Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80153 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
That was another thing that had vanished. Deals my agent lined up for me went belly-up. I was radioactive, right along with Chuck and his money manager. “That’s all well and good, but Margulies promised that, too, and no one wanted to do business with me after working with him. You really think you can pull off sponsorship deals?”
Ford stops mid-swing then drops his club. “Yes. That is my job, and I take it seriously. And you aren’t with Margulies anymore. You’re with me.”
“I need you to be clear with me on what they want and don’t want. Margulies set me up with an energy drink company two years ago, and he said they didn’t care what I did. There were no clauses or whatnot. Then boom—a picture of Annika and me leaving a club shows up”—I mime slicing my throat—“and it wasn’t even the shot where she had the bottle of champagne in her hand.”
“Exactly,” Trevor adds, leaning on his club. “It was a guilt by association thing, and they dropped him, and that’s why we need you to be upfront about this. You need to set the expectations.”
“I will,” Ford says. “You have my word.”
“And I need to know everything,” Trevor says to Ford. “That’s why I’m here. That’s why I’m involved this time around. It’s my job to look out for my brother and make sure he doesn’t run into the same shady shit as before. I’m going to vet everything. Be his eyes and ears.”
Ford spreads his hands to show there’s nothing up his short sleeves, but his pale arms. “Whatever you need. I want this to be an open book. No back-room deals, no shenanigans, no secrets.” Ford looks to me. “You need me to go through Trevor, we’ll do that.”
I glance at my brother. He gives me a meaningful look that says I’ve got your back.
“Let me deliver this hole-in-two, and then you can tell me about these deals.” I tap the ball and bam—it rolls beautifully into the hole.
Lucky me.
After we finish up the round, we amble off the course, heading for our cars. Ford tugs off his golf glove at the edge of the parking lot. “Listen, I have a new company I’m talking to. A quick-serve food chain that makes all organic food. Tofu and kale and all that good-for-you green shit you probably love.”
I grin. “Of course I eat organic. How the hell do you think I’m as durable as I am? No corn chips or fried crap for me.” I flex a bicep.
“But beer counts?” Ford says with a wink.
I laugh. “Beer always counts. It’s like a tax exemption. Same for chocolate chip cookies.”
“Excellent. Glad to see you have your priorities straight. I’m all for making the most of those, too.” Ford tosses the glove into his bag. “In any case, this deal could be good for you. I’m going to keep talking and see what they’re looking for, but listen, it’ll help your cause if we don’t see any more shots of you and half-dressed women hanging out the sunroofs of limos.”
“I think half-dressed is an understatement.” I heave a sigh. “Also, that was a long time ago.”
Ford points at me. “And elephants have long memories. If you can keep that party-boy image of yours in the rearview mirror, we can get some sweet deals. Make you a golden boy. America’s sweetheart. Earn back some of the money that was stolen. Be patient, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of,” he says, clapping my back then shaking Trevor’s hand. “Now, I need to go and do my job, and I will keep you both apprised.”
Ford takes off, and as I slide into my sleek black Mercedes, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I grab it, and a very pretty face appears on the screen. Long, black hair, milk-chocolate eyes, pretty lips like a bow. I snapped the picture of Jillian at an event last year when she was standing at a table in the corner, nursing a club soda and looking pensive.
“Jones, did you just take a picture of me?” she’d said, when she noticed me holding up my phone.
“Yes, it’s a free country.”
“Let me see it.” She made grabby hands.
“See. You look all serious,” I’d said as I showed her.
“I look mad.” She parked a hand on her hip. “Take another where I look happy.”
I shook my head. “Nope. This angry face will make me answer the phone when you call because I’ll think you’re pissed at me.”
“And that entices you to pick up?”
“Hell, yeah. There’s nothing as motivating. Just ask my mom. Jones Edward Andrew Beckett, get inside.”
“Should I use your full name, then, any time you’re in trouble?”
“Please do,” I’d said, then I winked and walked away.
But I’d answer Jillian’s call no matter what picture I had for her contact. Trevor gets into the passenger seat as I bring the phone to my ear. “Good afternoon, Jillian, and yes, if you continue to insist over and over, I will take you out to dinner tonight at the fanciest restaurant in San Francisco. I already have the new Gabriel’s restaurant reserved.”