onto me. “Those were business expenses. You weren’t contractually obligated to attend away games, but he paid for any expenses incurred for the games or vacations you chose to attend, such as Las Vegas and Mississippi.”
My cheeks heated as he pointed out two trips I’d definitely place in the “pleasure” category of travel. Not business.
“And, per the agreement, you receive a lump sum at the end of the contract and the final payment one year after the end of the relationship,” he continued.
I pushed aside the NDA and flipped through the contract until my eyes reached the end. “Holy shit.”
The five-digit “remittance” was more money than I’d ever seen in my lifetime. More money than I’d made in any single year.
“Fifty thousand dollars?” I breathed the words, barely believing them.
“Right,” James’ lips flattened into a straight line, and he cocked his head. “Fifty thousand today and an additional fifty thousand dollars at the start of next season, as long as the contract is upheld. You read this contract, correct?”
“I maybe skimmed over that part,” I admitted with a wince.
“Please tell me you’re joking.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright. That’s fine. I’m going to go ahead and make that appointment with the legal firm. Do you have a lawyer?”
“Do I look like the type of person who has a lawyer?” I answered honestly. I didn’t even have a primary care doctor. Certainly not a lawyer.
“If I tell you to get one, will you?” I shook my head and James sighed. “I’ll find one, but you’re paying the retainer.”
“Thanks.”
“Can I trust you to keep a low profile until you’ve talked to the lawyer?”
“For fifty thousand dollars, I would disappear to Asia right now,” I joked.
James raised an eyebrow. “That won’t be necessary. But maybe staying put in New Hampshire, for the time being, would be ideal. I can’t imagine any reporters will brave those mountains in the winter, but no interviews, no comments, no exposes.”
“No fun?”
“If your idea of ‘fun’ is compromising Diego’s reputation, then, yeah, no fun,” James answered with an iota of levity. “Actually, I’m going to get that consult with a lawyer set up now.”
“I’m joking. No one in their right mind is going up to Franklin Notch in November, and I’ll keep quiet. There’s really nothing to say.” I picked up the pen sitting on the stack of papers and signed the last line of the contract.
Done.
With a single pen stroke, I’d removed the legal ties that bound Diego and me together.
A mixture of relief and apprehension built in my chest. Whatever we did from this point forward had nothing to do with football or the press, only each other.
“That reminds me.” James reached back into the manila folder and pulled out a small white envelope. “I have one final thank you, a bonus of sorts.”
I took the envelope, removing an airline ticket.
“First class flight back to New Hampshire,” James said with a pleased smile. “Diego didn’t want you flying coach.”
A bloom of warmth spread over me. Then, my eyes wandered down to the flight information. “It’s for today.”
“Yep. This afternoon. Diego said you had already packed, so I have a car coming to pick you up in…” He picked up his arm and read the time on a silver Rolex. “Two hours.”
I pushed away a brief spurt of panic. No big deal. A gracious gesture, in fact. Diego didn’t want me flying coach, which considering the fifty grand payday he’d just dropped on my lap, I didn’t need, even so, nice. Sweet, even.
I flipped over the ticket, searching for the return information. “Is this one way?”
James collected the contracts, stuffing them back into the now-empty envelope. “Right. As for your car, don’t worry about that. I’ll have it transported back to New Hampshire, along with any furniture or belongings at Becca’s apartment. Unless you need to grab some things before your flight? I can call a car.”
I shook my head, confused. “No. I’ve got everything here.”
James pulled out his phone, tapping onto the screen. “I’ll send a cleaning crew to the apartment. If there’s anything left, I’ll have it boxed up and sent after you. Really, I don’t want you to worry about a thing.”
He stood up with a warm smile and held his hand over the table. “I appreciate this, Cassandra. Truly. I know Diego feels the same way. It’s been a pleasure having you on our team this season.”
Stunned, I stood and shook his hand, trying to make sense of the conversation. Had Diego just dumped me? Then again, could he really dump me if we weren’t dating in the first place? I walked James out of the house and shut the door as the confusion morphed into something akin to grief. I pushed the feeling away.
No, I’d call Diego and clear this whole thing up. If he wanted me gone, he wanted me gone, but he didn’t get to outsource that task to his agent.
I dialed his number, waiting through five painful rings before getting punted to voicemail. I hung up the phone and paced the living room, biting my lip to hold back tears.
Of course, he couldn’t answer. He’d be on the field or lifting weights. He wasn’t sitting by his phone waiting for my call. But the nagging fear that Diego asked James to settle the contract and get me out of his house while he was at practice bounced around the back of my mind.
I pocketed my phone and pulled out the check, running my fingers over the numbers.
Fifty thousand dollars.
More than enough money to make someone like me go away.
I closed my eyes, taking a breath.
Not Diego. He wouldn’t do that.
Only, hadn’t he before? At least, that’s what dozens of Internet sleuths had surmised after painstakingly combing through public records and interviews. Only, those hadn’t been records of the Diego I knew. Thought I knew.
After two hours without a reply, I gathered the last of my things and left Norwalk.