Book #3 in the Medley Series
ZEKE MITCHELL:
With the World Championship in swimming approaching and our medley team in better condition than ever, nothing can stop us.
Expect, as the season starts, an old injury rears its ugly head again, potential...
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"Oy, what are you doing?" Maya protests as I rise from the couch, her legs falling from their place in my lap.
I wave my phone in her general direction to indicate that I have a call.
"Do you want me to pause it?" she asks, lifting the remote. We're watching the first Twilight movie, which I was subjected to an ungodly amount as a teenager.
"No need," I assure her. "This won't take long."
I step outside on the spacious patio. My apartment occupies the entire penthouse floor and gives me an amazing view. I breathe in the crisp fall air as I glance at my phone again. The name Lorraine flashes over the screen, making my stomach knot.
I've been avoiding her calls lately, instead resorting to e-mails and half-hearted texts, and it's beginning to piss her off. I know I won't get away with it much longer, which is fair, considering she is my agent.
I accept the call, plastering a smile on my face because I once read that you can hear it in a person's voice. "Hi, Mom."
"Mitch," Lorraine Mitchell's voice comes through clear and clipped. "This isn't a social call."
They never are.
"How's Dad?" I ask as if I hadn't heard her.
"Your father is fine," she says, though I'm sure she's barely spoken to him for days now. "We need to go over your schedule for the next week."
I suppress a sigh, but this woman raised me—or at least she was in the general vicinity as I grew up—and she susses out such blatant signs of disrespect with uncanny accuracy.
"I'm sorry," she drawls. "Am I boring you? You do know how important this next year is, don't you? You could pay just a bit more attention."
"Yes, Lorraine."
She likes to keep things separate and create clear lines between when we're mother and son and when she's in business mode.
Which is most of the time.
Lorraine starts to prattle off my sponsorship meetings, photo shoots for the next week, and the meet-and-greet session at the local charity I fund. She mentions which interviews she's been setting up, walking me through the questions she's agreed to with the journalists, all of which revolve around Worlds.
I keep up, humming in the right places. I don't bother to write it down. She'll be setting it all up in my calendar anyway.
"Since you don't have practice today, I've forwarded you a workout itinerary with a little light cardio."
I bristle. My training is wholly removed from her. It's never been under her jurisdiction, but that doesn't stop her from involving herself.
I turn around and watch Maya sprawled out on my couch through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She's completely occupied by the movie, gnawing on her bottom lip as she does when she's focused.
