Game Changer by Kelly Jamieson Page 0,84

Chrissake. Listen. I have news.”

I pull in a breath, preparing myself. “Okay, lay it on me.”

“They’re offering five years.”

I straighten. “Yeah?”

“AAV 3.8 million.”

I drop my fork. I close my eyes. We were hoping for four million. That’s pretty close. “What’s the breakdown?”

“First year, three point five, second year, four mil.” He continues to outline the rest of the contract.

My heart is hammering. All the tension in my muscles releases and I nearly fall off the stool. “Okay.”

“Let’s get together and go over all the details. Can you meet now?”

“Sure. I’m just eating lunch.”

“Where are you?”

I tell him.

“Okay, not what I had in mind. Meet me at Maxime’s.”

I guess a place like that has a little more privacy for business discussions. I haven’t even eaten my bowl, but I can bring it with me.

I’m a freakin’ millionaire, but I don’t want to waste my ten-dollar lunch. I laugh out loud as I pack it up and exit the restaurant. I jump into my SUV and drive to the place Paul suggested.

He’s already there with a bunch of papers in front of him. He stands and shakes my hand, giving me a big grin. “Congratulations.”

“Fuck.” I grip his hand. “Not signed yet, right?”

“I think it’s a good offer.”

The money and the length of the contract are important, but there are a lot of other things that go into it—whether it’s a one-way or two-way contract, bonuses, buyouts, movement clauses, restricted activity clauses, the payment schedule, ticket/travel/housing/vehicle allowances and obligations like media, autograph and promotional appearances.

It takes us a good while to go through everything. Paul knew what I wanted, so there isn’t anything I have an issue with. I have questions on a few things, which he explains.

In the end, I’m satisfied.

“Okay.” I sit back in my chair. I managed to eat a steak salad while we reviewed things. “Let’s do it.”

“Great.” He smiles. “If we can get this signed, you can join training camp. Provided you pass the physical.”

“I’ll pass,” I vow. “I’ve been working my ass off, waiting for this day.”

When I leave the restaurant, I’m surprisingly calm. This is fantastic news and I should be jumping up and clicking my heels. It’s fair money. I’d like to make ten million dollars a year, but that’s not realistic for me. But I knew I was worth more than three.

I want to tell Molly.

I’m driving home and I want to slam on the brakes, turn around and find her.

I don’t even know how to find her. I know she lives in Andersonville, but I don’t know her address. I’ve never been there. It’s late afternoon and she’s probably done teaching.

I should tell my parents first. That’s what I should do.

I stop at a store and pick up beer, because nothing says celebration more than a good Shock Top. When I’m home, I sit down on my couch with my phone. I want to tell my teammates, but I should wait until everything is signed and the team can announce it.

But I have to tell Molly.

I send her a quick text message. Good news. We worked out a deal. Going to sign the contract tomorrow.

Her response comes right away. Oh, that’s so good! I’m so happy for you. Congratulations!

Thanks.

I stare at my phone and the message thread for a few minutes, smiling. Then I sigh.

I call Dad first, then Mom. I swear them both to secrecy until it’s made public. They’re both happy and relieved, full of congratulations.

Then I sit in my living room with my beer, all by myself.

I look around the room. I take in the spectacular view out the floor-to-ceiling windows. The place is dead quiet. I’m celebrating but…why do I feel so empty?

This is what I’ve wanted all year. We got it done before the start of the regular season. Why am I not happier?

24

Molly

The last place I want to go is the Chicago Aces Fan Festival. I’d rather go to the running of the bulls in Pamplona. Okay, maybe not.

But how can I say no to my two little nephews who I adore? I’m looking after them this weekend because my brother Travis and his wife Erin have gone to New York. It’s a business trip for Travis, and Erin tagged along so they could spend the weekend there, and they won’t be back until Sunday night. So I have two little ankle-biters who loooove hockey begging me to take them to the Fan Fest. They know I know some of the players, but they don’t get