Layne
TO SAY I WAS surprised when Mandy showed up this afternoon, only an hour before we had to leave for the game, is an understatement. First, she doesn’t watch baseball, and here she sits beside me, filing her nails at the fourth game of the World Series. I love her, but sometimes I wonder how we are friends.
The moment the ball left Samuelson’s bat, I knew it was all over.
I’m pretty sure Gracie has lost all use of her voice from the amount of screaming coming from her today.
I’d hoped to hang out and get a chance to chat with Bryant after the game to see him, but within twenty minutes of the game being over and the crowd settling down, Gracie is asleep in my arms.
Thankfully, Stanley is a lot stronger than he looks, as he takes her from me a hundred yards from the car.
It doesn’t take long to get Gracie situated and strapped into her booster seat. She doesn’t budge the whole way back to the hotel.
Once I have her tucked in bed, I make my way into our bathroom to take off my makeup and get ready for bed.
This is a memory she will never forget, the World Series. Whether the Smoke end up winning or not, this is something she will remember for the rest of her life.
As I’m about to hit the lights, there’s a soft knock at the front door. There is no way Bryant is back already. I’m sure they have a meeting after the game, so I almost consider not answering it, but who else could it be?
As soon as I open the door, I want to kick myself for not looking through the peephole first. A man I’ve never seen before, but with a kind smile, stands in the hallway. He must notice my nerves because he talks quickly.
“Ms. Scott, it’s okay. I’m Jason, Bryant’s agent. I wanted to chat with you real quick,” he rushes out.
My heart immediately steps into overdrive and I open the door slightly. He looks a little older than me, maybe late thirties, early forties, suit, clean-cut, nice looking.
“What can I do for you?” I ask, a little more forceful than I intended, but he scared the shit out of me.
“I wanted to chat with you about your relationship with Mr. Nash.”
“That’s probably a conversation you should have with him. Not me.”
“Well, he has been a little preoccupied with the games to fill me in on what’s going on between the two of you,” he replies, sounding a little irritated, which I get considering he is the face of Bryant in the media.
“I’m not comfortable having this discussion without talking to Bryant first,” I tell him sternly. This seems really out of the ordinary. I start to shut the door, and he puts his hand up to stop it.
When he starts to push the door back open, every hair on the back of my neck stands up and with every ounce of my strength, I throw my body against the door, slamming it on his hand.
“Son of a bitch,” comes from the other side of the door and he wrenches his hand from the doorframe, letting it slam shut.
Throwing the deadbolt over, my heart is still racing when I hear footsteps running away.
What the hell just happened?
My hands are shaking when I place my eye up to the peephole in the door to see if there is anybody in the hallway. I don’t see or hear anything, but I’m terrified to open this door to see if he’s gone. The problem is, I won’t be able to sleep until I know he’s gone.
I pull the flip lock from the door and open it slowly, ready for someone to be outside, but I see no one.
I step out into the hall, guarded, but it is completely empty.
Was that really his agent?
Stepping back into my room, I flip the locks and put the chain on the door.
Once I’m in bed, my brain won’t turn off. I’m sure he won’t see it until later tonight or tomorrow morning, but I shoot off a quick text to Bryant anyway. I don’t want to distract him from his focus right now, but I need to figure out if that was his agent, and if it wasn’t, who the hell he is.
Me: How you doing after your loss tonight? Was a tough game.
I don’t expect an answer anytime soon. I know they’re probably still trying to come down from the adrenaline high of their win. Imagine my surprise when less than a minute later my phone vibrates with an incoming text.
Bryant: It was a tough game, but we played well. They just played better tonight.
Before I can respond, it vibrates again.
Bryant: Thank you for being there. I really like looking up into the stands and seeing your beautiful face.
Why does he have to be this swoon-worthy bastard? It’s hard for me to keep my guard up when he says such sweet things.
Me: *kissy emoji* Stupid question. It just dawned on me we don’t talk about your business side of baseball much. This could be a date night topic. Lol. For instance, who’s your agent? Do you like him?
Bryant: That’s random. Lol. I do like my agent, although she’s a ball-buster, and her name is Dianne.
My heart speeds up, knowing now for sure the man who knocked on my door was not Bryant’s agent.
Me: Well, I guess you’d have to be a ball-buster in this business as a female agent.
Bryant: We’ll leave the rest of your random business questions till our next date. ;)
Bryant: Why aren’t you asleep? It’s late.
Me: I was going to bed actually. I wanted to make sure you were okay.
Bryant: Yeah, I’m fine. Shoulder is pissed, but other than that, my mind is intact.
Me: The trainer look at it after the game?
Bryant: Yes, ma’am. Lots of ibuprofen tonight and some heat, and it’ll be good as new for tomorrow’s game.
Me: I hear there’s a huge storm heading for Denver. They’re saying it’s a perfect storm. Supposed to start dumping snow and have like 50 mph winds over the next few days.
Bryant: I heard about that too. I guess we’ll see how it goes.
Me: You should probably get some sleep, babe. Another big game tomorrow.
Bryant: All right, beautiful. See you tomorrow.
Me: Good night, handsome.
The fact that I’m keeping what happened from him makes my stomach hurt. If he wasn’t in the middle of the most important games of his career, I’d tell him, but he needs to keep his mind on the game. He doesn’t need to be worrying about this.
I’ll talk to the hotel manager in the morning.