Talk Hockey to Me (Bears Hockey #3) - Kelly Jamieson Page 0,19
lot of people they can turn to. I’m someone they can turn to.”
I nod, taking in her words.
“Also, as an agent, I don’t only negotiate contracts. I also look for marketing opportunities. You don’t have a wife and kids, but that’s something else I keep in mind when I’m making deals for players—their family, their commitment to the community.”
I nod. I like everything I’m hearing from her. But then, I was sold on her before she even sat down at the table. “How long have you been in New York?”
“Just over a year.”
“D’you like it here?”
“I love it. It’s busy and noisy and hectic, but exhilarating. I feel like I’m in the center of the world. And since my clients are spread out over the continent, that’s a good thing.”
“Yeah. I like it too. I mean, I live in New Jersey, but it’s so close. I have a great apartment there.”
“What are your plans for the summer? Going home to Calgary?”
“Yeah. At some point. I needed to deal with this first.”
“Of course. How’s your family?”
“They’re good.” She met my parents when they visited me at Bayard College. My little sister Arianna had been obsessed with Kate because she played college hockey. “Arianna’s at Bayard now.”
“Oh, no way! That’s amazing!”
Her happiness unfurls something warm in my chest. “Yeah. She just finished her junior year.”
“Playing hockey, I assume?”
“Of course.” I grin. “When I tell her you’re my agent now, she’ll go nuts.”
“We haven’t agreed yet, remember? Don’t jump the gun. What’s she doing for the summer?”
“She’s back in Calgary. She’s got a summer job as a camp counselor.”
“Fantastic.”
“I’ll probably go to Tofino for a while, too. Do some surfing. I love it there.”
“Right. I’m sure it’s beautiful.” She bites her lip and looks at me directly. “How’ve you been with your PTSD?”
Trust her to come right out and ask about it. Things are changing with respect to mental health, but a lot of people are still uncomfortable talking about it. I exhale slowly. “I was doing great until this happened with Vern.”
“Oh no.” Her forehead creases. “I’m sorry.”
“I guess it’s the uncertainty, not knowing what’s happening with him. Also a new contract and where I’ll play, and then suddenly not having an agent.”
She touches her fingertips to her lips.
“But I’m dealing with it. I don’t want you signing me because you feel sorry for me.”
She drops her hand and rolls her eyes. “As if. I’m a businesswoman, Hunter.”
“Right.”
“And look at you.” She waves a hand. “You’re a professional hockey player in the NHL. You had your doubts…but you did it.”
My chest warms. “Yeah. I did.” Big thanks to her.
“So.” She’s finished her lunch and pushes the plate to the side, leaning forward. “You need an agent.”
“Yep. Like I mentioned on the phone, Vern’s not going to be working for a while. If ever.” I grimace. “And I’m a UFA as of June thirtieth.”
She nods.
I know I don’t have to explain things to her. I’ve never questioned her hockey knowledge, or her knowledge about the business of hockey.
“There are fifteen guys on the team with finished contracts. They’re going to sign Crusher and Alfie as soon as they can. They’re not going to sign me again.”
“You don’t know that.”
I shake my head. “I’m being realistic. They won’t have enough cap space left to sign me for what I want.” I lean forward. “I’ve proven myself the last four years. I want more money and a longer contract term. They’ve been giving me one-year terms since I signed with them. I want more than that.”
She nods thoughtfully. “I agree.”
My eyebrows lift.
She hitches one slim shoulder. “I did my research before meeting today.”
Satisfaction spreads through my chest. Yeah. I knew she’d do that. And she agrees with me.
“Have you considered any other agents?” she asks.
“I have.” I pause. “But you were the first one I called.”
“Oh.”
“Yesterday I talked to a couple of guys after I phoned you. I didn’t get the feeling from them they think I deserve much more money than I’ve gotten the last couple of years.”
“That’s bullshit.”
I blink. She keeps her face expressionless even as she utters the expletive. She’s good.
“You finished the season third in the league in hits last season. You set a team franchise record for most hits in a season. You’re a shot-blocking machine—eighty-five last season.”
I grin. “Yeah.”
“Also, you upped your offensive game with a career high in goals, assists and points.” She reels off the numbers from memory.