Her assistant buzzed in about an hour later.
“Tyler Anderson is on the phone,” Colleen said.
Elizabeth’s brows raised. Tyler Anderson was a premier hockey player for the Saint Louis Ice. And not one of her clients. “Thanks, Colleen.”
She picked up her phone. “This is Elizabeth Darnell.”
“Ms. Darnell, this is Tyler Anderson. I play for the Saint Louis Ice hockey team.”
“I know who you are, Tyler. What can I do for you?”
“First, you can call me Ty. Second, my agent is an ass.”
Elizabeth grinned, adrenaline pumping through her system as she took a seat at her desk and brought up Ty Anderson’s stats and bio. “I take it then that you’re interested in changing agents and working with me?”
“Yeah. Eddie Wolkowski said you’re a good agent and that we should talk.”
She made a mental note to send Eddie, one of her clients and another player on the Ice, a bottle of his favorite whiskey. “That’s nice of him to say.”
“Can we arrange a meeting?”
She clicked open her calendar. “At your convenience.”
“I want to get this done soon. I already gave my agent the boot.”
She made arrangements to meet with Ty, then hung up and swung around in her chair.
Finally, things were starting to look up. Ty was a star player, and even better, as she discovered when Colleen had brought her the list of Davis Agency clients, Ty Anderson was with the Davis Agency. It would be an absolute boon to steal him away from Don Davis since Davis had been doing his damned best to bleed her dry over the past six months.
It was about time she started getting some payback.
OPENING WEEK OF THE SEASON NEVER FAILED TO MAKE Gavin feel like a kid. It wouldn’t matter how many years he played baseball, he’d still be six years old, and the sights and sounds and smells of the home stadium would still fill him with the excitement he’d felt when his dad had brought him to his first Rivers game. He’d been wide-eyed and taken it all in, from the sheer size of the stadium to the smell of hot dogs and popcorn to the deafening screams of all the fans. He’d fallen in love with baseball that first day, and the thrill had never left him. It didn’t matter if he was sitting in the seats watching a game or standing at first base ready to field a ball. The love of the game was in his blood, and he’d never tire of it.
Putting on the uniform was an honor, one he didn’t take lightly. He knew how hard players worked to make it to the major leagues, knew how few did and how easily that privilege could be lost, and he savored every minute he was allowed to play, because it could all go away with one big injury or a loss of mojo.
So far so good, though. The preseason had ended pretty well for the Rivers, even though Gavin hadn’t batted as well as he thought he should. His game hadn’t been consistent. He’d been all over the place and not all of it had been good. He’d lost his focus somewhere mid preseason, and he hoped to get it back now that the season had started.
“You gonna just stare into your locker all night, or do you think you might get off your ass and play some baseball?”
Gavin lifted his gaze toward Dedrick. “I’m channeling my mojo.”
Dedrick leaned against the locker, his glove under his arm. “Maybe your mojo is somewhere up your ass, and that’s why you can’t find it.”
Gavin snorted. “Likely.”
“Or maybe your pretty redheaded girlfriend ran off with it when she stopped coming to the preseason games.”
Gavin didn’t want to think about Elizabeth. “No woman has ever had my mojo.” He grabbed his cup. “I got all the mojo I need right here.”
Dedrick laughed. “Yeah, that’s what we all say, ’til some woman brings us to our knees.”
“Just because it happened to you, doesn’t mean it’s going to happen to me, brother.” Gavin stood and followed Dedrick down the long hallway toward the dugout. “You ready?”
Dedrick touched his glove to Gavin’s. “Hell yeah. Ready for this season to get under way. You?”
“You know it.”
“Then let’s play some ball and kick Milwaukee’s ass.”
“SO GAVIN RILEY IS ONE OF YOUR CLIENTS, RIGHT?”
Elizabeth sat in the owner’s box with Ty, her new client. He wanted to see the game, she wanted to impress him, so she got him seats in the owner’s box since she and Clyde Ross, owner of the Rivers, were close.
She made it a point to be on friendly terms with all the team owners. Not too close, but close enough that negotiations would go her way and her clients would get a good deal. Owners trusted her because they knew she wasn’t out to screw them over. She didn’t give them drug- or steroid-addled players or players who were interested only in becoming the next action movie star. She represented players who were serious about their sport. Which was why she’d spent several days in close meetings with Ty Anderson before she signed him on. She checked out his background and his playing history, wanted to make sure there were no skeletons in his closet, then she hit him with some tough questions and let him know she’d tolerate no bullshit. He had to be serious about playing hockey and staying in the sport. Money was great and all, but as she told all her clients, it wasn’t just about the money. They had to love their sport.
By the time she’d spent several days with Ty, she was convinced he lived, breathed, and ate hockey, which was just what she loved in a client. They’d signed the papers yesterday.
“Yes, Gavin is one of my clients.”
“He’s damn good at first base. I played first base when I was a kid. Football, too. Tight end.”
Elizabeth lifted her glass of wine and took a sip, studying Ty. “A little schizophrenic about your sports, were you?”
Ty laughed, a deep, booming sound that matched the man. “Hey, I had to play them all before I figured out what I wanted to do. Hockey seemed to fit me. Probably because I was always getting into fights.”
“I can so see that about you.” She was going to make a fortune off him and product endorsements. Don Davis might be able to sign players to a team contract, but he didn’t know shit about promoting a player through the media.
Women’s tongues were going to be dragging on the ground when they discovered Ty. Elizabeth had to get him a cologne or deodorant ad. Something that would feature him in print media. He had steely bluish gray eyes that simply penetrated when he looked at you, a square jaw, the kind of rough stubble that made a woman want his face rubbing across the tender parts of her skin, and he was tall and just utterly built like a man.