Page 8 of Her New Billionaire Bosshole (The Billionaire’s Bidding #2)
ELLIOT
B right and early on Monday morning, Skylar and I ride together to the practice facilities.
Despite the traffic, Dallas is actually decent first thing. The sun rises over the horizon, and the man on the radio is chipper, reporting surprisingly fewer accidents than normal.
The air even has the slightest chill to it this morning, which is refreshing compared to the heat. This time, the smoothie from Skylar comes from a local shop, and it manages to have a little more depth than just goop .
All that to say, I’m in a good mood when we arrive and find the representative for Uniquest waiting for us.
He’s a tall man with a bald head and a wide smile, his belly straining against the buttons of his dress shirt. Not who I expected to be here, telling us about the benefits of a beauty brand collaboration.
“Mr. Altman!” he says, dragging out the last syllable. Beyond him, water mists in large arcs over the practice field. “Great to meet you. Heck of a place for a business meeting, don’t you think?”
“Good morning, Randall.” I call him by his last name, give him wide smile, and pull him in to pat him on the back.
I want him to feel the spirit of the fans I felt the other night.
Informal, devoted. That’s why I decided to have this meeting at the practice facility — I want him to see what this sponsorship will do for his company. “Please, call me Elliot.”
“Well, all right, Elliot,” he laughs, following me as I lead him inside. I can’t help but think that at least he can follow that simple instruction, unlike others. “Let’s see what you’ve got for us.”
Inside, Skylar has just finished setting up the meeting room, and is speaking in a low voice with a younger man I assume to be Randall’s assistant.
This meeting room looks like the rest of the facilities here — outdated, worn. There’s nothing I can do about it now but make sure the remodeling starts right on time.
After grabbing a coffee, I chat with Randall, trying to keep him occupied without letting on that Sophie is late. Five minutes after our starting time, I give Skylar a look, and she darts out of the room, returning with a disgruntled-looking Sophie at her side, clearing pulled from her office.
I stand up. “Sophie, I’d like you to meet Reese Randall. He’s here to talk to us about the sponsorship for the team. Randall, I’m sure you’ve read over the information, but Sophie here is a huge part of what makes Dallas special.”
“Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sophie,” Randall says, standing and holding his hand out. Beside me, I can practically feel Sophie screwing her face up.
“You can call me Coach,” she says, giving his hand a firm shake.
To my relief, he lets out a loud, booming laugh, and we all take our seats.
Skylar looks at me nervously, settling into her seat and opening her tablet to take notes.
The young man at the head of the room takes his cue from Randall and clicks a button on his laptop, lighting up the presentation screen with a slide show.
“All right, folks,” Randall says, gesturing toward the screen. “As I’m sure you know, Uniquest Cosmetics is a subdivision within the larger Smith & Smyth company. Our brand is all about the individual — or, what makes them unique.”
The presentation changes from a photo of the brand’s logo to a clean white shelf lined up with various makeup products.
“We’re very excited to partner with the Dallas Bolts.
As a major function of this partnership—” He pauses, waiting for his assistant to move to the next slide.
It shows a rendered image of the team, but something is slightly off.
By the time I realize what it is, Kendall is already stiffening beside me.
Randall goes on, “We’ll expect the players to use the products, demonstrating their effectiveness. We especially think the waterproof formulas will be helpful during games?—”
“I’m sorry,” Sophie laughs, putting her palms flat against the table and leaning into make eye contact with Randall. “Are you implying that the players would wear the makeup during games?”
“Well…” Randall pauses, glancing at his assistant for reassurance, then back to the coach, “yes. Just like how sports drinks sponsors expect the players to drink the product. It’s just a way to show that the players actually back the line.
Our formulas are all very durable and waterproof, smudge proof, you name it.
It’s part of what makes it so great for athletes.
We even have a contract with an Olympic swimmer, which will show?—”
“Absolutely not ,” Sophie is already pushing out of her chair, shaking her head, laughing. “Are you… Is this a joke? You can’t be serious?”
Reese Randall is silent, his fingers folded together on the table. He looks to me, eyebrows raised in shock and question.
“Maybe I’ve misunderstood something here,” he says, carefully, eyes flicking between me and Sophie. “I thought the Bolts were ready for sponsorships, but it seems?—”
“We are taking on sponsorships.” I lean forward, putting on my most charming voice. Maybe it was a bad idea to invite Sophie along to this — I should have known she was going to strike down any advertiser I brought into this room.
Smiling warmly at Reese, I go on, “And I think you’ll find that with my involvement, this is the prime time to strike.
Every company is going to want their products advertised with us, Randall.
Coach here just isn’t on the business side of things.
You understand how it is — she’s just thinking about the game. She just doesn’t?—”
“If you don’t understand why this is a horrible idea,” Sophie says, cutting me off and popping her hip out, her eyes blazing with fury, “I don’t know how to explain it to you. Wearing makeup to the games? Would you want to do that when you’d be sweating? Running around?”
“The waterproof formulas—” Randall starts again, like if she could just understand this one point, she might change her mind. Sophie lets out a growl. If I wasn’t so pissed off, I might be impressed with how she stands her ground.
“Let’s just take a break,” I say, holding my hands up and looking to Randall. “Sorry about this, it seems the coach and I need to get on the same page here.” I shoot her a look that says I won the bet, but she shoots me one back that says I don’t give a flying fuck in space .
“You know what?” Randall is standing from his chair, making a hand gesture to his assistant.
“Maybe right now isn’t the best time. Let’s have our assistants schedule us for another meeting, another time.
I’d love for this to work out, but I can see that there are some…
” He darts a glance in Sophie’s direction, “holdups. On your end.”
“Randall,” I start, but Sophie is pushing through the doors on the other end of the room, and I’m torn between following him or following her.
Instantly, my dad’s voice is in my head: Always follow the money.
Never, in all my time making deals, have I chased someone out of a meeting, and I’m not about to start now. So I let Randall and his assistant go. Instead, I turn toward the person I actually do want to follow.
Coach Sophie Kendall, already halfway back to her office, having completely ruined my deal. And I’m not about to let her off that easily for it.