I am the manager of a major basketball player, Eric York. I managed his entire life. Even in high school, it was me running his show and him being the star, me falling in the background. I didn't care, though. I liked it the way it was—peaceful. And when it was just the two of us, without the world, everything made sense. I am Liam Saxe. Eric and I played basketball as kids together, but he got taller, and I did not. I watched from the sidelines as he progressed, and with it, so did my love for him. It started as admiration but evolved into something more, something heavier that I couldn't ignore anymore. I'd fallen. I wanted to keep close, so when we hit college Eric and I entered sports, him training as the athlete, and me as his manager. Leaving college with him on a national team and me as his manager was the biggest accomplishment we'd both ever achieved. It was a beautiful success.

He started getting lots of traction, moving as time went on to more popular teams, getting brand deals, affording to get his family luxury owning his own house and cars, and buying the house next door for me so we could keep close. There was no need for me to drive my own car, as I was his chauffeur so he just gave me one of his cars. He was generous, spending the money he earned on his loved ones, even me his best friend and manager. Choosing me as his manager when many others tried to snatch him up as quickly as possible with their fancy deals, which in the end won't benefit him at all. He still trusted me and chose me.

And, on nights like this when his team won, and all he wanted to do was celebrate and get drunk, who was I to say no? He'd go to the best bar, get the VIP, drink out the entire bar, and then have me drive him home. And the moment we get inside it's skin on skin, lips on lips, hands pushing and kneading, longing and moaning, sunset to sunrise, and he never is going to remember, because I leave no evidence. I come back the next morning, like nothing had ever happened, help him treat his hangover, and scold him for getting so drunk.

"You've got a photoshoot with Nike around 2 pm, so hop to it."

"Can't we set back?" He yawned and sat up. His dark skin glistened in the sun, his tattoos sparking waves of desire in me. The tired groggy raspy voice made me sink ever so further into my lust for him.

"This was the setback," I groan and pick a designer shirt from his closet and throw it at his face. "Come on, breakfast time. Go shower, you smell like shit and booze."

Impossible, I cleaned him last night so he didn't smell like sex the next morning. Leave no trace.

---

"Are you kidding?" I laugh. "You begged us for this shoot, which I was able to squeeze in last minute, and you don't even have the right size?"

"We did 2 weeks ago, but one of the newbies messed up and to-"

"I don't want to hear excuses. You rescheduled and now you don't even have the proper product," I run my hand through my hair in frustration. I look to Eric who eyes the products. "What's your thought process?"

"I could showcase something different, or in a different size. It's just shoes, it's not the end of the world, just a slight inconvenience," he shrugged, then placed his hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. I look up at him, the entire 10-inch difference between us. Him being 6'6. "It is what it is, let's try to get the best of it."

"Thank you, you're very generous," the spokesman tried.

"Alright, what else are we putting him in?"

They wheel in a cart with various expensive clothing, different shoes and joggers, sweatshirts, and watch bands.

"These are our more luxurious items in the season drop," a woman stated.

Eric starts flipping through, and I see his eyes cringe a little. I grab the clothing. It's not his style at all. It's got black crowns on a gold background, it feels cheap but the price tag must be through the roof.

"Anything else? This isn't exactly his style, it's all to gaudy for him."

The lady nods and snaps her fingers to another who brings in a cart. "These are also part of our drop."

His eyes instantly catch a jacket. It's a simple black and white zip-up, with a small blue Nike logo on the chest. I grab that and set it aside.

"Simplistic is more his style," I tell them as we both flip through, approving of the items to be in the shoot. "These are also cheaper. Imagine this, people that grew up like us, not having money but still wanting things their idols wore, this could be affordable for their parents or even them to buy if they work for it. More sales too, not just from the rich that buy the expensive shiny things just because it's got a big price tag."

The woman nods, the spokesman stays silent. I instruct them to use the second cart, then sit back and let them take over the photo shoot.

Eric always seemed uninterested in this aspect of being a superstar athlete. All he wanted to do was play, but I've convinced him to do some brand deals here and there or be the company face of a brand like Nike every once in a while. It's how we both get paid, and it's good for public view. I know he doesn't care about public view though. His eye is always on the ball, the net, the court.

It only took about 40 minutes for the photos to get taken, and for us to talk about release dates and payment before we were released to have free time.

"How's the hangover?" I ask, poking his head.

"I could use some coffee," he yawned then pulled open the door to get in the passenger. "Had a strange dream, didn't sleep well."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." I shut the door for him and walked around the back of the car, having a silent heart attack about what the dream could've been. But I laid off and simply got into the car.

"Let's get some coffee, you can tell me about it later."

He nodded and closed his eyes, slightly stretching out his legs. His chair is all the way pushed back so he can fit, I'm sometimes jealous, then I remember all the times he's hit his head or been uncomfortably on flights and busses, and I lose that sense of jealousy.

"We've got nothing else planned for today, so let's get some coffee and get you home. You start training against tomorrow, so take today to rest."

"Actually, I think thinking about visiting the old neighborhood, playing ball with the kids down there, visiting Ma. She'd love to see you too."

"Yeah, I'm okay with that. Coffee first."

"Coffee first"