“I’m sure. Out.”
He slams the door shut behind her, dropping his head as he leans his palms against its white surface. “Are you on something?” he asks tiredly.
“No.”
“You should be.”
“You’re not the first person to say that.”
He sighs, dropping his hands as he stands up straight. “Listen to me, Trey. Put your damn hand down and listen to me. I have a solution. One you’re going to like.”
“Does it keep you on my contract?”
“Yes, but it gives you what you want.”
I hesitate, not sure how that’s possible. “What I want is you off my contract.”
“And who do you want in my place?”
“Sloane. I want Sloane.”
“No. What you want is money. We all do.”
“That’s not what this about.”
He chuckles softly as he crosses to the couch by the window, falling gracefully into the plush leather. “Money is always what it’s about, even when we think it’s not. You’re here because you don’t feel that I’ve earned my keep representing you. I disagree. Again, I cite the endorsement deals I’ve brought to you and the ones I’ll be able to bring you in the future if you stop beating hundreds of thousands of dollars out of your hand and into my walls. Now sit your ass down, and listen to my proposal.”
I turn to face him dead on, crossing my arms over my chest, but I do not sit down.
Ashford gives me a ‘have it your way’ face before relaxing back into the couch. He laces his fingers over his chest comfortably.
“What you want is for the money the agency makes from your contracts, your professional career contracts,” he clarifies, “to go to Sloane. Correct?”
“Yeah.”
“Done.”
I frown, unconvinced. “What’s the catch?”
“It’s not so much a catch as a caveat. A caveat is a stipulation to an agreement.”
“I went to college. I know what a caveat is.”
Ashford shrugs. “The education system being what it is, you never know.”
“What’s the caveat?”
“You stay with me on endorsements.”
“No.”
“Take a second to think about it. Has Sloane done any leg work for you on endorsement deals?”
I shake my head reluctantly. “No. Not that I know of.”
“Because she doesn’t have the contacts for it. Coaches and GMs, they love her. She speaks their language. But ad execs don’t give a shit how many touchdowns you threw in college. They want to know if they can photograph you naked wearing a pair of Oakleys and plaster it on billboards across the country.”
“I’m not doing that,” I growl.
“And that’s why you need me. I know how to negotiate them down to swim trunks on Huntington Beach and still get you over half a million dollars. I can help you pick up endorsements like STDs at a whorehouse. Sloane will never be able to do that for you.”
My hand pulses angrily, the skin around my knuckles screaming in hot fury, but I take my time. I control the pain and the situation. I wait him out until he unlaces his hands, leaning forward on his knees impatiently.
“This is the best deal I’m going to give you, Trey, and it’s a good one. It gives you everything you want. Fame. Wealth.”
Sloane, I think ardently.
I step forward, offering him my hand covered in plaster, pain, and blood.
“Deal.”
Wilshire Regent Condominiums
Los Angeles, CA
“It was a nightmare,” Hollis groans at the ceiling.
I take a slow sip of my wine, looking down at him on the floor from where I’m curled up on the couch. “It must have been, because you’ve gone full diva on the ground.”
“Don’t be a bitch.”
“Don’t be a drama queen.”
“He wore a tank top to dinner. I’ve earned this.”
“Where’d you meet him?”
“The gym, where he was also wearing a tank top. I had no idea it was the only type of shirt he owned.”
“Maybe he’s legally required to keep his guns in plain view. Not everyone has a concealed weapons permit.”
Hollis rolls his head on the plush white rug, glaring at me. “You think you’re being funny, don’t you?”
“A little bit, yeah.”
“It’s not funny. It’s tragic. I give up. I’m going to go be gay somewhere else. It’s not working out here.”
I snort. “If you can’t make being gay work in Los Angeles, you can’t make it work anywhere.”
“The New York office could be nice.”
“You can’t leave me and I can’t move to New York. The air quality is shit. My asthma can’t handle it.”
He sits up, his hair falling wildly over his forehead. “The air quality in L.A. is shit!”
“Yeah, but it’s the shit I know. It’s probably what gave me my asthma. If I go somewhere else my system will go into shock and I’ll die.”
“Now who’s being a drama queen?”
“You’re staying here.”
“I hate you.”
“I love you.”
“I know.”
My land line rings on the glass table next to me. Hollis frowns at it. “Are you expecting anyone?”
“No.”