Chapter 1
Becca
“Becca,” the male caller says when he answers the phone.
“Mr. Grant,” I say, tapping my Mont Blanc pen on my desk. I lean back in my office chair, looking out the window at the bright sun.
“You know shit is real when you call me Mr. Grant,” Matthew says, and I laugh.
Sitting up straight in my chair, I say, “I’m wearing a different hat today. Usually when I call you, it’s about making you pay more money.” Matthew is the general manager for the New York Stingers, and as a sports agent, I have a couple of clients on his team. He comes from hockey royalty, so it’s no surprise his son is following in his footsteps.
“How many hats do you wear?” he asks, and I have to smile. When it comes to my clients, I’ll wear any hat I have to in order to earn them as much money and make them as successful as I can.
“I can’t give away all my secrets.” I remain my cool, calm, and collected self. “Today, my hat is that of an agent requesting a sit-down with the future NHL leading top scorer.” Matthew listens without interrupting me because his son is the reason I’m calling. “I know Cooper will be drafted this year. He’ll probably be number one if everything stays the same.”
“Fingers crossed,” Matthew says, and I can only imagine what he’s going through as a parent not wanting his son to be compared to him. If anyone compared me to my mother, I think I would want the earth to swallow me up whole. “So what can I do for you, Becca?”
“I’m calling to see if you had time to meet with me. I’ll be in New York at the end of next week,” I say, looking at my calendar. I’ll be in New York for four days.
“Should I be worried?” he asks, chuckling. “Every time you come to town, my salary cap goes up.”
It’s my turn to chuckle. “Come on, Matthew. We’ve known each other a long time. I’ve never been unfair to you.”
“We can agree to disagree on this one,” he says, and I can hear he’s walking.
“Fair enough,” I say, “but with that said, I’d love to sit down with Cooper and go over things to see if we are a good fit.” He isn’t going to get better than me. I also don’t give him a chance to answer me. “I know that you want the best for Cooper, and bottom line, you have to admit”—I tap my perfectly manicured nail on the desk—“I’m the best.”
I’m not going to beat around the bush anymore with him. I’m the best sports agent out there. Sure, people will try to argue how good I am, but I have the facts, and I have the numbers. I represent the top twenty leading players on the ice, not counting the other thirty scattered around. I’ve been hustling since day one to become the top female sports agent in the game, and now I’ll fight to stay there.
He finally gives in. “I’ll check our schedule and let you know when we’re free.” I’m about to push for something more definite when he adds, “I’ll talk to Cooper tonight and see when is good for him and send you something.”
“Sounds like a plan. I look forward to meeting with you two,” I say, and we both hang up. I smile, knowing that the first step is getting them to the table to discuss what I can do for them. One thing I know how to do is sell myself.
Pulling my schedule out, I add him to the top of the list with a star to remind myself to reach out and give him a nudge if I don’t hear back soon.
My phone pings, reminding me of our weekly meeting in the conference room in five minutes. I start to collect my papers and walk out of my corner office. “Erika,” I say to my assistant, “you can leave early. Both of us don’t have to suffer by staying.”
“I just forwarded you the two emails we got this morning,” she says. “I’ll have my phone with me all weekend if something comes up.” I nod, knowing she’ll be ready to go regardless of what time I call her. She also has no idea I’m grooming her to become an agent. I know she has what it takes, and if she plays her cards right, she’ll kill it.
Nothing screams good mood like Friday at four o’clock. “Have a nice weekend,” I tell everyone who looks up at me as I walk toward the conference room.
I pass the receptionist, Tammy, who looks over at me and smiles. “Do you need anything, Becca?” she asks, and a smile fills my face.
“I would kill for a latte from Starbucks,” I say, and she nods. I’m sure she has it ordered even before I walk into the conference room with the TRI Star Sports Agency logo decorating the wall.
Sitting in an empty seat, I’m about to page my two partners when they come walking into the room dressed almost identical. “Glad you two could join me,” I say with a smirk. Francis winks at me, and I groan.
“She’s your sister, asshole,” Trevor says, sitting in the chair in front of me.
“Stepsister,” Francis says, sitting down and grabbing a bottle of water from the middle of the table. “She’s our stepsister, which makes her—” I sit back and cross my arms over my chest, looking at them.
“Off-limits,” Trevor interrupts. “Bottom line, our father was married to her mother.”
If you had told me when I was younger that these two would end up not only my best friends but also my business partners, I would have bet money against it. They came into my life when I was ten, and they were thirteen and fourteen, respectively.
My mother divorced my father when he had an affair with my nanny and my after-school tutor. To this day, I don’t know if it was together or at different times. Don’t feel too badly for my mother, though, because it took her less than a month to wrangle Ernest up, and they married in grand socialite style. She was the talk of the town, which she loved more than anything. She was the one woman to finally get Ernest to settle down after he lost his wife to breast cancer. He was raising his boys with the help of a nanny, a chef, a chauffeur, tutors, and anyone else he needed to hire to keep from spending time with them.
The three of us formed a bond like no other when the brothers were stuck dragging this annoying ten-year-old girl around with them. Our parents wed, and then they disappeared for a good six months. We had each other, and for seven years, it was what we thought our family would be. Our Christmases was spent skiing in Switzerland while our summers were on a yacht somewhere in Europe.
Everyone was living their best life until Ernest woke up one night with chest pains, and two hours later, he was pronounced dead, leaving my mother the grieving widow.
We each mourned differently. Francis went headfirst into sports. He was expected to be drafted first in the MLB until he tore his tendon in his knee the last game of the year.
Trevor buried his head in school and graduated with a master's degree in communication. I graduated with honors and went on to graduate with a master's degree in marketing.
On the other hand, my mother grieved by marrying another man, and this one had three kids. Luckily, we were all old enough not to have to be in each other’s lives. It made it less messy when the divorce came. It’s because of my mother that I don’t think I will ever get married. I just don’t want a man to have that kind of control over me.