Power Play (Play Makers Book 4) (42 page)

Even before Wyatt had settled in, the pitch
began. “I want to represent you, Wyatt. Not just on this deal, but
for your entire career going forward. As you know, I checked with
John Spurling first, and I hope you take that as a good sign. A
harbinger of things to come. Once you sign with me, my loyalty is
absolute. One hundred percent commitment. I’d never do anything to
jeopardize an existing client. And frankly,” he said, leaning
forward to make the point, “it’s not just my quote-unquote elite
players. Because to PMA
, every
client is elite.”

“It’s impressive,” Wyatt agreed.

Murf grinned. “I’m gonna give you my
standard pitch but I suspect you won’t be impressed. You’ve been on
your own, your brand is established, and you can buy all the
private jet travel, legal services, and handholding you want. So
once we’re done with the bullshit, I’ll tell you what I
really
have to offer.”

Darcie listened in rapt silence to the list
of amenities PMA offered. Maybe it didn’t impress a guy like Wyatt,
but it still blew
her
mind. And the idea there might be more
to it—something even Bam Bannerman hadn’t been dazzled with—made
her imagination dance.

Finally, Murf hunched forward—toward Wyatt,
not Darcie—his tone conspiratorial. “When I started out, I was
nothing.
Had
nothing. Or at least nothing but street smarts
and a hunger for success. Step one? Signing Cal’s hot young QB,
Johnny ‘the Player’ Spurling. I was a huge fan of his talent. His
heart. But it was more than that. Instinct told me he’d be huge.
Which meant his agent would be huge. So I went after him. Gave him
my best pitch. And even though dozens of established agents were
recruiting him, we had an instant rapport. Unfortunately, he had
reservations. Because one of those experienced agents had
bad-mouthed me to Aaron Spurling. All lies, but to John and his
dad, fairly damning ones.”

Darcie’s jaw hung open in shock. She had
never heard this story. Never seen Murf this way during
any
story. Almost cold-blooded in his understated rage.

“I could have tried to defend myself,” Murf
told Wyatt coolly. “But these accusations were smoke and mirrors. I
could have reported the guy. Maybe even sued him. But by then, my
shot with John Spurling would have passed. So I asked myself—what
kind of agent did I want to be? A whiner? A loser? Or a
winner.”

“A winner,” Darcie said breathlessly.
“Right?”

Murf grinned. “Yeah, that was the plan. And
luckily, I knew a lot about this particular shithead, and even more
about the career of his hottest client. Not because I thought I
could sign the client, but just because he was an awesome player.
So I flew out to Boston to meet him. Conned him into having drinks
with me. Told him how
I’d
handle his career—his future,
really, not just the next contract—if I were his agent.”

Wyatt’s grin echoed Murf’s. “You
signed
him? Right out from under the shithead?”

“It was sweet. And trust me, I came through
for that player again and again. He’s a multi-millionaire
today—with two kids at Stanford and a chain of restaurants—because
he dumped that jerk and signed with someone with vision.”

“And after that, Johnny was begging to sign
with you?” Darcie guessed proudly.

“He always wanted to. It was Coach Spurling
who needed convincing. And yeah, that did it. Lucky for me.”

“And lucky for John,” Wyatt murmured. “What
can I say, Murf? I’m sold.”

“Good. Because you need me. Anyone can be a
nice guy. And anyone can go for the jugular. But I can do both.
Virtually at the same time. Which is exactly what you need with the
Jets.”

Wyatt nodded. “Where do I sign?”

Murf leaned back and studied him intently.
“With
me,
right?”

“Huh?”

“These days, I’m usually selling PMA. But
not to you. There’s no other agent in PMA, and maybe not anywhere,
who can do this. Definitely not Darcie. I want that to be crystal
clear. She’s my protégée, and she’s gonna be the best. But she’ll
never have the kind of cold-blooded instinct I’m talking about. You
need to understand that. Agree with it. If we do this, it’s not
Wyatt Bourne and PMA. It’s the Surgeon and Patrick goddammed
Murphy.”

Darcie felt as though the top of her head
had blown completely away. Who
was
this guy? Did
Emily
know about him?

But it must have resonated with Wyatt
because he leaned forward and growled, “Let’s do it,” like they
were headed straight into battle.

“Great.” Murf’s sunny, laid-back persona
reemerged. “I’ve got the papers right here. We’ll sign, then take a
break while I personally use the hotel’s equipment to make
confidential copies. I’ll need some time to set things up with the
Jets too. So you folks order some lunch, and I’ll be back to go
over strategy for tomorrow’s showdown.”

“So soon?” Wyatt asked.

“Once they hear I’m your agent, they’ll be
hot for a meeting. I’m known for my great advice, right? And the
smart move here is to re-sign with them. So they’ll think it’s good
news for them, poor bastards.”

“You still feel that way?” Wyatt asked.
“That I should stay with them?”

“In my mercenary heart? Absolutely. They’ll
give you anything you want, for as long as you want, under any
terms you want. It’s enough to make a grown man weep.” His blue
eyes twinkled. “Unfortunately, I promised to make
your
dreams come true. So that’s what I’m gonna do.”

• • •

Darcie wasn’t sure what to think about this
new Murf, but Wyatt clearly loved the guy. Maybe even feared him a
little. But mostly he seemed relieved that Johnny was on board with
the plan, not just because they were rivals, but because he valued
his instincts.

While they waited, they shared notes and
kisses on the balcony until a knock at the door announced the
arrival of three BLT lunch plates. Then they settled back into
their assigned seats, where Wyatt wolfed down his sandwich as they
tried to guess what Round Two with Patrick “goddammed” Murphy would
bring. A horse head in the bed of the unsuspecting Jets owner?

When he returned, he gave Wyatt a copy of
the signed contract and shook his hand again, insisting it was a
great day for football. Then he gave Darcie a key card for the
suite. “So you can come and go as you please. My flight leaves at
five, and I won’t be back until Wednesday, but you kids can use the
place as you see fit.”

She rolled her eyes. “Enough already.”

Grinning, he took a bite of his sandwich.
“Any questions at this point?”

Wyatt nodded. “I’d like to be at these
meetings. Both of them.”

He laughed. “That’s like
me
asking
you
if I can be in the huddle on opening day. Let’s each do
what we do best, shall we?” Without missing a beat, he told Darcie,
“I’m tempted to take
you,
just for the experience, but I
might need you here. So I’ll have you and Wyatt work on press
releases. Statements from us and from him personally. Maybe even
work up some samples for the Jets and Rustlers in case they’re
speechless.”

“Oh, fun!”

Murf glanced at Wyatt. “She’s a sport.”

“Always.”

“So . . .” The agent eyed his
new client intently. “I always ask this question right up front,
but you can take your time answering. There’s a lot going on, so if
you want to wait until things settle down, no problem.”

“Okay.”

As Darcie listened in silence, he gave Wyatt
a modified version of what he had said to Bam so many weeks ago,
namely, how PMA could manage scandals with discretion as long as
they were given a quick heads-up. “I don’t expect this kind of
problem from you, obviously, since your reputation and character
are spotless, and you’re smart enough to stay out of the limelight.
But things happen, so be aware we can help. And if there are
skeletons that could pop out at the wrong
moment . . .” He gave him a confident stare.
“Forewarned is forearmed, right? So if there
is
something,
be aware you can tell me—individually if that’s how you want it—in
complete confidence.”

Darcie expected Wyatt to dismiss the subject
for the very reasons Murf had mentioned. He was a private person
who hadn’t had a hint of scandal despite all the media
attention.

Instead, he took the suggestion to heart. “I
learned to stay out of trouble the hard way. So yeah, there are a
few skeletons, as you call them. They’re under control, but if they
came out . . .” He gave Darcie a glance. “I’m
thinking about Hannah, for one.”

“Oh! I didn’t even think of poor
Hannah.”

Wyatt turned back to Murf. “This particular
situation happened years ago. When I was still in high school. So
the chances it would surface now are nil, especially because only
three people in the world ever heard about it, and one of them has
been dead for years.”

“And the other two are you and Darcie?”

“Exactly. It wouldn’t be the end of the
world if people knew. But like you said, I value my privacy, so I
don’t want it getting out. And I’m confident it won’t.”

Murf nodded. “It’s your call, Wyatt.”

He exhaled sharply, then surprised Darcie
again, this time by launching into the story. It was a shorter
version and not nearly as angst-y, which made the catch in his
voice even more poignant when he finished with, “I never told
anyone until this week. And Hannah didn’t have anyone
to
tell, poor kid.”

Murf reached over and patted his arm. “My
mom was a junkie. So I get it. It sucks, buddy.”

Wyatt stared in clear disbelief.

“You never shake the guilt, do you?” Murf
continued warmly. “That feeling there was something you—a helpless
kid—could have done to save her. Man . . .” He shook
his head as though overwhelmed by memories, and Darcie understood
why. She had only heard bits and pieces from his tragic childhood,
but knew it had almost killed him.

Literally.

The miracle that he had made something of
himself—something disciplined and loving—still awed her. And his
empathy for Wyatt? She had tried so hard to relate, but this? It
was priceless.

Before she could wallow too much, Murf said
briskly, “I agree with you, it would have come out by now. So we’ll
consider it dormant. But I’m glad you told me, because the last
thing we want is seeing such a personal scar ripped open by some
loudmouth sportscaster.”

As though punctuating the end of the
melodrama, he set his plate on a nearby cart, waited for Darcie and
Wyatt to push theirs away, then opened his laptop and pressed a
series of keys. Instantly a complex chart appeared on a monitor on
the opposite wall.

“We’ll get to this in a few minutes,” he
explained. “It’s my version of a peace offering to the Jets, and
I’d like your technical input. But as we know, none of that matters
if we can’t convince them to spring you in the first place.”

“I’m impressed you actually have a strategy
so quickly.”

“It’s been a challenge,” Murf agreed. “The
quid pro quo from the Rustlers was dicey enough. But the real trick
is explaining the why. As in, why are you leaving a team that gives
you your best shot at winning a Super Bowl this year?”

“And you can explain that?” Wyatt asked
ruefully.

“Yep.”

Darcie smiled. “All those hours pacing your
office paid off, apparently.”

He grinned. “The trick is, we need their
goodwill. So it can’t be about
them
. It has to be about
Wyatt.”

Wyatt nodded. “And we can’t mention Butler
as part of my motivation. Or even Luke Stoddard. Correct?”

“Correct. Even though you’re right about
Butler. All glory hound, no work ethic. But yeah, we can’t mention
him. Plus, he’s just a symptom, don’t you think?”

“I’m not following.”

Murf gave him a penetrating stare. “You know
that old saw about doing the same thing over and over again and
expecting a different outcome? I figure that’s how we explain this
to the Jets. Sure, you can take them to the Super Bowl again.
Everyone
says so. But then what? If you do the exact same
things you did last year, and if the Lancers do the same things,
the Lancers win. Of course,” he added mischievously, “it was a
close game, right?”

“Right.”

“So if the Lancers
were
doing
exactly
what they did last year, it could go either way. But
they aren’t. They’re making a pivotal change to an already
successful strategy.”

“The new coach,” Wyatt murmured, as though a
lightbulb had switched on in his head.

“
Exactly
. So unless you’re satisfied
with the conference title every year for the foreseeable future,
you need to shake things up. You can’t do that with the Jets. But
with a younger team that’s in the process of building its identity,
not to mention its roster, you can continue your own growth while
also shaping the system you’re working in. Truth be told, the
Rustlers might be the only team that can offer you that. It might
take a few years to get to the Super Bowl, or even a conference
championship, but at least you’re trying something different.”

“That’s genius,” Wyatt told him bluntly.

“And for good measure, it’s true.”

“Maybe so.” The QB nodded pensively. “I
couldn’t bring myself to re-sign with them even though it made
financial sense. I blamed it on their unwillingness to can Butler,
but you’re right. He’s just a symptom that we were headed for a
repeat of last season.”

“You needed some way to focus your
dissatisfaction. In that sense, your reaction to Luke Stoddard was
a symptom too. Something to re-energize your outlook. Not to
mention broaden your legacy, because if you can help
him,
you’re helping the sport itself.”