I hold back my first reaction and say, “Wow, Tarek! What are you doing here?”
He frowns.
“You still have clients, I guess,” I say cheerfully. “Good for you!”
How’s that for condescending? I give myself a mental high five.
He laughs. “I do. And you?”
“You know I do.” I flash a toothy smile, holding back the word “asshole.”
He shrugs. “I heard a rumor that you signed Van Halston.” He eyes me coolly. “Good move.”
Hunter appears behind Tarek’s shoulder with an “are you okay?” look on his face.
“Hi, Hunter,” I say calmly. “Hunter, this is Tarek Bennani. We used to work together at Pinnacle Sports Management. Tarek, Hunter Morrissette.”
Tarek turns to Hunter, who towers over him and glowers down at him. “Hunter. Good to meet you. I hear you’re a UFA.”
“Almost.” Hunter’s smile is grim. Technically he can’t sign a contract until July first.
“Haha, yeah.” Tarek’s phony smile feels like a spider crawling up my spine.
“Hunter’s another of my clients,” I tell Tarek, although I’m sure he already knows that too.
He nods. “Good luck. Rumor has it the Bears are interested in you.”
Hunter’s face tightens even more.
“I heard that rumor!” I say breezily. “Well, nice to see you, Tarek, but we have meetings to get to.”
I move away and Hunter follows with a last narrow-eyed look at Tarek. We march out of the arena.
“Fuck him,” I mutter.
“Er…I got the impression you weren’t happy to see him.”
“Hell no.” I stare straight ahead while Hunter leads me to where he parked his car. “I fucking hate him.”
“Whoa. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that.” He shoots me a sideways glance I can feel. “You okay?”
“I will be.”
“Where do you want to go for dinner? Or do you want to just head back to my place?”
“Your place sounds good.”
I hate that I’m this upset from seeing Tarek again. Goddammit. As Hunter drives, I take some deep breaths and try to tamp down my annoyance. Hunter doesn’t say much, but I’m aware of the looks he’s giving me. He knows I’m perturbed.
I think about how familiar this drive must be to Hunter after three seasons with the Storm. It’s not a done deal, but I don’t think it’s going to happen. I wish I could make it otherwise, but I can’t fight the dollars and the salary cap.
In Hunter’s bright apartment, I kick off my shoes, drop my bag on the floor and stretch out on his couch. “Bleh.”
“Okay, what’s up with that dude? He’s got you all riled up.” Hunter sits next to me and pulls my feet onto his lap. He starts massaging them, and sweet Jesus, that feels good.
I let out a small moan. “Thank you.” I wore flats because I knew I’d be on my feet a lot, but they still hurt.
He digs his thumb into one arch. “So? You worked with him?”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “He was my boss at Pinnacle. And he’s a sexist, racist jerk.”
“Oh.”
I haven’t told Hunter about all the reasons I left Pinnacle. I’ve always felt like it was a failure on my part. Like I ran away. Like I couldn’t handle being part of the boys’ club.
“Tell me about it,” he says softly, rubbing my foot.
“He was…inappropriate.”
Hunter’s hands still. I feel the tension in his arms. “What does that mean?”
He knows what it means.
“Did he touch you?” he demands. “If he did, I’m going back to the arena to fucking punch him in the face.”
“No. Don’t do that.”
“He did.”
“No.” I sigh. “It was all talk or texts. When they hired me, he told me I was pretty, but I needed bigger boobs.”
“Jesus Christ!”
“Yeah. He made personal comments all the time. He called one of the other new agents a racist slur. One time, he got mad in a meeting and threw a chair at me.”
“WHAT?”
“He missed.” I bite my lip. “It was fine, but it scared me. I managed not to cry in front of him, but I sure did when I got home. He was supposed to be my mentor, but instead he made belittling comments about me to other people. And that was before I left the company.”
Hunter growls. Literally growls. Tension radiates off him.
“He didn’t think I had it in me to be an agent. He kept telling me women are too soft, don’t know enough about sports and contracts and what makes athletes tick.”
“He told you that?”
I snort laugh. “Yeah. Idiot. He thought I was too “motherly.” I swallow, the pain of that accusation still like a knife in my gut. “He said players would take advantage of me.”
Hunter makes another rough noise.
“Anyway, I talked to a few other people at the agency and everyone agreed he’s a dick, but people had complained to senior management about him before and nothing ever happened. I had to make a decision. I didn’t know what to do. Report him and take a chance on losing my job. Also, pissing him off. Ignore him and try to get along with him. Or leave.”
“And…?”
“I left.” I close my eyes. “I felt like a coward, but I knew I wasn’t going to change him and it looked doubtful I’d advance very far in the company with him there. And reporting him likely wasn’t going to do anything except make things worse. I felt guilty. I felt like a loser.”
“No. Oh, fuck no, Kate.” Hunter moves my feet off his lap and reaches for me, pulling me up to hug me. “You did the right thing for you.”
“Yeah.” My mouth is muffled in his shirt. “But I didn’t do anything to help the other women at the agency. Or anyone who came after me and had to put up with that shit.”
“Ah. I get that. But sometimes you can’t help everyone. I know you want to. You’re a strong, amazing woman.”
My heart squeezes. I grip his shirt tightly and hold on. He doesn’t look down on me for what happened. How many times did I ask myself if I was responsible for Tarek’s behavior? How many times did I wonder what I could have done differently? How many times did I beat myself up for being weak? And then question myself, wondering if he was right. “Thank you.” I sniffle. “When I left the agency, some of my clients came with me. No one big, but still, it annoyed management there, and they didn’t hold back from telling people in the business that I wasn’t good at my job.”
“Fuckers.”
“Yeah.” I lift my chin. “But I work hard. I’m showing people who I really am.”
“You’ve done great.”
“Thank you. And thanks for coming up to us at the arena. I was freaked out by seeing him.”
“I could tell.” His hand rubs up and down my back in a warm, comforting gesture. “I know you can handle anyone and anything, but I was right there and…I like helping you, sometimes.”
The pressure behind my eyes is intense. I don’t want to cry. I never cry. But having someone look out for me when I’m always looking out for everyone else… it’s amazing. Touching. Glorious.