Linebacker’s Second Chance(9)

Rich looks at me like he’s proud of his compliment, but I’ve heard it from him before.

“Gee thanks, Rich. I do appreciate it. Honestly—but Mack. Jesus. I can’t tell you why—but I can’t do it.” I swallow hard. Realistically, I know I’m Rich’s favorite. I’m everybody’s favorite. He’s right. I’m the best damn agent in this place. “I can take on any other project, move my schedule around, accommodate you any way you want...” My voice trails off and I bite my lip.

Rich taps his pencil against the desk. I’ve never refused a client before—and truth be told, I’ve dealt with a lot of men like Macklin. I’ve reformed their images a million times over. I work magic. But Macklin himself comes with a different set of concerns, ones I’m not willing to share with Rich.

My boss, Richard Darrow, owner of the top sports PR firm in the whole damn country, sighs deeply and gives me a legitimate stink-eye. “Ren, let me sweeten the deal. Macklin’s agent is going to pay us a lot. Because you know what? Macklin makes a hell of a lot of money. And his agent—Wingate something or other, his cousin—is willing to funnel a lot of money into this. This would come with a considerable bonus for you.”

I sit in the chair across from Rich, slumping down. Rich doesn’t offer bonuses unless it’s the holidays. He doesn’t offer anything to sweeten any deal. Working here is the sweetened deal for any PR agent in the sports business. My pulse quickens. “Say what now? Are you the real Rich I’m talking to? Not a clone?”

Rich laughs. “No, I’m not a clone. Wingate wants you, specifically, as Mack’s agent. And he’s willing to give you a sizable bonus.”

Me? God no. Don’t let it be a number I can’t refuse. Don’t let it be the answer to everything…

“No size will get me to do this, especially if Wingate requested me. Was it Wingate—or was it Mack?” I ask, leaning forward and putting my head in my hands. “You know what? I don’t really care who it was. Really, not at all.”

“Ren, Wingate whatshisface—” Rich looks at his laptop and hits the scroll down button. “Wingate Richards, that is—he’s willing to pay you $500,000 directly. And another $400,000 to me. Directly.”

Rich’s face lights up into a grin, and at the same time, my heart must stop—or my lungs, or something. Because I can’t feel myself breathing. That amount of money is life-changing, even for a woman with a $200,000 salary already. That kind of money pays off my house, every single one of my mother’s credit cards, my daddy’s debt at the farm, and helps finish off the college funds I started for my twin sisters—who are about to turn seventeen. That kind of money solves everything.

Goddammit.

“That’s a good amount of money. Why the hell is Wingate spending so much?” I feel my face grow hot at the thought of that much cash entering my bank account all at once. “That pays off… everything.”

“And for me, it buys the boat I’ve been looking at,” Rich replies with a wide, cheesy smile.

I glare at him. He knows how I feel about his boat since I’ve been working to get my family out of debt for years. It’s been a task. That kind of money all at once—that’s a game changer. That settles most everything and leaves room for more.

I groan. “Fine. Okay. I’ll do it. But under one condition—”

Rich examines me again, like he’s trying to figure something out. “I don’t know why you have such a problem with this kid, Renata. Do you know him or something?”

I shake my head, even though it’s a lie. Even though it’s a big, bold-faced, linebacker-sized lie. “Let me finish, Rich. I want limited contact with Macklin himself. I can reform his image, I can get him in line. But I’ll work through Wingate Richards.” There’s a big piece of my mind that’s shouting at me to backpedal and get the hell out of dodge before I agree to this travesty of an assignment. Money talks, though. My daddy was always right about that. “And I’ll take $250,000 up front, $250,000 after Mack’s job is secure. And $100,000 more if he retains his position with Carolina until the Super Bowl.”

Rich taps his pencil at me again and looks at me like he’s thinking. “With how much Wingate wants you, I think that can be arranged.” Rich pauses. “You know that Wingate fellow any? Is that what this is about?”

Rich, you’re a damn genius at public relations, but you can be thick as all get out. “Peripherally,” I shrug, like it’s no big deal. “That’s not what this is about. I just don’t like working with players with Mack’s reputation.” I may or may not stick my nose in the air when I say that. Those are true words, but hell, I work with athletes all the time, and they all have a reputation for something.