“And you’re telling me this because?”
“You make everything so difficult.” He compliments me without realizing it. “He’s been trying to make it out here for the last couple of weeks and now that he’s here, he wants to talk with you before the launch. I was wondering if you could go to the game with him? He’ll pick you up so you can talk on the way. I share a box with Justin Lamar’s wife, but she’s cool and you guys will be able to have some privacy if you need it.”
Here’s the thing, even though I would like to make Quinton squirm and worry that I won’t get on board, he’s offering me box tickets! I would’ve said yes to driving myself and sitting in the nosebleed section. But no hassle and a box? With Lavonne freaking Lamar?! Hell. Fucking. Yes!
I don’t say that to him, though. He can never know that he’s unintentionally fulfilling one of my bucket list items.
“I mean, it’s kind of last minute, but I think that should be fine.” The cobwebs of sleep still in my voice hide the excitement.
Totally the epitome of cool. Crushed it.
“Alright, yeah. Okay. This will be fine. Yeah. It will be good.”
Now, I’m fully aware that I’m not an expert when it comes to Quinton Howard Junior, but the nerves and uncertainty as he speaks are so unlike the smug jerk I’m used to being around, that even I know something is up.
“What’s wrong with you?” I scoot up in my bed. There’s not a chance in hell I’ll be able to go back to sleep. “Why do you sound so weird?”
“Nothing. I don’t sound weird.” He says it so fast and loud I know I’m right. “It’s just that, well, Donny can be a lot. And since I did the whole knee-and-tape thing, he’s been even more . . . outspoken. I’d say he’ll be on his best behavior, but I’m not sure he has a best behavior.”
“I’m sure you’re exaggerating.” God. If he’s giving me this warning about the guy he trusts with his career, I wonder what he’s said about me? “He can’t be that bad.”
“If anything, I’m downplaying it.” He mutters something else I don’t quite catch. “Just . . . can you try to keep an eye on him? And promise you won’t quit.”
Wait. Is he anxious and kind of admitting that he needs my help? This might actually be serious.
“Or at least just wait until Wednesday to quit,” he adds on.
Annnnndddd there it is. He’s fine.
“Stop acting like I’m not equipped to spend an afternoon with your agent. I’m not a child and like I’ve told you a million times, it’s my job to handle people.” Ugh. See? This is why I shouldn’t be on the phone before coffee. I can’t have people messing with my energy this early. “I’m hanging up for real this time. Bye.”
I don’t wait for him to say anything before I end the call, but I do hear something that sounds suspiciously like laughter before it disconnects.
I can’t stand him.
—
THERE’S A KNOCK on my door three minutes after the time Quinton told me I should expect Donny to arrive.
Normally, I’m not one to be standing by the door and ready to go, but I’m going to sit in a box at the Mustangs game. I was standing at the door twenty minutes ago.
I open the door and am met face-to-face with who I can only assume is Donny. I’m five feet three inches and he’s only got a few inches on me. He’s wearing a suit that does nothing less than tell anyone who goes near him that he’s a very important person. And even though it’s a rare cloudy day in Colorado, he’s still wearing black sunglasses.
“Hi.” I extend my hand. “You must be Donny.”
“Yeah.” He returns my handshake and goes a tad bit overboard with the firm grip thing. “And you must be the broad that old bastard Mahler stuck on Q.” He lets go of my hand and starts to walk away before calling over his shoulder, “Fuckin’ move it, lady. I’m parked in a handicap spot and you live in fuckin’ Kansas. I have to get in that box early. I don’t play well with the general public and if the Lamar boys beat us, they’ll eat all the good shit.”
Okay . . .
So it looks like I might owe Quinton another apology. He definitely was not exaggerating when it came to Donny.
My condo is on the second floor of my building in Aurora—not Kansas. Thankfully I’m wearing flats, so I’m able to catch up to him faster than if I’d gone with the heels I was contemplating since this technically is a work event. When we reach his rental, he barely waits for me to close the door, let alone put on a seat belt before he’s speeding out of the parking lot.
“So let’s just get this shit out of the way. I’m not trying to chitchat and drag this bullshit out when I could be watching my boy play.” He turns off the sports radio he was listening to, but doesn’t so much as glance my way as he talks. “I don’t trust that racist fucker Mahler as far as I can throw the bastard. So that means I don’t trust you.”
“Considering you don’t know me, I wouldn’t think you’d trust me.” I dig my fingernails into my palms, hoping it will distract me from my rising temper. “But open hostility seems a little out of hand too.”
“Oh, hostile is one of the nicest fuckin’ words used to describe me,” he says like I just offered him a heartfelt compliment. “Q told me you’ve been helping him with his foundation, but I want you to know what I told him. I told him not to stand unless the entire fucking stadium is on fire. And even then, he better stay on a knee until the damn turf is melted to those tight-ass pants and
