Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85838 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 429(@200wpm)___ 343(@250wpm)___ 286(@300wpm)
I smile. I feel good again. “Now you’re talking.”
He reaches for the collar of my shirt, fingers it, then lets go. “This whole look you’ve got going on?”
“Yeah?” I ask.
“You have style. You dress well, but you have this sexy playful vibe too. You don’t dress like you’re going to an office, but you don’t slum it in sweats either. You have exactly the style for an upmarket menswear brand trying to reach young men who want to look good but don’t want to look like their fathers. That’s what I want to find for you.”
Holy shit. This guy does his motherfucking homework. I am sold. “Do it, Maddox. Fucking do it.”
“That’s my goal.” He glances at his watch. “And now it’s time to get your car and get you onto the field.”
Twenty minutes later, I slide into the town car, wishing this day weren’t ending. But I executed my strategy today and nailed this at-bat. What’s the harm in taking another swing?
“You do know we have a four-game series?” I ask from inside the car.
“I do.”
“You should come to one of the games.” Then I pull closed the door and tell the driver to take me to the ballpark.
I sure hope Maddox shows up.
3
BOSS’S ORDERS
Maddox
Vance lets out a low whistle of approval from the other side of the video call.
“Damn. This is some serious progress,” my boss says as he reviews the list of brands Adriana and I’ve snagged for preliminary phone meetings in the last forty-eight hours.
Framed by a view of Central Park, Vance peers at the memo from yours truly. Adriana sits next to him, perched straight and tall, eager for his feedback too. I’m at my office in the heart of Los Angeles, squeezing a stress ball as I pace by the floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the Avenue of the Stars.
I’m not stressed. I just like to make every minute count. I’ve been busy the last two days, and it shows in the report I sent my boss and in the work Adriana and I have knocked out. We want him to be impressed, and he damn well should be.
“Sweet,” Vance says, clearly pleased as he counts off on his fingers. “You’ve got a water-bottle maker, a podcast network, and Bespoke. This is so Zane. All the stuff he loves.”
Yes, that’s how I work. “They’re all a good fit, and we’ve spoken with their CMOs,” I say, squeezing the red ball again. My grip strength is epic.
“The bottle maker is a more distant possibility. They’re trying to figure out if they have enough marketing firepower yet to invest in an athlete,” Adriana says.
“Understandable,” Vance says.
“The podcast network has promise, since they have big corporate ownership and, thus, deep pockets,” she adds.
“Bespoke, though, is the one we’re most excited about,” I say, tag-teaming our update.
Vance taps the screen with a query. “That’s the clothing brand that all the millennials dig, right?”
I laugh. “Technically, you’re a millennial too. Elder millennial.”
He shudders. “Pretty sure I’m Gen X. Maybe even baby boomer.”
He’s just north of forty, so no. “Bespoke focuses on the fashion forward generation of twenty- and thirty-somethings.”
“I’ve seen their ads on my phone. Love their clothes for, like, me before I got married and had kids. Anyway, this is fantastic, and I am a genius for hiring you two.”
Pride suffuses me. I love praise. Barely got it growing up, so here at work, I eat it up. But I can’t rest on this slice of praise pie. I’m one of the best sports agents in the country because I carved out a niche as a top matchmaker of brands and clients, and I don’t stop.
But I’m not the only one busting my ass. Adriana works hard too. “You do look like a genius, especially since Adriana has some kind of magic,” I say.
Adriana smiles like it’s no big deal. “Maddox reeled in most of them. I just helped out.”
“Well, I’m stoked for what you’re both doing. I can’t wait to tell Zane about this progress,” Vance says.
A knot of longing tightens in my chest. I’d love to be the one to give Zane the good news if a deal comes to pass. But this is Vance’s turf. He’s worked with him longer. He’s earned the right to deliver happy headlines.
Though, maybe not yet. “Let’s make sure we have something to share first. I’d like to move one of these brands further before you call him. Cart before the horse and all.”
Vance flicks a hand as if waving off his plan to jump the gun. “Fair point. I guess that’s another reason I hired you two. You’re so fucking reasonable and shit.” Then, he clears his throat. “Talk to me about Braxton Arrow. What’s cooking there?”
Ah, a lot, I hope. Braxton’s a kicker in need of a new agent. He racked up five stellar seasons with the New York Rebels and is eager to hire new representation. He’s an LA guy, born and bred, so I’ve been tasked with courting him.