40
COOPER
As soon as I left the suite, I knew who I needed to call. There was only one person in the literary business who was widely known and could get s**t done … Shelby Dawson, a.k.a. Paige Monroe, the well-known journalist. Before I injured my shoulder, she had interviewed me for a ten page spread in the illustrious Physique Sports and Fitness Magazine.
I didn’t want to call her on a Sunday, but I had no choice. Scrolling through my contacts, I finally found her number and dialed it, taking a seat on a secluded bench out in the courtyard of the hotel.
“Hello,” she answered.
“Shelby, hey it’s Cooper Davis. How are you?”
“Well, I’ll be damned. I’m doing great, how are you? Did Bryan call you or something? I told him I was going to get in touch with you tomorrow.”
“Uh … no, he did
