At 4:00 PM on Thursday, six people waited for me on the 38th floor.
They sat on one side of a glass table.
I sat on the other.
Kaitlyn sat next to me.
She'd taken a personal day to drive me.
Todd Kimbrough was in the middle, in a navy suit.
Club counsel sat on his right with a leather folder.
Garrett sat on his left in a Rebound quarter-zip.
Garrett's lawyer sat next to Garrett.
Rebound's VP of marketing sat at one end.
A paralegal sat at the other end with a laptop.
The window behind them showed all of uptown.
A bowl of mints sat in the middle of the table.
Nobody took one.
"Thank you for coming," club counsel said.
"We'd like to put this behind everyone."
She slid a stapled draft across the glass.
Then a pen.
She read the terms in a pleasant voice.
"Forty thousand dollars."
"A standard nondisclosure."
"You return the sign."
"You give up Saturday's first pitch."
"And you record one sentence on camera."
She read it off the page.
"'I agreed to appear in a Rebound fan segment.'"
"In return, the club lifts the ban."
"Mr. Mabry withdraws his petition."
Garrett's lawyer nodded once.
"And the club puts in a word to CMS."
Todd leaned back.
"One word from the club, and CMS forgets this."
"The offer expires tomorrow at five," counsel said.
Garrett tapped the glass with one finger.
"Take it, Cal."
"Honestly."
"Monday you're unemployed."
Kaitlyn's knee bumped mine under the table.
I didn't look at her.
Todd smiled at me the way he smiled at cameras.
"Garrett told me about your little photo."
"Back on the eleventh."
"A picture of a screen, Callie."
"Nobody's going to care about a picture of a screen."
I picked up the pen.
Forty thousand dollars.
I owed $38,600 in student loans.
I knew the number to the dollar.
My eleven boxes were in Kaitlyn's garage.
Monday at nine, I could lose Room 104.
Monday at two, I could be a stalker on paper.
Twenty-two name tags were waiting in my desk drawer.
I hadn't laminated them yet.
Maybe somebody else would.
Maybe I should sign.
The pen hung over the signature line.
Then my eye dropped to the next page.
EXHIBIT A · RELEASED MATERIALS
It was a list.
Lawyers love a list.
Item 1: Sign, Osprey Studios Print Job 0903-14.
Item 2: Messages between G. Mabry and B. Sorensen dated September 3, 2026.
Item 3: Fan Feature Release, G. Mabry, September 3, 2026 ($7,500 paid September 4).
I read it twice.
Then I set the pen down on the glass.
It made a small click.
"Item 1 has a job number," I said.
"Your print shop's job number."
Todd's smile held.
"It's an inventory tag."
"Item 3 says seventy-five hundred dollars."
I looked at Garrett.
"His petition says no one paid him."
Garrett's lawyer turned his head to look at Garrett.
Garrett looked at the window.
"And Item 2."
I tapped the line.
"Messages dated September 3."
"Garrett says I faked them."
"If my texts are fake, why are they Item 2?"
Nobody answered.
The paralegal stopped typing.
Kaitlyn didn't stay quiet.
"Their own lawyer LISTED it!"
Counsel's pen stopped moving.
The Rebound VP turned a page in her copy.
Then she turned it back.
"It's boilerplate," Todd said.
"We list everything, just to be safe."
"Safe from what?" I asked.
He didn't have a pleasant answer for that.
"Ms. Dunaway," counsel said.
"Do we have an agreement?"
"No."
I slid the pen back across the glass.
I kept the draft.
Counsel reached across the table for it.
Her fingers touched the corner.
I put my hand flat on the page.
"You handed it to me to review."
"I'm reviewing it."
She sat back.
Garrett's lawyer started writing on a legal pad.
He didn't show it to Garrett.
Garrett stood up first.
"This is so unhealthy, Cal."
"For my mental health, I'm done."
He walked out to the elevators.
Kaitlyn and I followed a minute later.
He was still there, jabbing the button.
Todd came out behind us, reading his phone.
The elevator took forever.
Garrett turned around.
"Rebound's couple throws Saturday."
"Not you."
I looked at Todd.
Todd kept reading his phone.
He didn't correct him.
The elevator opened.
Garrett got in alone.
The doors shut on his quarter-zip.
Todd put his phone away.
He held out his hand, palm up.
"The draft stays in the building, Callie."
"The offer's good until five tomorrow."
I folded it once and put it in my tote.
It went in next to the sign.
"No."
"I'm keeping the draft."