Page 36 of The Troublemaker
“A minute counts.”He stands.“We need to talk.”
I glance at my friends, who all shake their heads and shrug that they didn’t rat me out.Did I miss something in the media where someone snagged a picture?I feel as if I’ve been locked in my condo all week, and if I did go out, one of the girls pushed the stroller for me.We’ve been careful, but if Jagger already knows, then I did a shit-poor job of it.Or I underestimated how fast word travels.
“I’ve got practice.”I toss my bag in the locker, sliding by him.
“Lucky you that you have the best agent who swindled ten minutes to talk to you.”He pats me on the shoulder.“Take the hint, Ian.This is what good agents do.”
“Already looking for our replacements?”Foster grumbles.
“Hell yeah, I have kids to clothe and feed.I’m a family man.”He points at Foster.“Much like all of you now, so, I need some young blood.”Jagger stands in the middle of the locker room with his hands in his suit pockets.
“Yeah, Reap, don’t you know the Falcons’ knees are creaking?”Hayes laughs, putting on his shin guards.
“Please, I’ve got the Chipmunks.”Jagger raises his eyebrows and leans back on his heels.“So, Ian.”He takes out his card and hands it to him.“Call me if you want to be paid what you’re worth.”
“And me?”Drew asks.
“I don’t represent dickheads.”Jagger doesn’t offer him any more of his attention.
“You represent Foster,” Drew says.
“Shut the fuck up, Drew.But what will we call you if Ian leaves your sorry asses?The DICs will be over.”Hayes frowns, and we all share a smile.
The third outfielder in their little trio, Camden, is quiet in the corner as he always is.Drew is the one who gives them a bad reputation because he’s young, cocky, and can’t help but let his mouth get him in trouble.
Jagger lifts his wrist and looks at his watch.“Tick tock, I have money to make.Let’s go.Ripley gave us his office.”
I glance at my friends again.
Decker pats me on the shoulder.“Sorry you don’t at least get the breakfast with the talk.”
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Yeah, they make the perfect sausage,” Foster says.“Made the lecture more tolerable.”
Jagger shakes his head, looking offended, but I’ve heard about my teammates all being taken to breakfast when something was going on with their career and Jagger needed to put them on the straight and narrow.But he doesn’t have to worry about me.I’m in the best shape of my life, and I’ve never had a problem with my game.
“Yeah, the food makes it all more bearable,” Hayes agrees.
All three of them look at me.
“I’m not sure I know why you’re here?”I take my phone out of my pocket and walk toward Jagger.
“You’ll find out when we get in the office.”He looks around the room, where I’m sure everyone else is also wondering what my agent is doing here.Usually, that means bad news.
“You didn’t have to make a special visit for me.A phone call would’ve worked.”
Jagger laughs.“I’m here for the Falcons.”
We all groan because the players on Chicago’s professional hockey team are his favorites, and everyone knows it.Sure, they’re a dynasty—four years in a row winning the Cup—but with Tweetie’s retirement last season, it might be more challenging than they think to win this year.
I walk ahead of him.“When we win, you’re not on the bus.”
“I’ll buy my own bus with the money I’m making off you.”
There’s no shutting up for Jagger, which I respect.We’re one and the same, although he’s cockier than me, which is quite the feat.
We walk out of the locker room and down the hallway to Ripley’s office.
