Chapter 1
Thad
When your boss calls you and says, “Pack a bag and get to the office as soon as you can,” you hustle.
I have no idea where I’m going or what I’m doing, but it’s my first assignment that has included travel since I started my internship at King Sports.
Whenever I was asked as a kid what I wanted to be when I grew up, it was always the same answer: ballplayer. I was going to be the next big thing in baseball. A Hall of Famer. I had big dreams, worked hard for it, and I got really damn close.
I wish I could say it was an injury or something out of my control that ended that dream, but unfortunately, it took me way too long to realize that I just wasn’t good enough.
Ego, overinflated false sense of talent from my dad encouraging me and telling me I had what it takes, and all the money my parents sunk into private coaches who said the same thing set me up for failure.
This is why parents shouldn’t dote on their kids. How dare they, honestly. Because when it comes down to it, my fall from the mediocre middle felt like jumping out of an airplane at ten thousand feet with no parachute. Though my heart was the only victim as it splattered all over the pavement.
So, this is my backup plan.
My second choice.
Becoming a sports agent wasn’t where I thought I’d end up, but it’s the reality I’m having to face. I wish I could say I’ve handled it all with grace, but I know I haven’t.
I’m lucky to be where I am, and there are a lot of other people who would’ve killed for this internship, but I can’t help that my heart is still broken over the sport I’m absolutely obsessed with.
Baseball will always be my one true love, and I think that’s why I got this job in the first place. My boss, Damon King, was supposed to be the next big thing from the generation before me, but because of an injury, his dream also died at the collegiate level. Our stories were similar, and I know the manager in training on the West Coast also has a similar background. It’s as if Damon has a soft spot for us misplaced baseball players.
I’m eternally grateful for him giving me a chance, even if I don’t always show it. I’m trying to do better, but it’s really difficult not to be bitter.
At least this way, I still get to be in the industry. I’m baseball … adjacent. That’s what I keep trying to tell myself.
When I get into the office, I head straight for Damon’s office to see what my assignment is. Accompanying another agent on a scouting trip? Signing new talent?
I stop short in my tracks when I cross the threshold and see the last person in the world I’d want to see.
I’ve only met him in passing a handful of times, but I resent him. I know I shouldn’t, but it’s one of those things. He has a professional career, the talent, a multimillion-dollar MLB contract as a pitcher for Philly, and he takes it all for granted.
He’s too focused on whether or not the public loves him to appreciate what he has, which is everything I’ve ever wanted.
Kelley Afton doesn’t know how lucky he is. And to top it all off, he’s probably the sexiest man I’ve ever laid eyes on. Because of course, the huge queer MLB star has to be drop-dead gorgeous. Couldn’t make the super-talented baseball player have a huge nose or big ears or something to make his face not so perfectly symmetrical with flawless skin.
His complexion and closely cropped dark hair suggests a Hispanic background somewhere in his heritage, or maybe he’s the type of person who can get a tan and keep hold of it. During the summer, I usually have nicely tanned skin, but only because I’m outside a lot. During winter, I’m as white as a piece of paper.
One thing I’ve noticed about his light brown eyes, though, is they always look worried. It’s probably the stress of caring what other people think of him that’s aged the top half of his face, and I should feel sorry for him, but I don’t because the crow’s feet make him look distinguished and sexy. He looks older than the twenty-six years that he is, but what would be a flaw on anyone else looks good on him.
How is life fair?
“Thad. You’re here already,” Damon says, looking surprised.
“You said to get down here as soon as I could.”
Kelley still hasn’t made eye contact with me.
“You’ve met Kelley Afton before, haven’t you?” Damon asks.
I grit my teeth as I force a smile. “In passing.”
Behind me, a fellow intern comes barreling into the room.
“I’m here, I’m here. What was so urgent?” Brady Talon spots Kelley on the couch along the side wall of Damon’s office. “Oh, hey, Kelley, what’s up?”
Kelley stands and greets Brady with a one-armed bro-hug.
“What took you so long to get here?” Damon mocks.
“You called half an hour ago.”
“And your world does not revolve around my every command? It’s official, you’re my least favorite nibling.”
“Pfft. Like you’d ever choose Freddie over me. He’s a walking, talking emo boy who hates everything, especially sports.”
“Fine. Second least favorite.”
Brady grins. “That’s better.”
I’ve noticed they have a work relationship full of banter, and Brady is definitely the boss’s favorite intern, but that makes sense with Damon being Brady’s honorary uncle. It’s how Brady already knows Kelley. He got to shadow Damon on a recent photoshoot for Kelley’s coming out.
I wouldn’t dare speak to my boss the way Brady does sometimes, but Damon is extremely professional when it comes to his employees; Brady is the exception to that.
Brady greets me with a cold up-nod, and I get the impression Brady hates me because of my bitterness toward … well, everything. I thought out of everyone, he would understand. His fathers are the great Marcus Talon and Shane Miller, first same-sex couple to play on an NFL team and go on to win Super Bowls together. Brady’s older brother, Peyton Miller, is currently kicking ass in his rookie years in the NFL, and then there’s Brady. Not a football player but an agent.
The thing with him is, though, he chose to give up football. He wants to be here, and it’s no company secret that when Damon King retires, Brady Talon will take his place.
If the man ever retires. I can see it now—he’s going to be one of those people who work until they’re in their eighties, finally retire, and then drop dead because their purpose in life is no longer there to throw themselves into.
“Kelley needs some help,” Damon says. “As you’re both aware, when Kelley came out, there was some backlash.”
“No more than usual.” What can I say, the industry hasn’t changed much over the years. Coming out is still scandalous, and there are still those homophobic dickweeds who say sports are for real men and blah, blah, blah.
“But considering Kelley was hesitating to come out to begin with, it’s hit him hard,” Damon says.
“I love how you talk about me like I’m not here.” Kelley’s wearing a charming smile, and I swear I see his teeth shine off the light and make a bling noise like a damn cartoon character. Or maybe the lighting in here is making the diamond stud in his ear blinding.
“By all means, if you want to fill them in.” Damon leans back in his chair.
Yet, when Kelley talks again, he still doesn’t look at me. His only focus is on Brady.
“You were right. When you told me things would be shit for a while after coming out, I was worried about it but prepared. Or, I thought I was prepared. I’ve been getting messages. Mostly supportive and amazing, but then there’s the ones that start off great and say they’re supportive of me and then follow it up with ‘even if you’re going to hell.’”
Here’s a novel idea. Don’t go on social media. What? That’s a thing?
“Then there are the ones that straight up say I should unalive myself.”
Okay, that’s not cool. At all. And even if I’m resentful of what Kelley has, no one deserves that.
“I’m trying to stay away from it all. I’ve deleted apps from my phone, I’ve put one of those child lock things on certain sites, but I can’t stay away from it. It’s as if a few hours go by, and my brain says, ‘Maybe they’re saying different things now.’ So then I look and get anxious and depressed all over again.”
“That’s where you two come in,” Damon says.
“Us?” I ask.
“At the photoshoot, Brady said I should become a hermit for a while. Go somewhere no one can find me, and that’s what I want to do,” Kelley says.
“I’m still missing the point.” Am I being daft here?
“Kelley’s going to take off to the Catskills for a while, and I want you two to go with him,” Damon says. “To make sure that he actually stays away from the toxicity of the internet and gets the rest that he needs.”
“How long for?” Brady asks, a whole lot more excited about it than I am.
“Two weeks at least. Then we’ll reassess.”
I thought I would be getting to do actual agent work when he called for me to come in immediately. Something that might advance my career.
Instead, I get to babysit a diva baseball player who doesn’t know how good he has it. If I didn’t hate him already, this would’ve sealed it.
Kelley Afton is the most ungrateful, oblivious son of a bitch on the planet, and if we even survive the next two weeks together, it’ll be a miracle.
Let’s hope I can keep my shit together because otherwise, I’ll need a backup plan for my backup plan.
