“No, it’s true,” I say. “People have hidden agendas. They lie and they bore me.”
“All of them?”
“No, just most of them, but I don’t care enough to find the exceptions. I’m definitely not taking the time right now to find one I could tolerate forever.”
“You said two reasons,” August reminds me. “What’s the other one?”
“Oh, simple.” I waggle my brows suggestively. “I like pussy in assorted flavors.”
August’s laugh booms across the placid backyard. I’ve loved making him laugh since we were kids, stepbrothers who had no clue about the other but pretty sure almost from day one that we could be best friends.
And even though I’m a few years older, we always have been.
“So is Iris okay with the new set up?” I ask, directing us back to the previous topic of discussion.
“She’s fine.” August shrugs broad bare shoulders. “Probably wondering if all the best action is happening there in LA while she’s in the San Diego office.”
August pauses, shooting me a searching glance before going on.
“Once the season is over, I might lease something in LA so she could work out of that office this summer. I’m sure we can find a good preschool for Sarai. I want Iris to have that experience. That okay with you?”
“Sure. You are a partner, albeit silent. Elevation is just as much yours as it is mine, Gus.”
“Just making sure.” August stands, hauling Sarai out of the water. “Come on, princess.”
She giggles when he tickles her while toweling her off. She is precious. I wouldn’t mind having a beautiful little girl, if she didn’t come permanently attached to a woman.
“One day I’ll get to focus more on it,” August says, bundling Sarai against his chest. “For now, ball is life.”
“Which is exactly what it needs to be,” I remind him. “Our strategy is working. Athletes see one of the NBA’s brightest rising stars signed with Elevation, they feel confident we’ll take care of them, too.”
“You were right to relocate headquarters to LA.”
“It’s the smart move considering how many of our clients want to transition into acting, producing, entertainment in general. Getting to know the wizards behind the curtain can only help.”
“Yeah, especially with Cal Bagley setting up shop in LA,” August says, kissing Sarai’s hair. “And he sent his big guns out to run the office, right? Didn’t Banner Morales leave New York to come out here?”
“Yeah.” I lock my teeth around the reply. “Banner’s running their LA office.”
I’ve never talked to August about Banner and what happened senior year. Even after ten years, something still pinches in my chest when I hear her name. Not my heart. I traded that useless organ in long ago to get where I am now. It’s in the vicinity, though, of where my heart used to be. And that pisses me off.
She pisses me off.
At least it’s mutual. It’s a small industry, sports management, when you get down to it. Sure there’s lots of professional athletes, but they comprise such a small percentage of the general population. The number of agents who make it to the level I have, owning an agency and representing the caliber of talent we do, is fractional. Even with sports management, specifically the NBA, being such a small world, I don’t see Banner often.
Early on, our paths crossed infrequently. She was at Bagley & Associates in New York and I was at Richter Sports in Chicago. I saw her for the first time at a convention in Philly. When we spotted each other, she turned and walked the other way. I followed. I may have cornered her and tried to talk about that night again.
Okay. I did corner her and try to talk about that night again.
She threatened to blow her rape whistle if I didn’t leave her alone. Seeing how she called the cops on me before, I didn’t want to chance it. After a few more thwarted attempts, I gave up. She made it abundantly clear she wanted to put that night and me behind her. As badly as I wanted another night, and another one and another one, that wasn’t meant to be.
What did it matter anyway? Banner was a soft spot, and the further up the ladder I climbed, the less I could afford those. Especially when we were pursuing the same clients. It’s a dog-eat-dog and spit him—or her—out game.
Survival of the fittest.
Banner can be the killer with the heart.
I’m just the killer. It has served me well.