Can't Let Go. Gena Showalter

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Can't Let Go - Gena Showalter Original Heartbreakers

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But discipline remained a key factor to Amir’s path to becoming a pro.

      J.D. laced his fingers together. He gave the younger man time to absorb what he’d said. The agent rose from his chair, moved around the coffee table, and sank onto the soft leather of the sofa next to Amir. “There’s still time to finish out this year in the positive column. Just don’t screw up. If you need help, I can get you a tutor or help you myself. But those grades must improve. Period. And as soon as possible. I suggest you go make appointments with your professors, talk with them about extra credit if you need to and find out if there’s anything you can do to improve your grades. Do what needs to be done.”

      Rolling the edge of the jersey between his fingers, Amir thrust out his bottom lip and pouted. “College is supposed to be fun.”

      J.D. tapped a finger against his lips. “Not really. College involves learning and getting an education. If you plan to make it in pro ball, you need to understand how things work.”

      “What you’re saying is that I can’t have any fun.”

      “Not at all. Get your school work done first, then hang out with your friends. Until you get your grades on track, stop the carousing with your buddies and leave the ladies alone. Give it a rest until your grades are in order.” J.D. waved a hand back and forth between them. “Have I made myself clear?”

      Silence followed his question.

      “Are we on the same page on this issue?” J.D. asked a second time.

      Tension filtered into every corner of the room.

      “I need an answer before you go.”

      Amir’s lips pursed. “Yeah.”

      J.D. slapped his hand against the table. It sounded like an exploding bomb in the quiet of the room. He reached under the table and slipped his feet into his Air Force One sneakers. “Good.” He rose and plucked his keys from the end table. “I’ve got to be going. Let me walk you out.”

      Chapter 7

      The constant bouncing of a ball drew Shae’s attention from the stack of resumes to the basketball court next door. She stretched and glanced out the window, watching the rowdy bunch.

      Her office had been painted in a soothing lilac and the floor covered with a rich lavender carpet. A used metal desk with a Formica surface sat in the center of the room. A gray cloth swivel chair and a black steel four-drawer file cabinet occupied much of the free space. The lack of space didn’t matter because Shae suspected that most of her time would be spent in the exam rooms rather than in her office.

      Glancing at the white wall clock, she noted the time. It was almost five and J.D. would be pulling up to the building any minute. Shae dropped the pile of typed pages, her yearly budget information and supply order into her briefcase before snapping it closed. Looking forward to seeing J.D., her heart rate accelerated. She retrieved her suit jacket from the back of her chair, slipped her arms into the sleeves and prepared to leave the office for the day. She shut and locked her office door and headed for the front of the building. On her way out, Shae halted at the entrance to the medical director’s office. “Good night, Dr. Reid.”

      With a pencil stuck behind his left ear, the doctor was deeply focused on the information on his computer screen. She cleared her throat. He glanced her way with a distracted expression on his face, blinking several times before focusing on her. “Good night. See you tomorrow.”

      “Yes, you will.” She turned toward the lobby.

      “By the way,” he said. “My name is Kenyatta. Please use it.”

      “And my name is Shae.”

      “Fair enough.” Smiling back at her, he nodded. “I meant to come down to your office and see how things were going. I got caught up in work and everything flew out of my head. How did today go for you? Did you find all the things that you needed?”

      “I made a great start today. Set up interviews for tomorrow and Friday.” Shae placed her briefcase on the floor near her leg. “I’m going to decide on hiring over the weekend and then make offers Monday. That will give the applicants time to give their current employers two-week notices.”

      “Sounds good. By the way, where are you staying?” He removed the pencil from behind his ear and reached for a sheet of scratch paper.

      “Downtown Marriott.”

      “Nice. You’re not planning to stay there indefinitely, are you?”

      Leaning against the doorframe, she answered, “No. After we get the staffing issues resolved, I’m going to look for a permanent address. Why? Did you have any suggestions? Do you know of a place?”

      “Sorry, no.” Kenyatta’s face lit up as an idea formulated in his mind. He lifted a finger. “But,” he paused for emphasis before continuing, “there are some great real estate agents in this area that will do the leg work for you. While you’re handling our business, they’ll be handling yours.”

      “Sounds good. Do you have a name?” Shae asked.

      “Not with me. My sister used one when she sold her house. I’ll talk to her this evening and get back to you tomorrow.”

      “Fair enough.”

      “How are you getting home?” Kenyatta asked.

      “My friend is picking me up.” She glanced at her watch, then reached for her briefcase. “He’s probably waiting. I better get going. See you Thursday morning.”

      “Good night.”

      There was an extra spring in her step as she hurried down the hall and out the front door. She halted outside the building. Instead of J.D.’s car idling at the curb, she found an empty space.

      For a moment, Shae’s confusion and disappointment overwhelmed her. Those feelings transported her back to her childhood and the times when her father promised to pick her up from school and then got so wrapped up in his work the he forgot all about her.

      Shae shook her head, beating down the anxieties surging through her. Her feelings spiked before dropping back to a manageable level. J.D. should be here, she thought, glancing at the LCD screen on the cell phone. A small groan escaped from her lips. No messages. He was running a little late or traffic problems caused his delay. If he didn’t show up in fifteen minutes, she’d go back into the building and order a taxi.

      It’s rush hour and he probably got caught in traffic, she thought nervously. No point in returning to the building. I’ll wait here for him.

      Deciding on a plan eased her anxiety and she felt more confident about waiting for J.D. Shae intended to embrace this opportunity and observe the community near the clinic. She shrugged and strolled to a wooden bench near a bus stop.

      It was a typical inner-city neighborhood with lots of kids and music, and teenagers strolling up and down the streets. A variety of homes graced the area. Colonial, bungalows and two-family flats all shared space on the same block. Many of the structures were in need of repair, some major and some minor.

      Placing her briefcase on the bench beside her, Shae decided to use

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