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I smiled wider at his easy agreement. Since it was just the two of us, he always packed up and followed me wherever I went. Being retired had its benefits. Plus, he said it was great to make new friends in whatever place we landed.
When I wanted to switch to a private school for better access to coaching, he made it happen. The second a college offered me a full-ride to play for them, he was packing his bags. There’s never been a moment where I didn’t have his support.
“No big move just yet. Need to lock in a new agent and see about getting signed. How do you feel about Cajun cooking?”
He howled so loud I had to pull the phone back. The people shuffling around me on the sidewalk stared in confusion. I guess it wasn’t everyday you heard a grown man sound like a dying coyote on a cell phone.
When he finished, I put the device to my ear to see what the man had to say.
“Finally, I’m going to get some good food. None of this crunchy salad crap they always want to serve me. Deep fried and soaked in seasoning. You better get moving on the paperwork or whatever. I’m going to start looking for rentals. I already know where you want to go."
I heard the familiar click of his tongue that signaled he was going to hang up. Shaking my head, I finally left the front of the restaurant to head to my car. I always preferred driving myself, even though it would have been in my best interest to hire a vehicle and a guard with the way some people were.
Fans were wild cards. Sometimes they could be chill about meeting me. Other times, I worried they’d try to kidnap me and take me to their worship lair as a sacrifice. It was tricky to navigate being one of the top players in the whole fucking country.
Thankfully, there wasn’t anyone out to get me tonight. I made it to my car and back home without incident. The second I was tucked away inside, I grabbed my laptop and sank onto the couch.
My bookmarks tab held the keys to the kingdom. With a single click, I was able to pull up the website I needed first.
Grizzly Thorson, Sports Agent.
I stared at the plain website, noting for the millionth time how it looked. There was no character behind it. No flashy details like most agents had. Just simple colors and clean fonts.
For some reason that made me like him more. Grizzly seemed like the type of agent to care about the details for his clients. His focus wasn’t on getting attention or making himself look great.
Scrolling down the page brought me to the basic “contact me” box. I’d typed and retyped what I wanted to send for months. I figured reaching out to him wouldn’t do any harm, yet I’d held back given my relationship with Holb. Monogamy was important to me, even when it came to my agents. I was loyal beyond what most considered the standard.
The thought made me pause. I pushed the laptop away for a second as I pulled out my phone. I shot off an email to my lawyer outlining what to do about Holb, along with a request to look at any new paperwork that would come in soon.
With that handled, I tugged the laptop close again and went about writing to Grizzly. I wanted this man to be my agent so badly. And if I were being honest, I just wanted to meet him in person too. He was handsome as fuck. All barrel chested and hairy — a huge turn-on for me.
My attraction to him would have to take a backseat if he became my agent. I’d keep things professional to avoid being creepy.
Didn’t mean I couldn’t admire him from a distance.
Or up close, if he agreed to work with me.
I shook away the lusty thoughts to focus on my words. Making a good first impression was important. My gut told me this was it.This was the opening I’d been waiting for. The moment to shift everything to be my most authentic self.
From the extensive research I’d done, Grizzly was connected to most of the queer athletes in Bellport. Either he was personal friends with them, or he was their agent. The fact that they trusted him spoke volumes.
Instinct told me he was a good one. That he’d fight for me the right way.
I read over the message one last time, making sure everything was correct about my contact details. While I had hopes of reaching him this way, I wasn’t above flying down to him for something in person. No telling how backed up his inbox was.
After hitting send, I checked on my grades to verify there was nothing outstanding. There were only a few more weeks of school left. I’d worked hard to get most of the classwork itself done. Finals were about the only thing I had left, but professors were known for throwing in a last-minute project or two. They claimed it kept us on our toes.
Once I knew I was good, I laid back on the couch to relax. Less than ten minutes passed before I heard the familiar knock on my door.
Sighing, I went to answer the unexpected visitor. Then again, he was never truly expected. My friend had a habit of popping in whenever he felt like it.
“What are you doing here, brat?” I asked the minute I saw him.
Doyle rolled his eyes like usual. “I’m not a brat. Today, at least. I saw the video online from your meeting with the dickbag. Figured you could use a pick-me-up.”
It was then I noticed the box in his hands. It was stamped with the logo from his fiancé’s bakery. While I was a fan, I didn’t often indulge because I’d only pay for it in training later. Pastries going in felt glorious. Burning off the fat and calories was not.
“You can come in, I guess.”
