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"I usually don't give a fck, but you bother me, and I hate that you do."
"What do you plan to do about it, then?"
"What can I do about it?"
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When a devastating injury threatens the career of Terence Ti...
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The final sound of the buzzer.
The Krakens win.
And the Rangers, well, they lose in their home.
Tragic much?
I want to say I saw this coming, but that'll make me a bad agent.
"Ivy Martins' client loses the game tonight."
"Ivy Martins is not liking the way the game is going, I mean she always looks pissed but tonight she looks worse than she looks on a normal day."
And as expected, the commentators did not fail to acknowledge my presence. There's so much angry yelling from the New York side of the arena and I ignore them as I make my way out of the arena, because I need to breathe. I have to.
4-1
What's the excuse for that? The psychologist in me wants to be gentle, but the trainer in me is annoyed and heavily pissed off. Thank God I didn't male a bet with Nadia. I've always won, in my entire life. Madam Beaufort trained me to embrace perfection and I've always been perfect. Until I entered the sports agency. There's more to life than that high degree of perfection and I almost hate it.
My phone buzzes. "Wrong time." I mutter as I get it out of my purse.
Madam Beaufort. Wonderful. Think of the devil and she beeps your cell.
"Your team lost." She says the moment I answer. Of course she found out that I'm not just an agent, but also a trainer. Is there anything on this earth that she doesn't know?
"I was there, I don't need a play by play from you." I hang up.
Fucking hell. Of course she called, she knows how much she hardwired me not to accept any form of imperfection. Sometimes I envy people who fail and just let go. On my end, whenever I fail, I beat myself up, like right now. I've mentally turned myself into some kind of punching bag.
I make my way towards the locker rooms, I'm thankful I came with a hood. While I've mastered the art of ignoring the press with years of experience, today is not the day. I might end up glaring at someone and that might become a headline for the tabloids.
The head coach of the New York Rangers makes some statements, and thankfully the players are fully dressed and I don't have to bother about full on naked men. Stay professional.
Bennett meets my gaze and he gives me a nod. When the speeches are over, I swear most of the players freeze at the mere sight of me. I give Bennett a look that says "outside" and I walk away. He knows better than to do the opposite.
"See you later fellas." I hear him say as I move forward. As we make our way out in silence, I can see the Krakens from where I stand. Already dressed in their suits, of course. We're not too far from each other and West, the Captain of the Krakens meets my gaze. Next thing I know, the incredible three as the commentators described tonight, make their way towards Bennett and I.
