“…While your initial wages will be low for the Premier League because you’re new and need to prove yourself, we can boost them with sponsorship deals, and there’s a clause in your contract that allows us to renegotiate your wage if you make enough of an impression. That means regular games, scoring goals, you know the drill.”
“What are the sponsorship deals?”
He picked up his briefcase, laying it on the table and unclipping the catches. “Let me see… I’ve rejected a couple already. The supplements, no. The energy drinks, no again—”
“But I like energy drinks!”
“Yes, but the club already has an endorsement deal with another brand. You won’t be allowed to drink anything but that brand. Not in public, at least.”
“No more Pacific Punch?” I pouted, earning an eye roll from Rory.
“I’m sure you’ll survive. Now, here’s a sponsorship deal that I think might interest you. It’s an underwear brand aimed at the eighteen-to-twenty-something market. Guys who are seriously into working out and looking good. The social media posers like you that enjoy flaunting their six-packs everywhere they go.” He patted his own slightly soft middle. “Unlike me.”
I laughed. “You’ve still got it. You’re a daddy. A zaddy, in fact. Women go crazy for that shit, trust me.”
He gave a long-suffering sigh, pinching his brow. He loved me, really. “I don’t even want to know what a ‘zaddy’ is, and aside from that, how would you know that women go crazy for it?”
“Because.” Pulling my phone from my pocket, I scrolled through my social media until I found the picture of Rory I’d posted earlier today. Dressed in his smartly tailored suit, with his neatly trimmed beard and styled hair, he was walking through the car park towards me, briefcase in one hand and a takeaway coffee cup in the other. The sun was gleaming on his dark hair, and I’d caught him at a flattering angle, if I did say so myself.
I grinned. “Look at the comments and likes on this post.”
I’d captioned the image, “Big things are coming… Meeting my agent @rorynashagent,” and about twenty seconds after I’d posted it, I’d received a huge flood of likes and comments. The image now had over twelve thousand likes, and as for the comments… I handed Rory my phone, watching with a grin as he scanned the screen, a flush appearing on his cheeks.
The minds of some women…and some gay men…they could be really fucking dirty at times. Some of the comments even made me blush. Well, not really. I was used to that shit. Half of my social media was me posing, because let’s face it, if you’ve got it, you might as well fucking flaunt it. The other half was all related to football. The number of propositions I’d had in my DMs—I’d need at least two dicks and two lifetimes to service every woman that wanted a piece of me.
I wasn’t exaggerating. Much.
Rory handed the phone back to me, his mouth in a flat line, and I couldn’t stop the laugh bursting from my lips. “See? They want you, bro. They’ll be hitting up your DMs, I guarantee.”
“I’m not your bro,” he clipped out. “And I would appreciate you not posting my image without permission.”
“It’s an expression for friends. Like dude. Or mate. Or bruv. Get with the times, grandad. Or should I call you ‘zaddy’?” He gave me a warning look when I tapped my chin, pretending to think about it, and I relented. “Alright, I’m sorry I posted your photo without asking you first, but look at it this way. Thanks to me, you might actually get laid this century.”
“I don’t get paid enough for this,” he muttered darkly, but I could see him trying to bite back a smile.
I pasted on my best innocent smile. “None of your other clients care for your well-being as much as I do. Here I am, thinking of your poor, neglected di—”
“Jordan Emery. Enough.” He used what I called his “teacher” voice, which he brought out when he needed me to be serious. “Now, do you want this underwear brand endorsement or not?”
Playtime was over. “How much are they offering, and are they using any other sports personalities? What’s their ethical stance?”
Pulling up their company info on my phone, Rory and I went over the offer they’d sent me, and just under an hour later, he’d composed an email to say that we were interested and would like to see the full contract. As he sent the email, his inbox pinged with an alert, and he glanced up at me with a smile.
“Glevum FC just confirmed receipt of your contract. You’re officially a professional footballer in the Premier League.”
A wide grin split my face, and I jumped up from my chair, rounding the desk and throwing my arms around my agent. “I couldn’t have done it without you. Thanks, Ror. I know you put up with a lot of shit from me.”
He ruffled my hair, and I made a mental note to check a mirror before I stepped outside again. “Ah, you’re worth it, I suppose. Want to celebrate with champagne? I have a bottle on ice.”
“You were that confident I’d sign?” Hopping up onto the desktop next to his chair, I grinned down at him.
“Yes. You’re not the type to let a petty feud stand in the way of your dreams. You just needed me to remind you of that fact.”
As he called his assistant, Sunita, to bring the champagne in, popping the cork and pouring three brimming glasses, I lost myself in imagining Theo’s reaction to my signing and ousting him of his position.
I couldn’t wait to see his face. In fact… While Rory and Sunita were occupied with the champagne, I quickly pulled up my social media messaging app. While I didn’t have Theo’s phone number, I had his social media details. The fucker had more followers than me, but that would soon change once the news of my signing came out.
@jordanemery_official:
Heard the news yet? Looking forward to your new position on the left???
A reply came through almost straight away, but I had to wait until Rory’s attention was diverted again before I checked my messages. He would most definitely not approve of me antagonising my future teammate.
When I finally got a second to myself, I opened the app, a grin pulling at my lips as I read Theo’s response.
@theolewin_official:
Do me a favour and block me, Emery
@jordanemery_official:
That’s no way to greet your new teammate
@theolewin_official:
Don’t get used to it. Harvey will soon see he’s made a mistake
@jordanemery_official:
Haha I wouldn’t be so sure
@theolewin_official:
I would. I’ve been here since the beginning of the season. Where were you? Oh yes, you were playing for a sub-par team in league 2
@jordanemery_official:
Fuck right off. FGR are not a sub-par team you egotistical wanker
@theolewin_official:
Regardless, the fact remains that I was the one signed to a top-tier team and you’re only here because Knowles was injured, and you were dirt cheap. As soon as he’s back to full fitness, you’ll be relegated to the sidelines where you belong