"Now, don't look like that, Fenton," Kev said. "We need her. Now that you've gone full diva on me and rented a private gym, it might be time for you to consider Ms. Allen's deal a little more seriously."
Fenton released the redhead though she clung to his arm. "Ms. Allen has never managed to fully articulate her pitch."
"We can go over the contract any time you like," I said. "You know where my suite is when you're ready."
"I'm ready," Kev said. "How about we head up to her suite and make it a private party?"
The redhead nodded and tried to slip under Fenton's arm again. He unpeeled her and crossed his arms over his chest. "We don't need her or her fancy suite."
"Then, how exactly do you plan to pay for that private gym?" Kev asked.
"It just so happens I met two other endorsement agents today. I thought you might like them, too," Fenton said. He waved to a tall, striking woman with straight brown hair and her curly haired, curvy friend.
"Bethany Smith and Alice Meadows," I said.
"Oh, you know them?" Fenton asked. His smile was wicked as beckoned the two women over.
"They work exclusively for a big time shoe company. Shoes that you don't or would ever wear. They're for basketball," I said.
"What's wrong with that? If they're willing to pay me, I can wear them outside of the ring," Fenton said.
I swiped my hair back. "I warned you about the bigger brand names. They have tricky contracts that can drop you for any little thing. Like getting kicked out of your hotel suite," I said.
"Well, let's just say I like their approach better so far," Fenton said. "No mix-ups or mixed messages."
"Is that what you think?"
Fenton gave me a deeper look, but the two women joined us and pulled his attention away. "We heard you like tequila, Mr. Morris, so we took the liberty of ordering a bottle. The good stuff, no need for body shots unless that's what you're in the mood for," Bethany said.
"Hello, Kya. I almost didn't recognize you out of linen button-ups and off the tennis court. Must feel kind of strange," Alice said.
"What's strange is a company that makes basketball shoes looking for a MMA fighter to endorse their product," I countered.
"We make shoes for everyone. Everyone needs shoes," Bethany said. "Not everyone needs vitamin supplements, do they Mr. Morris? Do you take vitamins?" She squeezed his bicep and batted her eyelashes.
"Speaking of shoes," Alice continued. "Our company made a pair especially for you. Completely original, custom designed. Come try them on."
They led Fenton to a V.I.P. booth. Waiters cleared away the small table so they could make a big scene of revealing his custom shoes. Alice knelt to help slip them on, her generous cleavage attracting more attention. Bethany poured him a glass of tequila and held it to his lips.
I waited until he stood up and roped his arms over the two women. They started off on a lap around the bar to try out his new shoes. I deliberately crossed their path and pretended not to realize I was in the way. When Fenton cleared his throat I made sure to hold eye contact as long as I could.
"Not really your style," I said.
He glanced down at the shoes and then back up at me. "Who cares?" Both he and my rival agents laughed.
Fenton finally broke away from the other agents and mingled with fans. I endured the awkward attentions of a young Mixed Martial Arts fan as he waited for an autograph.
"I love how he just does what he wants. That's like me, you know?" the ruddy young man said.
"I
can imagine," I said.
He launched into a story about standing up to his manager at the restaurant where he worked. I nodded and kept him jostling closer to Fenton. When it was almost my young hopeful's turn, a rotund man jumped in front of him. We were both surprised by the man's grace.
"Ling Pho Lounge, tonight," he said to Fenton.
Fenton nodded. He signed my young friend's cocktail napkin and turned away without even looking at me. I had to recapture Fenton's attention. He circled back through the bar and settled into the booth with Bethany and Alice again.