Boxer

“Plates, napkins, cupcakes...” I glance at the list Marie jotted down last minute, but it’s nearly impossible to read. Plates? What color plates? What size? Should the napkins be white? Red? Which candles go with unicorn theme?

Speaking of unicorns, I’m fairly certain one of these mystical creatures galloped into Target and vomited all over my cart. That’s the only explanation for the amount of junk I have in here. Glitter and streamers poke out from every nook and cranny.

I’m six foot three, over two hundred pounds, and I can barely push this load of junk through the aisles. I’d thought that getting everything would be easiest, but now I’m having second thoughts, and I can’t bear the idea of putting everything back.

Now, there aren’t very many things that make me nervous. I’ve faced off with the biggest, meanest players in the NHL and not batted an eye. I’ve stopped a mugging mid-mug, and didn’t blink. I’ve driven over a hundred miles an hour on the 405, and still, I hardly broke a sweat.

Ask me to plan a birthday party for a six-year-old princess, and I feel like I’ve been told to walk the plank. Except this is worse, because the plank is purple and pink and slick with sparkles.

I hate to do this, but it’s the only thing I can think of in my panic. Pulling out my phone, I hit dial on the last number I called.

“Oh, hey, you!” Jocelyn sounds pleasantly surprised. “Long time no talk. We’ve made it what... two hours?”

“I need help.”

“Of course. Anything.” Her voice turns serious in an instant. “What’s wrong? Is it Charli?”

“No, not exactly. Well, yes.”

“Is she okay? What happened? Was it that stupid swing set?”

I can’t help but laugh. “No, she’s fine, it’s actually me. I’m in trouble.”

“Where are you? I’m in the car.”

“Target.”

“Target?”

“Listen.” I pause, flinching as I ask this next question. I know if I loop her into this, I’m stepping beyond the bounds of business that I’d just requested we keep, but I can’t help it. I have nobody else to ask. “You turned six once, right?”

“Like, six years old?” She gives a tinkling laugh. “As a matter of fact, I did.”

“And you had a birthday party?”

She hesitates. “Yes.” Her voice is a bit distant, almost sad. “The theme was horses.”

“Oh, thank God.” I rest a hand on my forehead and pinch away the stress. “I know I’ll owe you big time, but I have a favor to ask. Marie’s mother just got sick—the nanny—and I sent her home for the week to help out.”

“And Charli’s birthday is...?”

“Saturday.”

“Ah.”

“Marie normally takes care of everything. She buys stuff, does stuff, prepares stuff... she’ll be gone until Sunday.”

“I’ll be right there.”

“Are you sure?” I look over the cart with a skeptical eye. “I have half of Target in my cart, and it’s not pretty.”

“As long as we’re not going down the Barbie aisle, we should be good.”

“No Barbies.”

“I’m on my way.”

“I can’t tell you how much this means to me, Jocelyn. If I had someone else to call, I would, but my parents are upstate, and I only have a brother, and—”

“Stop it,” she says briskly. “We’ll get through this no problem. I’m ordering you to grab a burger or something—you’ll need energy—and then sit still. I’ll be right there. Which Target?”

“Culver City.”

“On my way. Oh, Boxer?”

“Yes?”

“I was actually about to call you. Unrelated to this, of course, I have a favor to ask of you.”

“Anything.”

“You’ll... ahh,” she pauses. “Want to know what it is first.”

“It can’t be worse than a six-year-old birthday party at the last minute.”

“I’m hoping you’ll sign an endorsement deal with ComfortBox. They’ll fly you out to New York for a two-day shoot, so you’d be spending one night away from Charli. Seven figures.”

“One night away.”

“Of all that, and you heard one night away?”

“I don’t like being gone.”

“What if Charli could come with us?”

“Us?”

“Er, you. I suppose I could go with you if you needed help to organize and schedule things.”

“This is the undies company?”

“They sell men’s undergarments, and they want you to be the face of their new boxer campaign. It’ll be a quick photoshoot; it’ll be fun. You’ll look great—I promise.”

“I don’t mean this the wrong way, but you’re not my agent. What do you get out of this?”

“Nothing!”

To my surprise, she sounds downright cheerful. I echo her in confusion. “Nothing.”

“I just got the call from Matthew not ten minutes ago. I was going to call Duke and hand him the lead. Think of it as an olive branch. Duke will get the agent’s commission—it’ll be a nice chunk of change to start his retirement off right. You’ll have enough to set up a solid college fund for Charli.”

“And you?”

“Look, I just think you’re the best man for the job. I don’t need the money.”

She sounds sincere, her voice quiet, and in all honesty, I’m speechless. I clear my throat, pretending to stall, but I already have my answer. Jocelyn’s stuck her neck out for me, and I’m not going to let her down. She’s thought of everything—including, especially, Charli.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” I say, huskily. “Thank you.”

“Really?!”

“You’re helping me with this thing, aren’t you?” I gesture to the cart, realizing she can’t see me, and clarify. “The party. This is the least I can do to thank you.”

“Great! I’m going to call Duke. When he contacts you, pretend we haven’t talked. It’s best if he sets things up. That’s how I wanted everything to go.”

“Okay.”

“Thanks, Boxer.”

“Jocelyn?”

“Hmm?”

“See you soon.”

When we click off the phone, my palms are sweaty. In the last ten minutes, my emotions have been taken on a rollercoaster. Panic to relief to surprise to... touched? God, I’m turning into a pansy. I’m nervous just thinking about Jocelyn walking through those doors; my insides are a pile of goo.

In some odd way, it feels as if we’ve broken through a barrier. When I needed help, I called Jocelyn. She’s coming to my rescue. Isn’t that what friends do?

Look, I know I told Jocelyn that I wanted to sign with a friend, not a stranger, but I hadn’t meant this level of friendship. I’d just wanted her to tone down the formality and call me Boxer instead of Mr. Boxer. Now she’s helping me plan my kid’s birthday party. I hadn’t meant for things to get so far out of hand.

When did things get so complicated? I just needed a new agent. And now, I’m afraid, I’ve found something else entirely. I’m starting to fall for Jocelyn Jones, and I’m not sure I can go back to the way things were before.