I hated social media. It was a fucking joke. My phone blew up with texts and alerts. My name was smeared across every damn sports headline in the past hour. It was worse than this morning and the splash about the girl in the bar. Worse than walking out on practice. Everything was balls up in Rio. There was only one person who could get me out of it.

I looked at phone. Rick had called three times.

I finally phoned him back. It rang a few times before he answered. “Hello, Rick.”

“Don’t start with that bullshit,” he fumed. “What the fuck is going on out there? I started calling this morning. Why haven’t you taken my calls?”

I had walked from the street where I left the photographer bleeding on the sidewalk. It seemed like wherever I tried to go, people were staring at me. I didn’t know if it was because they recognized me, or because they were now afraid I was some kind of bloody lunatic.

I paced along the edge of the athletes’ village. I still had to pass through security before I could check in to my room. According to the equipment crew at the hotel this morning, my travel bag was already deposited here. It was a safe haven for now.

“You know how the press is. The guy shoved a camera in my face. The idiot swiped my cheek with his lens. He cut me, Rick. So I shoved him.”

“You shoved him? Great.” Rick paused. “And you walked out on practice? Both in one day.”

“They weren’t ready for us. There was no practice. No kits. No boots. The pitch was being worked on. Did you expect me to sit on my arse the entire time?”

He groaned. “I don’t know what I expect anymore. I’ve already had calls from Dorsey, Aid-Thirst, and Skillz. While you’ve been shagging every girl in Brazil I’ve been trying to put your business back together.”

“What did they want?” I asked. Those were my biggest endorsement deals.

“They’re threatening to drop you. Revolution has flown someone out there to have a meeting.”

“Why in the hell would they do that?”

“You have a video game with them that is supposed to launch in two months. Have you forgotten? You’re a loose cannon, Lach. You’re a liability for any of these companies now. Don’t you see that?”

I shook my head, feeling the tension seize around my shoulders.

“No, I play football. There’s no other keeper out there like me. We have contracts. They can’t touch me.”

“Contracts that can be broken if you violate the morality clauses,” he reminded me. “Revolution is the biggest electronic company in the world. If you don’t take the meeting with them seriously everyone will cut you.”

“I’m no different than I’ve always been. If they don’t like it, they can—”

“Do you even hear yourself? I can’t do this anymore, Lach. I’ve tried. Really I think I’ve given you every chance, but I can’t represent someone who doesn’t give a damn about his brand. You are a one-man wrecking ball.”

“What are you saying?” I could feel the sweat rolling down my neck.

There was silence on the other end of the call. I heard sirens in the distance. Rio was a noisy city.

“I’m saying that I have to end this relationship with you. I can’t be your agent any longer. I’m tired of the outraged phone calls. I’m tired of being threatened. I’m tired of being asked to babysit you. It’s bullshit. You’re a damn talented footballer. But I’ve had enough with your personal life. It’s too much stress. There’s not enough money anymore to make it worth it.”

I had an instinct to fight for my cause. To ask him to stick it out with me, but it evaporated as the anger took over.

“Fine. We’re done.” I gnashed my teeth. Years of loyalty meant nothing to him. I wasn’t about to beg.

“That’s it? You don’t have anything else to say? No apology? Nothing?” he asked, raising his voice more than one octave.

“I’ve got nothing for you. Good luck finding another star, because I’m moving on.” The words felt bitter on my tongue, but as soon as I said them, I couldn’t reel them back in.

“I’ll send you the paperwork.” His voice was clipped. “Goodbye, Lachlan.”

I didn’t bother with a goodbye. I hung up and shoved the phone in my back pocket.

I realized things had gone from bad to worse. But I didn’t need Rick. I could handle my own press. I could handle the sponsors, the teams, the Olympics.

I didn’t need him. I didn’t need anyone.