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Chapter Two
“You can’t.”
“I am,” I insisted calmly as I watched the man on my laptop screen. “Aiden told me to let you know.”
Trevor gave me a look that said he didn’t even remotely believe me, and I found myself not really giving much of a crap what he thought. While it took a lot for me to dislike someone, Aiden’s manager was one of those people I avoided like the plague whenever possible. Something about him just made me want to abort mission each time we had to interact. At one point, I really tried figuring out what it was about him I didn’t like, and it always came back to the same reasons: he was snobby, but mainly he just gave off massive amounts of asshole-ish vibes.
Leaning forward, Trevor planted his elbows on what I could assume was his desk. He tented his hands and hid his mouth behind them. He exhaled. Then he inhaled.
Maybe, just maybe, he was thinking about all the times he’d been a jerk to me and was regretting it; like all the times he’d chewed me out or yelled at me because Aiden wanted something done that frustrated him. That had been pretty much every week since I’d gotten hired.
But knowing him, that wasn’t the case. To regret something would mean you would have had to care about it at some point to begin with, and Trevor... the only thing he cared about was his paycheck. His body language, and the way he’d spoken to me even back when he’d first interviewed me, made it abundantly clear I didn’t rank very high on his list of priorities.
Me quitting was going to make his life slightly more difficult for a little while, and that he wasn’t a fan of.
Apparently, he was bothered a lot more than Aiden had been the night before when I sucked it up and told him the deep, dark secret I’d been withholding. “I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me” —in hindsight, that had been pretty suck-up of me to say; he hadn’t actually done anything besides pay me, but oh well— “but I’d like for you to find someone to replace me.”
While I’d always known and accepted that we weren’t friends, I guess a small part of me had been foolish enough to think I meant just a little, tiny, microscopic something to him. I’d done a lot for Aiden over the course of the time we’d worked together. I knew I would more than likely miss the familiarity of working for him at least a little bit. Wouldn’t he feel the same way?
That answer to that had been a big, fat nope.
Aiden hadn’t even bothered looking at me after my admission. Instead, his attention had been focused on his bowl when he replied easily, “Let Trevor know.”
And that was that.
Two years. I’d given him two years of my life. Hours and hours. Months at a time away from my loved ones. I’d cared for him on the rare occasions he got sick. I was the one who had stayed with him at the hospital after his injury. I was the person who had picked him up after his surgery, and read up on inflammation and what I could feed him, that would help him heal faster.
When he lost a game, I always tried to make his favorite breakfast the next morning. I’d bought him a birthday present that I may or may not have left on his bed, because I didn’t want to make it awkward. You didn’t remember someone’s birthday and not get him a gift, even if he never thanked you.
What had he given me? On my last birthday, I spent it in the rain at a park in Colorado because he’d been filming a commercial, and wanted me to tag along. I’d eaten di
There had been no begging me to stay—not that I would anyway—or even an “I’m sorry to hear that,” which I’d heard when I’d left every other job before this one.
Nothing. He’d given me nothing. Not even a damn shrug.
It had stung more than it should have. A lot more. On the other hand, I recognized that we weren’t soul mates, but it became even more apparent after that.
It was with that thought, that slight amount of bitterness in my throat at being so dispensable, that I swallowed and focused on my video chat.
“Vanessa, think about what you’re doing,” the manager argued through the camera.
“I have. Look, I’m not even giving you a two-week notice. Just find someone sooner than later. I’ll train them, and then I’m out.”
Trevor tipped his chin up and just stared forward at and through the computer’s camera, the hard glint of the hair product he used catching in the sunlight in his office. “Is this an April fools’ joke?”
“It’s June,” I said carefully. Idiot. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”
His forehead furrowed at the same time his shoulders tensed, as if what I said was finally really sinking in. One eye peeked at me from over his fingers. “Do you want more money?” he had the nerve to ask.
Of course I wanted more money. Who didn’t? I just didn’t want it from Aiden. “No.”
“Tell me what you need.”
“Nothing.”
“I’m trying to work with you here.”
“There’s nothing to work with. There isn’t anything you can offer me that will get me to stay.” That was how dead set I was on not getting wrangled back in to the world of The Wall of Wi
Picking up the glass of water sitting on the kitchen counter next to my tablet, I took a sip and studied him over the top of it. I could do this, damn it. I would do it. I wasn’t going to keep my job just because he was giving me the closest thing to puppy eyes pure evil was capable of.
“What can I do to get you to stay?” Trevor finally asked as he dropped his hands away from his face.
“Nothing.” If a slight bit of loyalty to Aiden and genuine worry had gotten me to stay since I realized I could afford to quit, the night before had cemented me leaving.
I didn’t want to waste any more time than I already had.
Another pained expression took over Trevor’s features. When we’d first met two years ago, he’d only had a couple of gray hairs scattered throughout his head. Now there were more than a couple, and it suddenly made so much sense. If I considered myself a fairy godmother, Trevor must have been seen as a god; a god who needed to make miracles happen out of the most dire of places.
And I wasn’t helping by quitting on who I was sure was one of the most difficult of his clients.
“Did he say something?” he asked suddenly. “Do something?”
I shook my head, not fooled at all by his act. He didn’t care. Before I’d asked him to call me—and he’d insisted we do a video chat instead—I had asked myself whether to tell him why I was quitting or not. It didn’t even take a second to decide. Nah, he didn’t need to know. “There are other things in my life I want to pursue. That’s all.”
“You know he’s stressed out about coming back after surgery. If he’s a little on edge, it’s normal. Ignore him,” Trevor added.
Normal? There were different standards for what ‘normal’ could be considered when dealing with professional athletes, especially athletes like Aiden who breathed and lived for his sport. He took everything personally. He wasn’t some burnout who played because he didn’t have anything else to do, and wanted to make money. Maybe I understood that better than Trevor.
Plus, if either one of us had more firsthand experience with the way Aiden had been since his Achilles tendon rupture, it was me. I’d witnessed it all up close and personal; I also knew how he usually got right before training camp started, and that was right around the corner too, adding on to the things he worried about. Trevor had worked for him longer, but he lived in New York and only visited a few times a year. Aiden only talked to him directly on the phone once a month, if that, since I was his scapegoat.
“I’m sure there’s at least a hundred other people who would love to work for Aiden. I really don’t think you will have a problem finding someone to replace me. Everything will be fine,” I told him smoothly.
Was there at least a thousand other people in the world who would love to work for Aiden Graves? Yes. Minimum.
Would Trevor have a problem finding a new assistant for Aiden? No.
The issue would be finding someone to stay who could deal with the long hours and his prickly personality.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” Trevor had said to me after the workforce agency had sent me his way. “Athletes are demanding. It’s basically part of the job requirement. Will you be able to handle it?”
Back then, I’d been working three jobs, sharing a tiny house with Diana and Rodrigo, and unable to sleep some nights because all I could dream about was the massive student loan debt I was swimming in. I would have done just about anything to get out of that situation, even if it meant dealing with someone who may or may not be a psycho by the way others portrayed him.
While Trevor hadn’t been lying—Aiden wasn’t that bad once you figured out what made him tick—at least he’d given me a warning of what I’d be facing.
A demanding, cranky, perfectionist, workaholic, arrogant, aloof, clean freak of a boss.
No biggie.
Aiden Graves needed an assistant, and I had been lucky enough to get the job.
At that point, I had a plan that worried me to death, and student loans that were giving me an ulcer. I’d thought it over a million times and concluded that working for him, while keeping my own business on the side and trying to grow it at the same time was the best way to move forward in my life, at least for a little while.
The rest was history.
Saving money and working seventy hours a week had all finally paid off. I saved enough to keep me afloat in case my business slowed down, and I had my goals to guide me. When things were tough, it was my aspirations and the hope they brought me, that kept me going.
So even on the days when Aiden had me standing behind him, envisioning myself stabbing him in the back because he wanted me to do something ridiculous, like rewash his sheets because I’d left them in the washer for too long, I always did what he needed. All I had to do was remember my student loans and my plans, and I persevered.
Until now.
“You’re killing me, Vanessa. You’re fucking killing me here,” Trevor literally moaned. Moaned. He usually just bitched and complained.
“It’ll be fine. He doesn’t care that I’m leaving. He probably won’t even notice,” I said, trying to be as understanding as I could and at the same time, not really giving much of a crap that he was sweating bullets.
The grimace on his face quickly dropped, a total act, and got replaced by a glare, making him look more like the manager I’d been forced to get to know, than the one who was attempting to backtrack and be nice after so long. He sniped, “I highly doubt that.”