Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 79898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79898 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
“Of course,” I said, well aware that I sounded like the biggest kiss-ass in the universe. It was part of my job, after all. “As soon as I heard that Andy had been injured, I went straight to the airport.”
Andy Chafee, a lanky kid who was a bang-up punt returner despite still having some filling out to do, was sitting on the couch with a morose expression on his face.
“I ruined everythin’,” he said in a deep Texas twang. “I just can’t believe it.”
“You’ll be fine,” I said smoothly as I set my tea down on the glass-topped coffee table. “You’ll be back on your feet in no time. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse – a break could have really screwed you here.”
Andy puffed out his chest.
“The coach wants him in therapy for six weeks, but I’m just worried about the cost,” Saralynne said, glancing over at her boy and frowning.
“Don’t worry about that,” I said. “I’ll take care of everything.”
Saralynne Chafee blinked at me. “I can’t let you do that,” she said, shaking her head.
“Please,” I said. “It’s my job – and my responsibility – to take care of Andy here. We want him to make it to the pros, don’t we?”
Saralynne flushed, and I realized that she’d been expecting my offer all along.
Still, it wasn’t like I minded. Other agents couldn’t be bothered to fly halfway across the country just because their prize pig got a sprained ankle – that was one of the reasons why Ulrich Sports had done as well as it had. I’d made my clients a priority since day one, even if that meant sacrificing my own plans.
Which, in all fairness, had never been terribly important before now. Now, my mind was far away from College Station. It was all the way back in New York City, with Harper and Ada, and I couldn’t wait until I was on a return flight.
“Andy,” I said, clearing my throat in an attempt to focus on the task at hand. “You feel like going for a ride with me?”
“He should be resting,” Saralynne said. “He shouldn’t be up and moving around, right?”
“I think getting out of the house for a bit would be tremendously good for his spirits,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “I hear there’s a place with killer onion rings around here.”
Andy nodded and I smirked. It had just been a lucky guess – nearly every town in Texas was stuffed to the gills with fast food – but it looked like I’d hit the bullseye
“Oh, yeah, Fletcher’s,” Andy said. With no trace of a limp whatsoever, he sprang to his feet and walked over to the door. “Be home later, Ma,” he called over his shoulder.
I stood up and nodded respectfully at Saralynne. “Mrs. Chafee, don’t worry. I’ll make sure Andy doesn’t get into any trouble.”
She pressed her lips together, then smiled like a girl.
“I know I worry too much,” she said in a hushed tone that was clearly meant just for me. “But he’s my only boy who’s still at home. All of my other children, well, they’ve got babies of their own. I just don’t want to see him hurt.”
I smiled and patted her on the shoulder.
“Mark my words,” I said. “Next September, you’ll be sitting in this very living room, watching Andy play on the TV. And we’ll make sure to get you a big new flat screen, so you’re sure to see his every move.”
Once my clients made it to the pros, I always sent their family a huge new television – it was a signature gift from Ulrich Sports – but Saralynne seemed truly delighted. She blushed and clapped her hands together.
“Why, I’m just so thankful that you’re here,” she said. “You sure do make all the difference!”
Twenty minutes later, Andy Chafee and I were sitting in a vinyl booth at Fletchers, with two baskets of onion rings in front of us. The air was hot and stagnant and smelled like grease, but Andy seemed happier than a pig in shit as he dug into his food.
“So, you think you’ll be okay after therapy? It shouldn’t be much for a sprain,” I said.
Andy nodded. He looked up at me and pressed his lips together, then narrowed his eyes like he was trying to gauge my reaction.
“What is it?” I asked, resisting the urge to add son after my question. Back when I’d first started out as an agent, I’d been nearly the same age as my clients. But now, I really felt the generational divide. Kids like Andy were nearly half my age, and I was more than a little afraid of coming off as an old man.
“Well ... it’s my girlfriend, sir,” Andy said. A flush spread up his neck and over my cheeks. “She got real sad when I got hurt, see, and she don’t want me to play anymore.”