Page 114 of Off the Mark
“Dempsey McKenna, it’s nice to meet in person,” he said, then turned to shake my hand. I’d never been fired from a contract before so didn’t know whether to smile placidly or give him the finger.
I managed a grimace he didn’t seem to notice.
“Charlie, it’s nice to meet you too, albeit under these somber circumstances. I’m Marcus Preston.”
He took a seat, and Dempsey cleared her throat. “We received the documents late last night, and I’m assuming you’re here to confirm that Charlie’s three-year contract with Bettencourt Industries is being terminated early?”
I took a steady, calming inhale and pictured Rowan walking toward me in his suit last night—sunflowers in hand, a shy smile on his face.
Marcus pressed his lips into a thin line. “I’m afraid so. The termination should be all above board, per the documents from our lawyers. We’re sorry it didn’t work out, but we’re sure you have a long career ahead of you. Oh, and congratulations on the award you won last night. That must have felt pretty special.”
I sat forward in my seat. “Can you clarify why you’re terminating our contract? So we’re clear? You’re right—I did win an award last night. Took second place a few days ago and am favored to win the championship. What’s the problem?”
“It’s somewhat…delicate.”
“Good thing my client and I are not,” Dempsey replied.
Annoyance flickered across his face. “Your continued absence at our events is, frankly, reason alone. As is your rather poor performance recently. Some…issues with your personal life haven’t been up to par, though as we expressed to your agent, romantic relationships play well in the realm of public opinion. We were pleased to see it.”
I shifted, uncomfortable. I’d been so desperate to find a solution to help my dad I hadn’t stopped to consider what it would feel like, being sponsored by a place that valued memorefor having a boyfriend andlesswhen I didn’t.
“But, popular or not, the situation with James Clark was the last straw. It’s not the first member of the media you’ve had run-ins with, and he’s always been a supporter of Bettencourt athletes. He was very embarrassed and continues to be because ofyou.”
“He’s a well-known sexist who takes pleasure in embarrassing women in public,” I shot back before I could stop myself. “This isn’t the first time he’s done it either. Why should I let him belittle me? All it does is let him keep being the worst in the name of…ofpoliteness.”
Marcus sent me a look of sympathy that barely reached his eyes. “You’re entitled to your opinion on that, Charlie. Certainly, you are.”
Dempsey’s annoyance was as tangible as mine was.
“We as a company can’t have our name associated with athletes who are sooutspoken. When it comes to sponsors, Bettencourt is elite in every way, and many of our sponsors have gone on to compete in the summer and winter Olympics, multiple times. With as much money as we put towards their careers, we expect our athletes to be”—he frowned—“palatable to the general public. Women with agreeable reputations make money. Others do not.”
My cheeks flushed hot with anger. “Palatable?This is women’s dirt bike racing. The whole point is to take up space in a world that prefers us small and silent. If you want some perfect, polite princess why the hell did you choose me? And why did you choose motocross?”
Marcus stood and re-buttoned his suit jacket. “I’ll be blunt. You were a risk for us from the beginning. And a mistake. You have a bright career ahead of you but, just between us, getting into dirt bike sports was an experiment. However, I don’t believe we’ll be continuing in the motocross space. Bit of a compatibility issue. Best of luck to you though.”
Dempsey and I watched him walk away in a kind of furious shock.
I turned to my agent, who looked absolutely murderous. “I’m not sure the, uh,motocross spacewill miss them.”
“I’m not saying this as your agent,” she began, “but as a queer dirt bike racer who’s loud as hell…fuck ’em if they want palatable.”
“Cheers to that,” I said dryly. “Except here I am, once againlosing youmoney. Based onthatinteraction, I’m glad I’m out. But if you think we should fight to get them to keep me…”
“I don’t think that,” she said firmly. “Yes, this makes my job—and your life—a little more complicated. But I’ve been sitting with this for weeks now, trying to convince myself it was okay for the contract. It’s not okay, thatguy’snot okay, and demanding you stay quiet and amenable is the sort of bullshit we keep having to put up with.”
Her brow arched. “And they would never say it explicitly, but what do you guess the odds are that Bettencourt wouldn’t support Riley and Quinn as a couple?”
“Very, very high,” I admitted. “Would probably cover up their homophobia by claiming they don’t want their athletes toget political.”
I raised my latte and tapped it against Dempsey’s cup. “To reiterate, fuck it and fuck them.” Panic burst through my righteous anger. “Oh my god. I do need money.Shit, I need so much money.”
I sagged forward and dropped my head back in my hands. Dempsey patted my hair—awkwardly, like I was her dog—but I still appreciated it.
“I can call the owner of Archer’s Angels, you know.”
I glanced up, surprised. She shot me a bemused look. “I have spies everywhere, duh. I know they approached you about joining, and they’d be stupid to pass up the opportunity to snatch you while you’re suddenly a very free agent. Unless you want to go back to privateering?”
“Privateering suddenly sounds very stressful and very—” I hesitated. “Lonely.”
