Blitz (Emerald City/Black Family Saga Book 1) (2 page)

I take a sip of water before continuing. “This is a big year for you. In less than a month, you’ll be the talk of the town. Not that you aren’t already. Am I right?”

He smirks and I take that as my cue.
 

Jump in Sydney. Make the pitch. Strike while you can.
 

“Gosh, I know it must be incredibly overwhelming to be here in Seattle, at a time like this. You’ve got all of Washington practically writing your name in gold on a Seahawks jersey. The rest of the country sniffing around, the Cowboys, Packers, Ravens, Patriots, Broncos, Steelers. I could go on and on, but you get it. Everyone wants your honor—they’d sell their souls to get it. But that’s neither here nor there is it? You end up with who you end up with. When it comes to your team, you don’t really have a choice. But when it comes to your agent…”
 

I pause, gauging the room for a moment. They’re all still paying close attention, which is better than I expected at this point. “Reese has been working with these guys for years. She knows the ins and outs. She’s respected in this town. People trust her instincts. Sometimes too little too late. But she’s never wrong. She can predict the outcome of any draft, any trade. She can make your life better than you’ve ever imagined. Things are exciting for you right now. You’re one of a kind, Ray Carlson. Top athlete, top scholar, all around good guy. You deserve the best. Just in case you were wondering, the best is Reese Clarke. Ask anyone. She’ll do anything to make your dreams come true. Just say the word.”

There is a grin plastered on his face now and my heart is racing so hard I can feel it my head. I’ve said my piece. Now it’s his turn. But as I glance across the table again, my confidence crumbles. Carlson Senior looks thoughtful at least, like he is considering my offer. Like he’s nibbling on the bait, but can’t quite bring himself to take a mouthful. But Mrs. Carlson looks like she’s ready to swallow me. Chew me up, spit me out, then swallow me all over again.

“S—so what do you say?” I squeak, turning my focus back to Ray.
 

“I’d say that’s a pretty good pitch. Wouldn’t you?” He looks around the table, seeking the same approval I had seconds before. He doesn’t get it either.
 

Mr. Carlson nods but after a glare from his wife, shakes his head slightly, then gives the plate of eggs benedict and prime steak his full attention.
 

“No, honey.” Her voice is cold as she regards me with a hateful stare. “I’d say this woman is either stupid or she is fraud.”

“Excuse me?” My confidence has completely dissipated now and I reach for my water again, knocking it onto the table. “Oh, shit.” I clap my hands over my mouth. “I mean…Oh, god. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ray gets up and waves a waiter over.
 

I eye the exit, praying for some kind of human vacuum. I’ve completely fucked this up. My one chance and it’s over, just like that.
 

“It’s alright,” Ray reassures me, taking the napkin from my hands and placing it over the pool of water. “Why don’t you have a seat over there.” He gestures toward the chair beside his.

I reluctantly agree, well aware of Mrs. Carlson’s glower.
 

“I’m very sorry,” I say. “It’s been a long day so far,” I add with a chuckle.

“Let me make something clear—”

“Mom, please.” Ray interrupts her but she puts up a hand to silence him.
 

“I’ve been warned about you. And I am very much aware of Miss Clarke’s condition. Just as I am very much aware you are in no position to be making offers. You do not work for Baldwin & Mahr, you work for Miss Clarke. And seeing as she is two steps away from the morgue, I don’t see how she’ll be able to offer my boy anything but empty promises.”

It feels like someone is crushing my windpipe. Like I am lying on the floor and the heel of a heavy boot is pressing hard into my neck. I cannot find breath. My head is growing dizzier by the second. I may not be able to find breath, but I have located a few choice words in the recesses of my brain. I just wish I could bring them to the surface.
 

“That’s enough, Sheila.” Mr. Carlson finally finds his voice. “That’s no way to speak to anyone.”

“I’m sorry, but what makes her different than all the rest? Her cute smile? She’s trying to take advantage of him. Ray has worked very hard for this. I will not let some two-bit actress waltz in here and act like she has a say in his career. She’s his biggest supporter? Reese Clarke? No, sweetheart.” She turns back to me. “We are this boy’s biggest supporter. His family. And as far as I’m concerned, you have no place here. Thank you for this fine meal, but I think you should leave.”

“Actually, I think she should stay.” Ray's voice startles me out of my stupor.
 

I have been zeroed in on Mrs. Carlson for the past several seconds. Contemplating how to make her hurt the way I am right now. I have been watching her full, ruby-colored lips hurl insults my way, her matching lacquered nails drum away on the table top, her perfect little nose, flare like a bull. She looks everything the part of the gentle pastor’s wife, but she is anything but.

“I’m sorry,” he continues. “But who I sign with, who I choose to represent my interests, is my business. My decision. Like every other meeting you’ve dragged me out to this week, this one will be completed. Miss Bucco has my permission to finish her pitch. And we will listen. All of us.”

Mrs. Carlson’s eyes bulge and her jaw twitches, but all Ray does is cross his arms over his inflated chest and turn a sympathetic gaze back on me.
 

“Are you alright?” he asks in a low murmur. “You’re about the color of a beet.”

I clear my throat and push back from the table. Then I smooth my skirt, turn on my too-tall heel and march toward the door.
 

Ronnie places a glass on the counter in front of me. It’s filled a quarter way with the soothing amber fluid I’ve been craving since the minute I stepped out of that meeting.
 

I stare at it, then back at her, an eyebrow raised.
 

She laughs, unscrews the top the tops it off. Her eyes expectantly flick back up to me several times before she finally gives her head a shake and stops pouring.
 

“I’m not getting you drunk, Syd. That’s no way to deal with disappointment. Besides this isn’t even my liquor.”

“I don’t think the great Justice will miss one bottle.” I bring the glass to my lips and take a nice healthy gulp.
 

“Not the point.”

“I know.” I wrinkle my nose and nod toward the fridge. “It’s just your little wine coolers won’t do anything for the stink I feel right now. I totally fucked that pitch up. It was my last chance and that woman saw right through me. There’s not a damn thing I can do now but lick my wounds and plan my funeral.”

Ronnie pulls her pouf of curls into a bun at the top of her head and slinks into the stool across from me. She pours herself a small glass of Marker’s 46 and props her elbows on the table, swishing it around as she watches me.
 

“You should have seen the way that woman looked at me. She was…it was brutal. I mean Ray seems nice. He is nice. A perfect gentleman and all that. I had him too. I could tell he was loyal to Reese but his mother—”

“Aunt.”

“What?”

“She’s his aunt. It’s a long story.”

“Oh…kay.” I flatten my palm against my forehead. “Oh my god. I’m such an idiot. Wait, but he called her Mom. How did I not know this? Reese never said—but then I never asked. No wonder she hated me so much. I am a fraud. She’s his aunt?”

Ronnie licks her plump lips and nods. “She adopted him when he was just a baby. Like two or three or something.”

“Oh, my god.” I close my eyes wishing I could turn back time a few hours. And do some fucking research.
 

The only the thing I looked at was his professional file. All the games he played, points he scored. I didn’t think his personal life even mattered at this point.
 

“It’s okay,” she smiles. “Honest mistake. A lot of people make it. Especially because he looks so much like her. But Reese doesn’t expect this, you know? She doesn’t need you to swoop in and make things right.”

I rub my eyes. “I know, Ron but—”

“But nothing. She doesn’t assume other people will clean up her messes. Especially you, Syd. She loves you like a sister. Do you really think she’ll be upset with you if you don’t save the day? Besides, she’s Reese Clarke. She’s going to wake up, like, tomorrow and railroad all these idiots who are trying to take her down. Because she’s that fierce and that respected. Do you really thing she’s going to let Baldwin & Mahr ruin her career? She’s been in this business since she was your age. One little accident isn’t going to destroy Reese Clarke.”

“Little?” My voice cracks and I clear my throat. “She’s got three broken ribs and she’s been in a comma for a month. What if she doesn’t—” I suck in a breath and grip my glass between both hands. “It’s been a whole month.” I blink and pull in a deep breath through my nose. “I thought she’d wake up by now.”

Ronnie reaches across the counter and takes one of my hands. “I miss her too. And there are days when I’m scared as hell my best friend won’t come back to me. Then I remember how well I know her and how much of a fighter she is. And how nothing gets in her way. Ever. Not even getting run over by a goddamn car. Reese is going to be okay. You’re a lot like her that way.”

I suck on my bottom lip, the bittersweet bourbon residue reminding me of why I’m even here in here in the first place.
 

I sigh and stare back into Ronnie’s deep brown eyes. “I’m nothing like her. I’m a failure at pretty much everything I do. I tried to become a police officer and they rejected me. My ex-boyfriend cheated on me and even though that was like two years ago, I’ve never really gotten over it. He was the only person I had after…everything. Coming here to Seattle was supposed to be a fresh start. I thought I could make it as a private investigator but I’ve had, like, hardly any clients. If it wasn’t for Reese I’d probably be homeless. I’m doing this for her, but I’m also doing it for me. If Reese goes down, I go down with her. But what’s worse is if Reese goes down it’ll be my fault because I couldn’t even manage to hold things together for a few weeks. The one person who she was confident was a sure thing is ready to run in the other direction. Like I said, everything I touch turns to shit.”

“You’re not a failure, Syd. You moved all the way across the country on your own. And who gives a flying-fuck if the police force rejected you? You applied. You prepared yourself for one of the toughest tests out there—that’s a test in itself. You never wanted to be a police officer anyway. You want to be a P.I. and you are. How is that failing? You were born to be a private investigator just like Reese was born to be the world’s best sports agent, like I was created exclusively for the pleasure of throwing the best parties in Seattle.” She takes a small sip of her drink as I swill down another mouthful.

She’s right. Trying to become a police officer was something I did to honor my dad. And as a stepping-stone to my biggest dream. Even though my client roster is nanoscale in comparison to Reese’s, I’m still helping people—and getting paid for it. I’m not a complete failure.
 

Unless you count saving my cousin’s career.

“Look,” Ronnie continues. “Why don’t you come to the party tonight?”

“Justice’s party?”

“Sure. I can get you in. Joe always tells me I can invite as many friends as want. Of course the only person I’d take to one of these things is Reese. Although she’d already be invited, no doubt.”

I laugh. “You want me to show up to some rapper’s exclusive party. Models, athletes, pretty much every celebratory figure within throwing distance? Not exactly my style, Ron. I think I’ll just sit at home and drink dirty beer. It’s all I can afford these days anyhow.”

Ronnie rolls her eyes. “It’s just Joe. I’ve known him since we were ten. Trust me, underneath all the tattoos and the trash he calls his girlfriend, he’s just a guy. A really good guy. And his parties are usually fun. You want a chance to fix things with StingRay, don’t you?”

“He’s going to be there?”

“Probably. He’s on the guest list. Like you said, every celebrity in Washington and beyond is invited. He may not have been signed with a team let alone an agent, but Ray Carlson is most definitely a star. Everyone wants a piece of him. Including Joe. He’s talking about trying to get him in one of his next videos. Probably going to try to tempt him with expensive drinks and a few models.”

I laugh. “Does he even know Ray Carlson? I’m not exactly sure that’ll fly.”

“Exactly. You’ve got the inside scoop. You know just how sweet and wholesome he is. So while all the vultures are trying to get him drunk and the pretty girls are trying to get in his pants, you can take his mind to a more comfortable place. Talk sports or whatever. Win him over on your turf.”

I chew on my thumbnail. The Rainier isn’t exactly my turf. It’s not even close. I could barely find something to wear to a pitch. Now I’m expected to show up at a rapper’s birthday party? With just hours notice? I can’t slum it. Ronnie wouldn’t let me. And I don’t have any money. Just my rent and I may be desperate but I’m not stupid.

“We’ll stop at Reese’s. You can grab something cute from her closet. I’ll help you with hair and makeup. You’ll fit right in. Don’t worry.” She drops her barely touched drink in front of her and jumps to her feet, grabbing her bag from the table by the door. “Come on. We’ve only got a few hours and I know how picky you can be.”

Even though I want to say no. Just throw in the towel and call it what it is, I find myself too curious to form the words. Maybe going to an uber exclusive party is exactly what I need. The chances of signing StingRay Carlson may still be slim to none but at least I’ll have a little bit of fun trying.

I lean my head back against the rest and stare through the sunroof up at the stars. I’m not in the partying mood—especially one of these things. I hate these things. They’re full of showy, extra-special people who expect the world to love them. And within the last few months I’ve realized I’m expected to become one of those people.