by Leigh, T. K.
“I don’t remember off the top of my head.” I reach into my pocket, retrieving my phone. After scrolling through my emails, I find the one with the attached PDF of the petition. Opening the file, I look at the heading. “Hollis and Galloway.”
Daniel blinks repeatedly. “Are you sure about that?”
“Of course.” I show him the screen. “Says it right there, doesn’t it? I may have been knocked on the head a few times, but I can still read,” I joke.
“Huh.” He stares off into the distance, not laughing. He’s usually an easy-going guy, except in negotiations. He likes to be everyone’s best friend, as long as you give him what he wants. He’s a typical agent, able to smile and schmooze even the most standoffish person. “You’d think there’d be some sort of conflict of interest. There’s certainly the appearance of one.”
I scrunch my brows. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“Graham Hollis,” he urges, his tone indicating I should know what he’s talking about.
“Sorry.” I blink, still just as confused, the name not ringing any bells. “Am I supposed to know who that is, other than someone who’s a partner at the firm Carla hired?”
“Yeah, you should. You’ve been dating Skylar Jensen, correct?”
My curiosity only increases with this line of questioning, a ball of dread forming in the pit of my stomach. “I’m not so sure I’d classify it as dating, but yeah. We were seeing each other off and on over the past several months. I broke things off a few weeks ago.”
“Graham Hollis is her step-brother. He’s an agent, as well as a sports and entertainment lawyer. In the past few years, he’s branched out into a little family law, mainly representing their clients in divorces since these things can be more complicated than a typical divorce.”
My jaw grows slack as I process this piece of information, trying to figure out what it means. A sinking feeling settles in my core, heat washing over my face, my mind reeling.
“I’m surprised you didn’t know that,” he continues when I remain silent. “Hell, that’s how she got that gig with the Celtics. It certainly wasn’t because she’s a talented dancer. Rumor is there’s a little Cruel Intentions vibe going on between the two of them. It’s a bit off-putting, but based on what I’ve observed, Graham will do anything his step-sister asks of him. And I do mean anything.”
I rewind to the last time I spoke to Skylar, recalling who showed up at my office just a few minutes after she made her dramatic departure when I told her I wasn’t interest in a serious relationship, using my kids as an excuse. My stomach churns, bile rising in my throat, a sour taste in my mouth.
“She… She’s behind this.”
“Who?”
“Skylar.” I swallow hard. “She came to my office, saying she wanted to take our relationship to the next level, one I had absolutely no interest in. Instead of leaving it at that, I said my kids were my priority, that as long as I was still responsible for them I wouldn’t date her…or anyone, for that matter.”
I bury my head in my hands, wondering how I didn’t put two and two together. At first, I thought the universe was merely playing a cruel joke on me. Now I wonder if there’s more to it than that. If this is all the result of two scorned women getting their revenge.
Slowly lifting my eyes back to his, I continue. “No more than a couple seconds after Skylar stormed out, Carla stopped by, asking for visitation with the girls. Hell!” I slam my fist on the side table, my temper rising. “They probably passed each other in the damn hallway!”
“So you think…?”
“It makes sense, doesn’t it?” I jump to my feet, pacing, tugging on my hair. “Every time Skylar brought up taking things to the next level, I always told her I wasn’t interested in a relationship, that I couldn’t put my girls through that. What if…” I stop in my tracks, trying to make sense of this in my scrambled mind. “What if the two of them came up with this plan together? Carla gets time with the girls, and somewhere in Skylar’s fucked-up mind, she thinks it paves her way to having a relationship with me.”
My blood boiling more with every word I speak, I grit my jaw, pacing once more. It’s just a theory, but it couldn’t have been simply a coincidence that they both paid me a visit on the same exact day, at almost the same exact time.
In an instant, everything’s changed. I’m no longer thinking about anything else. Not of Alice’s recommendation to come to an agreement with Carla. Not of the fact that in just a few days, I’ll be able to announce to the world that I’m in love with Brooklyn. All of that seems insignificant to getting to the truth, to learning if my gut is right. That I brought this on myself.
“I need to talk to Skylar.” I glance at the time, seeing it’s a quarter to seven, cursing my luck. “Shit. There’s a game tonight.” I look at the screen showing the pre-game show, spying one of the tall basketball players whose photo hangs on Daniel’s wall of fame. Inhaling a sharp breath, I whip my eyes toward him, hope building inside me. “Some of your clients play for the Celtics, right?”
“Yes,” he replies guardedly, his brow wrinkled in confusion. Then realization crosses his face. He blows out a breath, resigned. “Fine. I’ll get you into the game. You’d better not start throwing punches around the dancers, though,” he warns. “Some of those girls are my clients, too, and they have modeling contracts that will be canceled in the event of a broken nose.”
“I won’t. As much as she may deserve it, I’d never hit a woman.”
Daniel stands, buttoning his suit jacket. “If Skylar’s behind this, she definitely deserves it.”
Chapter Eighteen
Drew
There’s a frenzied atmosphere around the Garden as Daniel’s chauffeur pulls in front of it, dropping us off in the VIP area. Sometimes it’s good to know people with connections, like Daniel. Name the sport and he can get you amazing seats with just a simple phone call, even moments before the game begins.
“You know this will raise some eyebrows, right?” he says as he ushers me through the roped off area, handing me a lanyard with COURT on the pass. He hangs his around his neck. I do the same.
Since I retired, I’ve been here dozens of times, but the Garden has a different vibe during basketball games. Yes, there are still thousands of fans wearing jerseys, sloshing beer everywhere as they cheer for their team, sometimes to the point of getting into a physical altercation with a fan who’s supporting the opposing team, but it’s a different feeling when the arena is covered in polished maple instead of ice. There’s no chill in the air, no sound of the blades cutting into ice, no lights flashing as adrenaline rushes through you when they’re about to announce your name to screams and cheers.
“What do you mean?”
“It’s public knowledge Bruins management has been after you to coach for years. When people see you sitting courtside with your agent, they’re going to talk. What are you going to tell them?”
“What I always do. That it’s none of their damn business,” I bark, my tone harsher than I intended. It’s taking all my control not to storm into the green room and seek out Skylar right now. If Daniel weren’t here with me, I probably would do just that, despite the fact I wouldn’t have been able to get in without him. He talked a bit of sense and reason into me during the drive down here, advised me to sit in the stands and smile at Skylar when she looks my way during her routines, let her think I’ve changed my mind. If she sees the anger inside, her defenses will kick in. This isn’t my normal style, but it might work. Daniel’s made a career out of always getting exactly what he wants, all because of his ability to read people.
“And this, my friend, is why I take the percentage I do from you. The damage control I used to have to do for you is the reason I have gray hair.” He laughs, gesturing to two seats in the row right behind where the team sits.
“I’ve been a walk in the park the past several years, yet you’re still getting your cut. Let’s call it even.”
“Deal.” He grins, noddi
ng and smiling at a few people sitting around us. Everyone always seems to know Daniel. I’ve never gone anywhere without at least one person approaching him. When I first became a household name, I loved when people would clamber up to me for an autograph. It quickly got old, especially when I couldn’t even have a drink alone to decompress after a rough game. I don’t know how Daniel still deals with it. I suppose it’s part of the job. Then again, he has the personality to always be the center of attention. I don’t.
The instant we take our seats, music blares, the cheers and screams deafening as the dancers run onto the court. I tense when I spot Skylar in the front row of their formation, smiling, pretending she doesn’t have a care in the world, acting as if she’s not responsible for tearing my family apart. My jaw hardens as I glower at her.
Daniel nudges my side and I whip my head around. When he lifts his brows as a reminder, I relax my posture, plastering a fake smile on my face. At first, I wonder if Skylar will even notice me in the crowd. She has no reason to search for me. I’m quickly proven wrong when her blue eyes land on mine. She’s surprised, perhaps confused. Then she recovers, a seductive smirk building on her plump, red lips, her beckoning gaze remaining locked with mine as she goes through her routine.
During our “relationship”, I never watched her perform. I told her repeatedly I had no interest in attending one of her games, considering basketball isn’t my sport. But as I watch her, I see what Daniel inferred to earlier. She’s not that great, her lack of talent obvious when I look at the other dancers. I wonder how many people she had to sleep with to get picked for the squad. I wonder how many people her brother slept with to get her this job.
Thankfully, the display of gyrating hips and shaking butts soon ends and the announcers go through the process of introducing the players. With each name, the crowd cheers a little louder, a little more enthusiastically. It brings back memories of my time on the ice, the way the screams and cheers shook the rafters when my name was announced.
“You miss it, don’t you?” Daniel turns to me.
“Miss what?” I glance at him, doing my best to hide the longing on my face. I look at my feet, knowing all too well that just beneath this flooring is the ice I miss so much, the ice I’d give anything to skate on again. But it’ll never happen, not unless I want to risk a brain injury I’ll never recover from.
“Thousands of strangers cheering for you.”
I shrug dismissively, looking back at the court, but not paying attention to what’s happening. “It’s overrated. People forget about you the instant someone new comes along.”
“That’s not true. Look around you.” He gestures to the crowd sitting close to us. I meet several pairs of curious eyes, people whispering to each other. “These are basketball fans, yet the majority of them know who you are. You think people forgot, but they haven’t. Sure, there are some players who are forgotten the instant they disappear from the game, but not you. You’re different. You left your mark on that sport. Hell, on this city. You never noticed it, but I did. You should have seen the crowd gathered outside MGH and along the promenade by the Charles when you were injured. They were out there for days, Andrew. Days. I get that having to walk away from the sport hurt you. I’ve seen it before. But the sport, the league, was everything to you.” He lowers his passionate voice, his tone becoming more pleading. He’s not just saying this so he’ll make a buck. He has nothing to gain if I take this offer. He’s saying it because, in his heart, he knows I need this. “It can be that way again.”
I open my mouth, about to repeat the same argument I gave him earlier.
He holds up a hand. “I know what you’re going to say. You need to put your girls first. Maybe there’s a way to balance your family and your career.”
“I don’t see how, not with what Carla’s trying to do. They want an answer before the end of this season so they can announce it.”
“Remember what I told you during our first meeting?”
“You said a lot of things during our first meeting. I couldn’t get you to shut up,” I joke.
“True. No one can.” He winks before his expression turns serious once more. “But I told you the same thing I tell all my clients. Everything is negotiable. Management wants you to coach so badly, they’re offering you more than any other coach has ever made. In the entire league. I’m pretty sure they’ll agree to an extension if you need more time to get your answers.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know…”
“Remember the rush of skating on that ice and hearing people cheering your name? You can have that again. You can do what you love again. You don’t have to waste your talent on coaching college, as admirable as that is. You belong in the big leagues. We all know it. When are you going to realize it?”
I meet Daniel’s eyes. “When I know I won’t lose my girls. Until then…”
He gestures to where Skylar’s standing at the edge of the court, smiling at me. She sticks her chest out a little more, pouting her lips, batting her eyelashes. The only thing it does for me is increase my anger.
“Hopefully, you’ll soon have information that will prove Carla’s anything but a fit mother, especially if Skylar admits they concocted this scheme together.” He leans toward me. “If I were you, I’d set your phone to record the audio when you talk to her.”
“Thank you, counselor.” I wink.
“That’s why you pay me the big bucks. To look out for your best interests.”
* * *
The game seems to drag on as I watch what feels like a ping-pong match. I suppose the same could be said about hockey, but at least we give our fans a little more entertainment value with the occasional fights that break out.
About halfway through the second quarter, Daniel nudges me, nodding toward the dancers. Most of them file off the court, presumably to get ready for their halftime routine. Skylar doesn’t follow them. Instead, she heads toward me, smirking.
“Well, if it isn’t Andrew Brinks,” she coos, placing her hands on her hips. The mere sound of her voice grates on my nerves, but instead of acting like that’s the case, I grin, licking my lips. I need to get her alone so we can talk. I can’t do it here, not with all these people around.
“Hey, Sky,” I reply coolly. “Daniel Acosta, this is Skylar Jennings. Skylar, Daniel Acosta.”
Daniel extends his hand toward her, smiling congenially. “Pleasure to meet you.” Always the charmer, he brings her hand up to his mouth, kissing her skin.
“You, too. I’ve heard great things about you. I guess you could say you and my step-brother are competitors.”
“Really?” he responds, pretending he doesn’t know anything. “And who’s that?”
“Graham Hollis.”
“Ah, yes. A very formidable negotiator from what I understand.”
“That he is.” She holds his gaze for a moment. I can almost sense her undressing Daniel with her eyes. It doesn’t matter that he’s married with kids. That’s never stopped her before.
“Do you have a minute to talk?” I say. She whips her eyes to mine, treating me to the same once-over she gave Daniel.
“You finally came to a game just to talk? You know how the phone works, don’t you?”
“Of course. But a few of my circumstances have changed, and I didn’t want to wait another second to see you,” I lie. Just saying those words cuts me open. But if it’s necessary in order to protect my girls, I’ll do anything it takes.
“Circumstances have changed?”
I rake my eyes over her, pretending I crave her like I once did. Or at least like my dick once did. “They certainly have. And I believe you may benefit from this.”
A sly smile crawling on her lips, she reaches for my hand, pulling me from my chair. “Well then, let’s talk.”
Leering at her, I give off every indication I want to do something other than talk. I have to hand it to Daniel. He was right. If I had gone off on her the second she approached, she would have denied everythin
g. So far, his method is working like a charm. I hope his next piece of advice does, as well, although the idea of what I’m about to do makes my skin crawl.
She leads me onto the court, skirting the out-of-bounds area, heading toward the corridor leading to the locker rooms. People come and go, but at least there’s some semblance of privacy. After turning down another long hallway, she pulls me into one of the catering suites. It’s empty, since all the VIPs are courtside.
Once we’re alone, she turns to me, everything about her predatory. Remembering Daniel’s advice to capture the audio, I pull out my phone. The instant I do, my heart drops to the pit of my stomach, my screen filled with text message and voicemail alerts from Brooklyn. I look at the time. 8:15. I completely forgot I was supposed to meet her over an hour ago. Once I learned Skylar may be involved with what Carla’s trying to do, my focus was on one thing and one thing only — vindication.
“What is it?” Skylar coos.
I snap back to the present. As much as I need to call Brooklyn to smooth things over, to explain why I didn’t show up at the beach when I asked her to meet me there, I can’t, not with Skylar standing less than a foot in front of me, analyzing me. Yes, I could have gone straight to Carla with my theory, but she’d never admit to working with Skylar. But Skylar might…especially if I get her in the right mood. I pray Brooklyn will understand. How could she not? She knows I’ll do anything for those girls, including this.
I quickly swipe through my screen, hiding it from Skylar as I start the voice recorder, then shove it back into my pocket.
“Nothing.” I curve my lips into a smile, inching toward Skylar, my eyes heated, carnal, riddled with forced desire. “Just a text from Daniel reminding me to use a rubber.”
She smirks, her eyes lighting up. “So tell me, Andrew…” She tilts her mouth toward mine.
“Yes?”
