He should have gotten her number, or asked her out. Instead, he’d acted brain-dead.
That wasn’t his style. Probably because he never had to go after a woman. They always came to him.
He moved to go after her, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned to see his agent, Elizabeth Darnell, looking up at him.
He frowned. “Liz. What are you doing here?”
“We need to talk, remember?”
He frowned, recalling somewhere in the back of his mind he’d agreed to have a quick sit-down with her tonight. But right now his attention was on the door, where Savannah had disappeared. “Not now.”
“Definitely now. Did you forget the meeting we agreed to?”
He more than likely ignored Liz’s edict that they had some important business to talk about tonight. Since he’d signed with her a few months ago, there’d been a lot of orders. He didn’t like being given orders.
He tried for one of his patient, charming smiles. “Come on, Liz. We’re at a party.”
She raised her gaze to his in a look of disbelief. “Really? You’re going to try that smokin’-hot charm on me? I’m immune, you know.” She flashed her engagement ring at him.
“I wasn’t flirting with you, honest. Gavin would kick my ass.”
“You’re damn right, he would.”
“I was just trying to get back to the party. There’s this woman…”
Liz rolled her eyes. “You have plenty of time to party. And I’m sure about twenty women to choose from, if not more. I just need a few minutes of your time. And we had an agreement when I signed you,” she said, giving him that steely-eyed gaze. “Remember?”
“Yeah, yeah. I remember.”
“Good. Then let’s go.”
“We’re leaving?”
“Just across the hall. There’s someone we need to meet with. When we’re finished you can get back to the party. And your women. And whatever it is that you want to do with them.”
Hopefully it wouldn’t take long. Maybe Savannah was still around somewhere and he could hook up with her again.
Elizabeth led him to a room across the hall. It was a small meeting room with rows of tables.
“Have a seat.”
“I’d rather stand.”
She gave him the look, the one that meant she was going to argue until she won. He was just as stubborn, but time was important right now, so he grabbed a chair, spun it around, and straddled it.
“What did I do now?”
“Tonight? Nothing so far. But I want to remind you about your attitude.”
He rolled his eyes. “That’s what you wanted to meet about tonight? We’ve already had this discussion.”
“I know. And we’re going to talk about it again. The hometown crowd likes a winner. They also like someone who isn’t constantly in the tabloids for an overindulgence of partying, for treading on his fellow players like they’re the shit beneath his Nikes, for accumulating more speeding tickets than the national debt, and for throwing the very expensive cameras of the paparazzi into a fountain. And if that wasn’t bad enough, following it up with a punch to the guy’s jaw.”
“Hey, he shoved the f**king camera in my face. Not just close to my face, but in my face. What was I supposed to do—say cheese and smile for him?”
“Yes. That’s exactly what you were supposed to do. Or turn around and walk away. You need to learn to control your temper and be taught how to behave in public. You need some lessons on how to interact with the media.”
Cole snorted. “I think I know how to handle myself just fine.”
Liz tapped her foot, though how she managed to stand upright on those five-inch heels was beyond him.
“And if you recall, when I agreed to sign you on as a client—mainly because no other agent wanted to be within five miles of you—and I managed to somehow get you signed with St. Louis, you agreed to do anything I asked of you.”
He thought that meant the slightly painful salary cut he’d had to take. At least Liz was savvy enough to put performance bonuses in the contract. He’d show them he wasn’t washed up. He was still an ass-kicker and this season would prove it. “I did what you asked, didn’t I?”
“Oh, the salary cut was just the beginning, Cole. Your image is toast. You know it, I know it, and Coach Tallarino knows it. If the coach wasn’t such a good friend of your cousin Mick—and if he didn’t owe me a few dozen favors—I guarantee you wouldn’t have this job.”
Cole wasn’t buying it. The Traders signed him because he had the talent and plenty of it. Agents liked to make threats to keep their players in line. He knew how this game was played. All he had to do was sit here and listen to Liz’s spiel for a few minutes, then he’d be outta here.
“The clock is ticking. It’s only a matter of time before no one will touch you, no matter how good you are on the field. You’re a PR nightmare.”
He stood and faced Liz, doing exactly what she said he wasn’t capable of. He took a deep breath and tried to keep his temper under control. “I’m a damn good wide receiver.”
“That might be true, but until you stop the nonsense off the field and prove to the coach, your team, the media, and the general public that you’ve grown up and your bad-boy days are over, it doesn’t matter if you score ten touchdowns a game. Reputation is everything in football.”
He blew out a sigh. Why couldn’t his stats be enough? What difference did it make what he did during his off hours? So he liked to party a little. So what? His bad rep was the media’s fault anyway. He was at the top of his game. After six years in the NFL, he’d damn well earned the right to relax and enjoy life.
But yeah. PR. He understood. And if he had to toe the line for a while until he got in the good graces of the fans and the coach, that’s what he’d do.
“What do you want me to do?”
“I’m bringing in someone to help you.”
He frowned. “Who?”
“Just hang on a second.” She sent a text message, and a minute later the door opened.
He was shocked when Savannah walked in.
Relieved to see her, Cole grinned, glad he hadn’t lost the opportunity to spend more time with her.
“Hey. I was wondering where you’d wandered off to,” he said.