The Wife Win

Marek

I used to love being out on road trips for away games. It was fun and exhilarating to go to different cities, explore the cultures there, eat the foods, immerse myself in the atmosphere.

Now that I’m older, though, I find it exhausting and hard work. It’s only what comes after the road trip that I look forward to and love about my job. The process of strategizing and finding the right fits to build a championship team.

Recruiting new rookies and identifying the team’s trades are like playing a game of chess. It requires experience and the ability to visualize the next move. Recognizing problems before I’m backed into a corner and finding solutions to exit if I am.

While I trust my head coach, Leo and my head scout, Noah, for their collective knowledge on the players, I also rely on my intuitive nature, along with our team stats guy for his logical approach to the equative aspect of finding talent. I like the task of meeting with each prospective rookie to find out if their personality will be a good fit with our existing team and the core values of our organization.

I do not promote grandstanders or guys who think they are the only star shining on the team. That’s bullshit. There is no I in Team, as they say.

It also holds true with my staff and my own fallibility. I may be the organization’s leader but I’m only as good as those I employ. Without each person and their involvement in our efforts, our franchise wouldn’t be what it is today.

Which is why I conferred with Glen about inviting Harper into our personal space. It was, of course, after I blindsided him with my risky and impromptu decision, but I did want his advice on how to skirt around potential questions that might end up in off-limits territory.

Although, that may not be an issue. I get the sense that Harper herself is a very private person. She didn’t so much as flinch when I set the conditions of her exclusive. She didn’t seem overly concerned about the no personal questions mandate.

That doesn’t mean I didn’t dig into Harper’s background. I wanted to know exactly what kind of sports journalist I’m dealing with. Call me once bitten, twice shy. We will be spending an inordinate amount of time together over the next few weeks, so I figure I’m doing my due diligence learning about who Harper Conrad is.

The first thing I’m shocked to learn is her age. Harper is twenty-eight, nearly a decade younger than I am. I knew she was younger but didn’t expect it to be such a wide age gap. Harper has a depth behind her eyes, and she carries herself in a manner that only comes from experience. She has a maturity about her that makes her an old soul.

Perhaps that’s due to the circumstances surrounding her father’s death or the subsequent loss of their family farm. That must have been a devastating and life-altering situation for Harper and her family. Whether she realizes it or not, Harper doesn’t do a great job in concealing her pain. It skims the surface just as plainly as if it were written on her face.

Is that what draws me to her? The pain I’ve buried and tried hiding in my heart seeks out hers?

I think about this and laugh at myself and how ridiculous I sound as my driver shuttles me from our private hangar near the Seattle airport back to the offices where I’ll be meeting with Harper in less than an hour. Vivian offered to give Harper the tour of the facilities while I got settled back in my office, but I told her I was more than capable of handling it on my own.

It could just simply be an attraction that I’ll need to tamp down and avoid for the next two weeks while we work together.

“Welcome back, Mr. Talbert,” Viv says cheerfully, standing from her chair as I stride into my offices. “I have everything set for your meetings this afternoon. You have messages to return that I’ve left on your desk. Your emails are sorted by priority. And…”

Vivian stops abruptly and I curiously snap my gaze to look at her. Her blonde curls are pulled in a tight bun, accentuating her pale face which is drawn in a frown.

“What is it, Vivian?”

Vivian bends to the side and looks over my shoulder toward my office as my own eyes follow her. My office lights are on, but the blinds are drawn so I can’t see anything except the light.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Talbert. I tried to stop her from entering, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

I sigh, the exhaustion now hitting me with the weight of wet concrete. Vivian doesn’t need to tell me who she’s referring to. I already know. I’d had a very unproductive conversation with Jasmine while I was on my trip, calling her one night to discuss the details of her book and to remind her of our divorce decree.

The divorce paperwork clearly stated things were to remain amicable and should either party discuss publicly the events leading up to the divorce, that party could be liable for defamation and a lawsuit.

Reaching out a hand, I pat Vivian’s arm in a kind gesture. “It’s okay, Vivian. You did what you could, and I appreciate it. Hold my calls for the next ten minutes, but let me know the moment Miss Conrad arrives.”

“Will do. Thank you.” Her relief is palpable, and Vivian returns to her desk with a smile, as I do my best to put one back on. It’s the fake smile I reserve for tough negotiations, dismissing staff, and dealing with my ex-wife.

“Jasmine, what a surprise to see you back in Seattle. To what do I owe this pleasure? I thought we discussed what we needed to in our recent phone call.”

My ex shifts in her seat and stands, her glossy black hair swaying with the motion, the scent of her favorite French perfume I used to buy and have imported for her now turning my insides.

She greets me with her manicured fingers gripping my shoulders as she bends forward and gives me the European greeting with two air kisses on each cheek. I marvel at how fake she’s become since living in L.A.

“Hello, Marek. You’re looking tired.”

I give her a mocking gasp, turning to set my bag down on the desk and removing my suit jacket to hang on the pedestal coat rack. Then I sit down to face her.

“As you well know, I’ve been on the road for two weeks on our scouting trips. It’s tiring work.”