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He stroked his jaw. “Football season is over in, what, less than three months? And that’s if you make the playoffs.”
“We’ll make it,” I said.
He smirked. “I like your confidence. Okay, how about you’re my back up during football season. And then when it’s over, you go on the regular rotation.”
“One fight a month after the season is over?”
“And the job’s yours.”
“I need a minimum of ten hours a week. Twelve dollars an hour.” That would be nearly five hundred dollars a month. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
“Ten dollars an hour, but I can probably find twelve to fifteen hours a week.”
“Done.”
“Welcome to the team, kid. Speak to Jodie about ordering you a couple of branded tank tops and getting you set up with a roster. Something tells me the local kids will all want to learn from the infamous Phoenix Wilder.” He winked, and a chill ran down my spine.
Although I guessed if all else failed—if Albany U decided not to waste their time with a guy like me—I could always follow in Bryson’s footsteps.
There was a desperate fucking thought.
“When do I start?”
“No time like the present.” He pressed his palms against the desk and stood.
“Right now?”
“Unless you have other plans?”
I’d wanted to try to see Harleigh. Her handful of text messages this afternoon had been brief. But Nate had reassured me more than once that she was okay.
Cranky but okay.
“No, no plans.”
“Excellent. Throw your shit in my locker and I’ll give you the grand tour.”
“I’ll be one minute,” I said, digging my cell out of my pocket. As I headed for the locker at the back of Bryson’s office, I quickly texted Harleigh.
Me: Something came up, but I’ll call you later, okay? I love you, B. Always. xo
“Good to go?” Bryson asked, a hint of impatience coating his words.
“Yeah.” I zipped up my bag and threw it into the bottom of the locker and followed him into the hall, and into my new job.
