I put my feet up on my shiny, new, sparkling glass desk, and survey my office. My very own office. I can’t believe that…

“Settling in well, I see?”

I almost knock over a cup full of pens as I swing my legs off the desk. The voice of my boss, Lisa Malone, the head of NDB Sports and Entertainment, startles the hell out of me, and I try to regain some sense of professionalism.

“I am! Thank you so much for bringing me out here. I never expected a promotion like this.”

Lisa winks at me. “You earned it, lady. With what you’ve done for Lyric Gerard’s career? Come on. Anyway, get yourself settled, then meet me in my office. I have a few clients I want you to sort through and decide who to add to your roster out here.”

“You got it!”

Lisa turns and leaves, shutting the door behind her, and I let out an exhale of relief. This may be my office, but I need to remember to shut the door if I’m going to lounge. I’ve only been in Chicago for a week, and this is my first day at NDB, so I haven’t really had a chance to acclimate myself with anything here.

But I also haven’t had a chance to miss Los Angeles, which is probably a good thing. I haven’t been this far away from my best friend Lyric since we were kids, and I’ve never moved to a new city alone before. But when the talent agency I worked for in LA offered me this promotion to Senior Agent, Lyric and I both agreed that there was no way I could turn it down. Now I manage Lyric’s career from here, and I’ve been given a huge opportunity to take on even more clients.

It’s everything I ever hoped for.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not scared. There is so much responsibility, and no matter what route I choose now that I’m here, people’s careers will rest on my shoulders—and not just the career of my best friend.

Speaking of, I realize that Lisa wasn’t actually offering me time to get settled. She wanted me in her office ASAP and I need to get over there. I grab my sweater and my laptop, then hustle down to Lisa’s corner office, only to find her on the phone, talking a mile a minute to someone in Spanish. She gestures for me to sit down across from her, in a lavish chair that probably cost more than my first car. I sink into it, and for a second I feel like I could fall asleep, which is not bad since it seems she’ll be on the phone for an hour. She finally hangs up with a throaty laugh and an amused shake of her head.

“That boy is going to be the death of me. So, Kylie. I figured the best thing for us to do is give you a few options about how you want to move forward from here. I have a stack of files, and I want you to pick one of our new clients to take on. I suggest challenging yourself right out of the gate, but it’s your decision of course.”

That is definitely not a suggestion, I silently answer as I take a stack of folders from her perfectly manicured hand. I flip through them, one by one, and analyze their potential.

The first is a Japanese baseball player who moved from his country and was picked up by a minor league. The second is woman tennis player from Texas. And the last is an amateur, middleweight boxer from right here in Chicago. He catches my eye immediately.

“Tell me about him,” I say as I hold up his folder.

She raises her eyebrow with a knowing smile. “Ah, yes. I thought he might interest you. That’s ‘Atom Bomb,’ as he’s known on the amateur circuit. He kind of came out of nowhere, honestly. Cutting his teeth on let’s just say, ‘unsanctioned’ fights around Chicago. But his trainer has been pushing him to think bigger and he came to our attention when he took down the heavy favorite in the Chicago Golden Gloves last month. We think this guy could be huge. Vegas title fight huge. But according to conversations with his trainer, he can be… difficult. Are you up for the challenge, Kylie?”

That’s also not really a question. “You bet I am! When can I meet with him?”

“I’ll call his trainer and see if you can go by the gym tonight. Can I offer some constructive criticism though?”

I nod.

“You might want to go home and change first.”

I look down at my outfit, an expensive brightly colored pantsuit with my giant heels. “What’s the problem with what I’m wearing?”

Lisa laughs. “You’re going to a boxing gym full of sweaty men, honey. I’m not saying you have to show up in a gray hoodie and sweatpants. But you may want to tone it down a little. Just for the first meeting at least. Then you can bring on the full ‘business bitch’ persona I hired you for.”

I shrug. “If you say so. Any other tips?”

“Yeah,” Lisa says with a sly smile. “Don’t let him push you around.”

* * *

I’m standing in front of my closet, baffled as to what I’m supposed to wear. Given how much I work lately, my idea of “dressing down” is flannel pajamas, a glass of wine, and a bowl of popcorn. I have no idea what a woman is supposed to wear to a boxing gym. Eventually, I break down and call Lyric.

“Kylie, baby! How is the Windy City?” I can hear the smile in her voice, and it makes me a little homesick.

“Tell me about the sunshine. I miss the sunshine,” I say wistfully, and she laughs.

“What sunshine? It’s cloudy and gloomy and everyone is depressed. I think you took the sun with you when you left.”

I roll my eyes, but am a little grateful for the lie. “Yeah, yeah. Listen, I need help. I have a meeting with a potential client, a boxer, and my boss said I need to dress for the occasion. Any suggestions?”

Lyric pauses for a second, then bursts out laughing. “You? In a boxing gym? I’ve never even seen you run to catch a cab.”

“Lyric! Come on! Just… help me!”

She laughs again, and I can faintly hear her tuning her guitar in the background as she balances the phone on her shoulder. “Well, you aren’t working out or anything. You just need to give off the vibe of being laid back and approachable,” she stops to laugh again and I curse at her. “So, maybe some jeans and a basic T-shirt? And sneakers? Do you own any of those things, Kylie?”

“Of course, I do!” I snap at her. Though for a second, I start to question whether or not I own sneakers. I may not. “Actually, would a pair of ballet flats work?”

Lyric sighs. “I guess. But do you have a band T-shirt or something?”

I start digging through a box of clothes in my closet, and randomly find a tank top with some ‘70s band logo on it. “How did this get here?” I ask out loud. “Who the hell are the New York Dolls?”

“That’s mine!” Lyric yells. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that shirt! Well, you lucked out this time, magpie. Wear that and a sweater, jeans, and your flats. Boom. You’re good.”

I breathe a sigh of relief. “Thanks, Lyric. I’ll mail this back after I wash it.”

“You better. Hey… question,” she whispers.

“Yes?” I answer as I slip out of my dress pants.

“Is he hot?”

I laugh as I shimmy into my jeans. “I have to go, Lyric. Kisses!”

“Kisses!” she says as she hangs up, leaving me to have a mild panic attack over the idea of meeting this guy. Not only am I diving into sports management for the first time in my life, but he definitely is hot, and I can’t let it scramble my brain.

You can do this, Kylie. You can do this.

...Can’t you?