I grin smugly. “Just watch.”
The play goes into motion. Oregon’s quarterback takes three steps back, the ball gripped in both hands as he searches for his man. Maybe he would have found him, maybe he wouldn’t, but he only gets three seconds to try. In that time #39 breaks through the offensive line, tosses the center like he’s made of paper, and rushes the quarterback. He only gets a chance to threaten him before the QB sends the ball away, flinging it to the safety of the sidelines, but it’s all he needed to kill the play.
“So he’s a wrecking ball,” Hollis yawns. “He’s not the first guy to break through Oregon’s O-line.”
“That’s not the first time he did it that day. It was the fifth.”
“Really?”
“He did the same thing to Washington and USC. Cut through their line like a hot knife in butter. Sacked USC’s guy three times in the second half. Colorado lost all of those games, but the only reason Oregon or USC or anyone last season wasn’t able to run up the score on them was because of this guy. Chris Keyton.” I tap the TV remote against my lips, smiling faintly. “He’s my next sign. He’ll go first round for sure.”
“How? No one knows about him?”
“He needs to get a promo video out there. He needs some hype built around him.”
“And you can’t help with that. Not while he’s still a college player.”
“I can’t help him financially. I can always offer him advice, though. Give him some contacts to get him moving in the right direction. It’s nothing more than any other agent out there is doing.”
“It’s what agents at lesser agencies do. Brad won’t like it. He’ll think it makes us look desperate.”
I roll my eyes, spinning around in my chair to face the window. “Brad never likes anything I do. But who got their client on the team of their dreams in the top five at the Draft?”
“I wouldn’t lead with that argument when you present this guy to him.”
I lick my lips. “I’m not presenting him.”
My declaration is met with an expected silence. I turn in my chair slowly to face Hollis. He’s waiting for me.
“Sloane,” he says cautiously, “now is not a good time for you to go behind your dad’s back. He’s already annoyed about Trey. Full disclosure is your only option here.”
“No matter who I choose to sign next, he’ll take them from me out of spite.”
“Yes, he will. And that’s his right as the head of this agency.”
“Bullshit,” I bark angrily.
“It’s how it is.”
“He wouldn’t do it to you.”
“It’s not personal with me,” he reminds me steadily. “You’re his daughter. You’re not supposed to be better at this than he is. Not right away and not in his house.”
“It doesn’t help that I’m a woman either.”
“No, it definitely doesn’t.” He stands, looking down at me heavily. “Scout someone else. Someone that doesn’t matter to you, because you won’t get to keep them anyway. Let him burn you this year, get it out of his system, and start looking toward next year.”
I feel my face flush red with rage. I bite the inside of my lip until I taste blood, unable and unwilling to agree with Hollis.
He nods in silent understanding, turning to leave the room without another word.
I wait until he’s gone to snap my laptop shut. It cuts the feed, leaving me with a black TV screen that reflects my face like a mirror. I look ghostly and strange. Tight lipped. Rigid. I feel my frustration coiling in my veins as I stare at myself, asking my reflection what will I do? Signing Trey was supposed to be my shot at becoming a major player at the agency, but even though I did everything right and got him everything he asked for, I’m no better off having signed him than I was before. If anything, I’m in a worse position because here I sit pining away for him, celibate as a nun, while he’s out partying with his teammates and models and vodka soaked bartenders. His career is taking off and I’ll have to lay this next year of my life down as penance at my dad’s feet and hope to do better on the year after. But will I? Will Brad let me or will I forever be a mule bringing him star after star to sign under his own name until I’m nothing but an assistant?
Nothing but his bitch.
I stand abruptly, knocking my chair back so hard it rolls into the floor to ceiling window with a hollow thud. Trey’s game will have ended by now. The Buccaneers lost, poor bastards, but now that he’s been unleashed on the world we’re all destined to fall in Trey’s wake at some point. It’s a misery, but you know what they say; it loves company.