“Can you define 'the wrong people'? Obviously, he shouldn't sleep with his team owner's daughter and get caught on tape, but who else?”
“You'll know it when you see it, but for the most part–anyone.”
“I'm supposed to block a walking testosterone test tube from having sex with anyone?”
“If he wants to call someone from a discreet service, no problem,” Jody says.
I freeze, a rippling horror covering my skin. “Hamish uses services like that?”
“No.” Jody shakes his head. “Some guys do, but not him.” He sighs. “In some ways, it would be better. The professionals don't put up pictures of the footballers they screw on social media. The jersey chasers are the worst.”
“I'm focused on these jersey chasers, then. Like groupies? The ones sleeping with him to use him?”
“Yes. Anyone who represents possible scandal.”
“That's not what you just said, Jody. You said to prevent him from sleeping with anyone, period.”
“It's... tricky.”
Quintana gives him a sharp look.
“Some of these footballers really are–how did you put it?–walking testosterone test tubes. They pump themselves up on the pitch, and when the game's over, they have to eject all those hormones somehow. The problem is, it's as if all the testosterone erases executive function from their brains.”
“A neutralizing agent.”
He laughs. “Exactly. We need someone who sees that. Who understands that the job is about discretion, pattern-matching, stepping in when needed and backing off when it's smart. If all we needed was someone to cockblock–”
Quintana clears her throat with implied meaning.
“Sorry.” He shrugs. “But that is eighty percent of the job.”
“Not one hundred percent, though,” I say, slowly beginning to understand. “This is a full-time, on-the-road position, but it's more than stopping him from dipping his wick. It's a combination of marketing, PR management, sports psychology, and good old-fashioned scold.”
“Scold! That's about ninety-nine percent of the job. The rest is the final one percent, combined,” Jody confirms.
“And Maartensi is prepared to put these sorts of resources behind Hamish?” I ask Quintana, who looks at the clock and nods.
“We are. And behind you, Amy. You could be a rising star if this all works out. The endorsement deal that's on the line is eight figures. A completely new football league is worth far more.”
“This is not the job offer I thought I'd be contemplating when I walked in this room, Quintana.”
Unreadable eyes meet mine. “It's in your email. Password protected.”
“More details are in there, I assume?”
Jody nods. “It's quite detailed. Hamish is highly disciplined when it comes to football itself, and physical fitness. His body really is his temple.”
“His ability to worship himself is not in question,” I reply, earning stunned laughter from Jody.
“As I said, you really do know him well.”
“I know his type.”
“If you take the job, you'll be surrounded by his type.”
“Will I have an ibuprofen budget, then?”
“Expense all your alcohol,” Jody says in a jovial voice, but I can tell he's serious.
As I take a long, deep breath, we three sit in silence. The view behind Quintana is intoxicating. Everyone starts somewhere–right? I may be offered this specific position because of my connection to the McCormick family, but I have to earn the right to climb the ladder, the same as anyone else.
By doing the best job possible.
Can I handle being on the road with Hamish McCormick, though? After that kiss at graduation, the one last Thanksgiving, and all the vulgar come-ons?
My entire, full-time-plus job will be fending off his advances, and worse–stopping him from sleeping with anyone else who, in my professional opinion, would be inappropriate.
Given Hamish's tastes, that probably does mean everyone.
“If I succeed, it's a guaranteed promotion, Quintana?” I ask, deciding to be bold. Walking out of here and saying no is an option. A painful one, but an option.
“Do this, and as I said, you'll be considered for interim principal, working on the league account. If you get the risk management angle on this assignment, we can consider you for something in that division, too.”
Interim principal. When I said it earlier, I was taking a leap. Hearing it out of her mouth, it becomes my potential future.
Oh, boy.
I thought it would take years to reach that point.
This job is a shortcut. An opportunity. A stepping stone.
But it's also a free fall.
When you're on the verge of doing something daring, the longer you wait, the more the fear invades. It can build until it paralyzes you.
Leap, or walk away. Don't dither.
So I leap.
“I'll do it on one condition. Let's talk about the contract. There's a clause I'd like to add.”
Hamish
“I canna accept this shite!” I shout across the desk. Jody's tone is one of conciliation. I've heard it before, but never under these circumstances.
“I know it's not what you want–”
At the sound of my bellow, Jody's little bawtie, Schlomo, jumps into his lap. It's a Havanese, all beige puff. Jody absentmindedly scratches the beast's ears as I take in his words.
“That's the understatement of the year.”
“But the league is requiring it, and so is the company dangling eight figures in front of you, Hamish. To put it bluntly, you don't have a choice.”
“I can still walk away.”
“Yes. You can. Is that really what you want?”
“I want ma freedom!”
“Freedom? Is that what you call being the victim of a secret sex tape?”
“Ach. I dinna care about that. It's silly and embarrassin’, but I've done nothin’ wrong.”
“You slept with your team owner's daughter.”
“Aye. Two consentin’ adults.”
“You don't see anything inappropriate there?”
“Naw. She liked it. I liked it. What's wrong wi' that?”
“And the time you slept with the daughter of the football writer doing that big investigative piece on the league?”
“Wasna ma fault she was in the same nightclub as me that night.”
“It's never your fault when you sleep with the wrong person, is it, Hamish?”
“How can ye sleep with a person who's 'wrong,' Jody? Ye ever have guid sex? If it feels guid enough, it's always right. I canna disappoint a sweet hen when she's givin’ me the eye. I have somethin’ that she needs, and it costs me naught but time to help her. Ye know how that feels?”
“Your reputation matters.”
“Ma reputation isna what gets the endorsements or wins games. It's ma body and ma footwork. What I do in ma sex life has naught to do wi' either.”
“You may think that, but the corporate sponsors and the league have a very different opinion.”