Even the Score(16)

By: Beth Ehemann


“But . . . I just . . . I wanted to impress you,” he stammered as he stepped into the elevator and spun around to face me.

“I know you did, but lying during an interview? Not impressive, Mr. Leonard.” I reached in and pressed the Lobby button since he was making no movement toward it. “Especially when you’re lying about representing athletes who are already represented by the person you’re interviewing with. Have a good day.” Before he could say another word, the elevator closed and he was gone.

I sighed and ran my hands through my hair, frustrated with the applicants that had come through my office already.

“That was a short interview.” Ellie’s eyes widened as she leaned forward with her elbows on her desk.

I turned toward her and looked from left to right, mouthing silently, “Is anyone else here?”

She shook her head.

I threw my hands up in the air and started pacing. “Oh my God, that guy was a moron! We sat down, and I asked him the basics . . . how long he’d been an agent, why was he interested in joining my firm, what athletes did he currently represent . . . and do you know that idiot actually listed Justin Sutter as one of the athletes he represents?”

Ellie’s mouth fell open and her blue eyes widened with shock. “No he did not!”

“He did! I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried, El.” I walked over to the waiting area and flopped onto the couch, feeling completely discouraged with how I had anticipated this day was going to go versus how it was going.

Justin Sutter was the hard-hitting, left-handed first baseman for the Chicago Cubs, and he was represented by me, not the dumbass who just lied and tried to claim him as his own.

“The bright side is now you have fifteen minutes free that you weren’t planning on. Why don’t you have a snack and take a break?”

“Yeah, maybe.” I sighed and looked at my watch. “How many more interviews?”

“Just one. Danicka Douglas.”

Well, if she turned out to be a dud like all the others, at least she’d be pleasant to look at for half an hour. “Okay, let me know when she’s here.” I pushed myself off the couch and sulked to my office.

Fifteen minutes passed.

Twenty minutes.

Twenty-five minutes.

I picked up the office phone and called Ellie. “No word from her yet?”

“Nope. She’s officially ten minutes late, and I haven’t heard a thing. Want me to call her?”

“No, that’s okay.” I hung up the phone and turned my attention toward my computer. She could’ve at least called instead of blowing me off. Totally unprofessional.

Ten minutes into a recruiting video of a prospective quarterback from Florida State, my office phone rang again. “Shaw,” I answered.

“Mr. Shaw, Ms. Douglas is here. Would you like me to send her in or reschedule?”

“Oh, uh . . .” I stammered, taken aback that she’d shown up after all. “Go ahead and send her in.”

I stood quickly and put my suit jacket back on, running a hand through my hair. After a few minutes with no knock at my office door, I walked over to see what the hell was going on. Danicka was on the phone in the waiting area with her back to me. Her foot tapped against the floor as she listened intently to whatever the person on the other end of the line was saying. I didn’t want to say anything and interrupt her, but I did let my eyes travel up and down the length of her body quickly.

“Right. Well, sit tight. All we can do for now is call your lawyer and see if we can block the dashboard cam from being released, at least for a little while.” She turned around and noticed me standing in the doorway. Covering the phone with one hand, she crinkled her eyebrows together and whispered, “I’ll be in in two seconds, I’m so sorry.”

I nodded and returned to my desk, leaving the door open for her.

“Ugh,” she sighed heavily as she breezed through my office doorway about three minutes later. “I’m so terribly sorry about that. One of my clients got a DWI overnight, and I’ve been dealing with it all day, unfortunately.”

Must be an agent thing to pretend you’re on the phone to cover your ass when you’re running late.

I stood as she walked over to the desk and held her hand out. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Shaw. I’m Danicka Douglas.”

“Nice to meet you, too, Ms. Douglas. Please, have a seat.” I motioned over to the couch and chair where I’d been sitting with the other agents all day. As professional as I tried to be at all times, I was still a warm-blooded male, and I couldn’t help but notice her legs as I followed her over to the couch. They were toned and tanned, and I knew I was going to have to force myself not to stare at them throughout the whole interview.