It occurred to Randy to wonder if he was having a panic attack, or maybe even a heart attack. He closed his eyes and forced air into his lungs with a strangled wheeze.
"I told him we weren't interested in going down that road." The words came to him through a hazy tunnel, slamming him in the chest. Randy took another deep breath, his lungs filling just a little easier, and opened his eyes. He was afraid of the answer, but he had to ask.
"What did he say?"
Montgomery said nothing for a long minute, the time wrapping around Randy like bands of steel, squeezing. Then the man blew out a heavy breath. "We came to an agreement of sorts—provided you meet certain conditions. One of those conditions is successful completion of an anger management class."
Randy heard the words but couldn't quite comprehend them, not through the buzz of relief filling his head. Then their meaning cut through the relief and he gripped the edge of the chair.
"Anger management?" He choked the words out, forcing them through his tight throat. Montgomery nodded then searched through a small pile of papers on his desk. He picked up a small white scrap and leaned across the desk, handing the business card to Randy. He took it with numb fingers, not bothering to look down at it.
"I've taken the liberty of scheduling your first appointment. Be there tomorrow at ten in the morning."
"But—"
"You were arrested for disturbing the peace and assault. Arrested. There are no buts. This isn't a guaranteed thing, Michaels. You will do this, or you will not be playing. Is that understood?"
Montgomery's steely voice left no room for argument and Randy nodded. "What else?"
"In addition to the anger management, you are not to be seen in any bar. Anywhere. At all, for any reason. It also goes without saying that you stay healthy and that you play harder and better than you've ever played before."
Randy nodded but didn't say anything. What could he say? Besides the anger management class—which he thought was taking things to an extreme—everything else was common sense and something he could easily do. He had to. There was too much at risk.
His agent leaned back in his chair and studied Randy with a cool look, his gaze so steady that Randy almost wanted to squirm. He let out another deep breath and shook his head.
"We had this discussion a few months ago, Randy. We need to have it again. I want you to think about what you might want to do after this year. I'm good at what I do. Damn good. But I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't let you know right now that I think the chances of getting an extension after this year are pretty slim. I want you to think about that, think about your other options once this season is over."
Any relief Randy may have felt in the last few minutes was destroyed by those simple words. He clenched his jaw but said nothing. What could he say? Everything that came to mind disappeared as soon as the memory of Val, sitting handcuffed in the back of a police car, came to mind. And no matter what excuse he tried to use, the simple fact was: there was no excuse. It had been his fault, nobody else's. He alone had been responsible. He had known better, known what was at stake this coming season.
But he had let his carelessness and his temper get the better of him anyway, and now he was going to have to pay the price.
He inhaled deeply, held the breath in his lungs until he thought they'd burst, then let it out slowly. He didn't say anything, just nodded and stood, then walked out of the office without another word.
Chapter Nineteen
The normal sounds of business filled the kitchen: clattering of pans and dishes, the sizzling of the grill and scraping of spatulas, calls for this dish or that one. An occasional taunt between the wait staff and the kitchen staff. Normal, daily sounds.
Alyssa heard none of it. Instead, her eyes focused on the man standing just inside the kitchen. His large frame took up most of the doorway, his body silhouetted by the stretching rays of the setting sun coming through the open door. Nobody else seemed to notice him. Or, if they did, they paid him little attention. Alyssa couldn't understand why, not when every one of her own senses was so attuned to him.
That, more than anything else, should tell her that she was overreacting, that she was too drawn to him.
She gave herself a mental shake and closed the distance to the door, hating that she had to look up at him, hating that her pulse skipped a few dangerous beats and that the lightest sheen of sweat broke out on her palms.
"You can't keep coming in this way, Randy."
"Yeah, I know. I just thought..." His voice trailed off as he stepped further into the kitchen and closed the door behind him. His gaze darted around the controlled chaos taking place behind her. Was it her imagination, or did he look nervous? Probably her imagination, since she doubted Randy Michaels ever felt nervous about anything. Never mind that he should be nervous, after what had happened the other night.
No, not nervous. He should be ashamed. Mortified. Embarrassed to even show up here. Alyssa still couldn't believe what had happened. But she doubted that the entire thing was more than just a blip of inconvenience on his radar.
She stepped to the side, out of everyone's way, and folded her arms in front of her. The stance was supposed to convey impatience and aloofness, but part of her was afraid it probably looked like she was putting up a shield. She was. That didn't mean she wanted him to know that.
"What do you want, Randy?"
He stepped closer to her, a move that made her uncomfortable even though she knew he was merely moving out of the way, just like she had done. His gaze darted around the kitchen once more before settling on hers. Her breath caught and she nearly choked, then quickly tried to hide it. Randy looked...well, he looked awful. There was no other word for it.
Dark stubble covered his chin, and smudges lined the sensitive skin under his eyes. His face was taut, his normally full lips pulled tight, the slash of the scar across his eye a stark white. Shadows lurked in his hazel eyes, turning them a muddy brown instead of their normal vibrant color.
Instinct made her want to reach for him, to place her hand on his arm and give him a reassuring squeeze. Better yet, she wanted to put her arms around him and pull him in for a reassuring hug and tell him everything was going to be alright.
Which was utterly ridiculous. She tightened her arms and actually dug her nails into her skin to stop from acting on the ridiculous urge.
"Is Val here? I need to talk to her."
Alyssa clenched her jaw for a brief second, then forced herself to relax it before breaking a tooth. "No. We told her to go home, get some rest. She's pushing herself too hard and after what happened the other night, she needs a break."
Randy's head snapped back, just the briefest motion, like someone was taking a swing at him. It would serve him right, after what he had done. More shadows filled his eyes, and he looked around again, almost like he was searching for something. Or like he was lost, and didn't know how to find his way.
Stop it. Just stop it.
Alyssa absolutely would not let herself think of him in those terms. He was not lost. And he certainly didn't need help finding his way. Randy Michaels was not a social project, and now was not the time to entertain any misplaced notions of becoming a fixer. She wasn't a fixer. Why the hell would she suddenly feel that urge, especially for Randy?
The man didn't need fixing. What he needed was a cold dose of reality so he could learn that not everyone had as easy a time of it as he did.
But he didn't move, wouldn't even look at her. Instead, his head tilted forward, his gaze resting at his feet. He looked dejected. Uncertain.
Alyssa sighed, the deep breath loud enough to be heard above the surrounding chaos. She was going to regret this, she just knew it.
Before she could change her mind, she reached out and grabbed one of his arms. But instead of giving him a reassuring squeeze, she tightened her grip and all but dragged him back to the small room that served as her office.
One of these days, she might actually have time to
clean and organize it.
She motioned for him to sit, then closed the door and stumbled through the growing stacks of files and samples and uniform cast-offs to reach her desk. The chair squeaked when she sat in it, and she had to steady herself with one hand on the desk before the chair decided it would stay in place instead of toppling over.
"So where's Val? I need to see her."
"I told you, we sent her home. She needs the break."
"I stopped by her apartment, she wasn't there."
Probably because she didn't want to talk to you. Alyssa didn't say the words out loud though. She wasn't sure why, because there was no doubt Randy needed to hear them, needed to realize that he couldn't just show up and suddenly have things work out.
But she didn't know what else to say. She only knew that, from the forlorn look on Randy's face, she had to say something. Before she could question what she was doing, she reached across the desk and grabbed the phone, quickly punching in Val's number.
She answered on the second ring, her voice light as usual, classical music playing in the background. Alyssa turned to the side, hoping Randy couldn't hear the noise coming through the phone.
"Hey Val. Randy's worried about you."
"Good, he should be."
"Yeah. Um, he stopped by your place to check on you but said you weren't home."
"Of course I'm home. Where else would I be? I didn't answer because I didn't feel like dealing with him and throwing up at the same time."
Alyssa bit back the smile that wanted to curl her lips and instead cleared her throat. "Yeah, I know. But, he's worried and I wanted to let him know you were fine."
"Oh my God, is the bonehead there right now? Does he look worried? Please tell me he looks worried. And miserable. Miserable would work, too."
"Yes, he is."
"Good. You need to milk this for all you can. Lay the biggest guilt trip ever on him. It would do him good."
"Val, I'm not—"
"Let me talk to her." Randy reached across the desk and yanked the phone from her hand, not even bothering to look at her when he grabbed it. Alyssa only hoped Val stopped talking before Randy could hear her and realize what was going on.
Because yes, they had sent Val home. But only because she had some kind of stomach virus. As far as Val was concerned, everything that had happened the other night was now classified as one big adventure she could someday tell her offspring—if she ever had any. But that was now. Val hadn't been laughing right after it happened.
Which meant, of course, that Randy had to suffer for it. Alyssa was only too happy to play along with Val, because Randy wasn't exactly on her list of people she wanted to be nice to, not after what else he had done that night.
"Val, listen, I—" Randy broke off and looked over at her, and Alyssa realized he probably wanted some privacy. She held onto the desk before pushing herself up from the chair, then stepped around it. But Randy grabbed her wrist when she reached for the door, his hand warm and strong as he tugged. He looked up at her, his shadowed eyes almost pleading as he ran his hand down past her wrist. To her surprise, his fingers threaded through hers and squeezed, just the tiniest bit. He cleared his throat and spoke into the phone.
"Listen, I'm sorry. About the other night." He was speaking into the phone, but looking at Alyssa. And she couldn't help but feel that he was talking to her as much as he was talking to his sister. "I was a complete ass. I know that's not an excuse, and I know there's nothing I can do to make up for it. I just wanted to let you know I was sorry."
Oh damn. Damn, damn, damn. Alyssa swallowed and blinked, afraid too much emotion would show in her eyes. As far as apologies went, there wasn't much to it. But the look in his eyes, and the sincerity in his voice, more than made up for the plain words.
No. She didn't want this. She didn't want to forgive him, didn't want to see him as a normal human being, as a man with faults and fears and regrets. And she certainly didn't want those confused feelings and emotions racing through her again, not when she had nearly convinced herself that she had been imagining them.
"What?" Randy finally looked away from her, his brows lowered in a frown. The shadows in his eyes darkened a bit more, and his lips pressed more tightly together. Alyssa had no idea what Val was saying, but whatever it was brought color to Randy's face—a vivid red that spread up his neck and fanned across his cheeks. His hand tightened on the phone as he took a deep breath. "I know but...No. Of course not."
Alyssa tugged on her hand, trying to pull away, but Randy tightened his fingers around hers and held her in place. He spared her a brief glance then looked away.
"Val, I don't think that's going to work...Yes...Yes, I know." There was a long pause during which the color on Randy's face got even darker. "I know, I'm an ass...Yes, a complete and total douchebag...Yeah, I get it...Yes, she's right here. Hold on."
He pulled the phone away from his ear and handed it to her. Alyssa noticed that his jaw was clenched, so tightly that the muscle twitched. She swallowed and grabbed the phone, then tried to tug her hand from his grip again. To her surprise, he released her.
"I'm here."
"Is he steaming?"
Alyssa looked over at Randy, at his red face and clenched jaw and deep frown. She cleared her throat. "Yeah, you could say that."
"Good. He was getting entirely too mushy. I couldn't handle it any longer. Now listen, you really need to keep it going. Don't let him off easy."
"For what?"
"For that stunt he pulled with you. He needs to pay for that, too. I still have no idea what his problem was. Is. Whatever."
"Val, I don't think—"
"Exactly. I know you, so don't think." There was a short pause, and Val's voice was softer, almost gentler, when she spoke again. "He likes you, Alyssa. A lot. I don't know why he hasn't told you that yet, but I know it. And I think you two are really good together."
"Val—"
"So." Val's voice was once more normal. "Give him a hard time, but not too hard."
"I'm not sure—"
"Oh shit. I need to throw up again. Call me later and let me know what happened."
Alyssa pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it for a few seconds, then replaced it in the charger. Awkward silence filled the small space and she suddenly had no idea what to do. She certainly had no idea what to say.
"Is Val okay?"
"Hm? Oh, yeah. She had to go throw up."
"Throw up?" The color drained from Randy's face. "Oh God, I've got her so upset, she's throwing up? What the hell..." His voice trailed off and he lowered his head, his hands coming up to cover his face.
Alyssa watched him, sympathy flaring deep inside her at the hopelessness and desperation that rolled off him like huge, giant waves. And the urge to take him in her arms and reassure him was back, so strong she nearly gave in.
She hurried around the desk and sat in the chair, hard enough that it nearly dumped her out of it before she remembered to grab the edge of the desk. No matter how strong the urge was to reassure him, she couldn't. She wouldn't give in.
Because no matter what Val said, there was no "them". They weren't good for each other. They weren't even together. Alyssa didn't think they ever really were. No, no thinking. Val was right about that, at least. Alyssa couldn't think about it. If she did, she might second-guess herself. Again. She had to go with what her mind was telling her, nothing else.
And her mind was telling her that there was nothing there. It was as simple as that.
She took a deep breath and looked across the desk. And that quickly, her resolve melted away. Randy was still slumped forward in the chair, his hands over his face, his breathing slow and harsh.
"I, um...well, for what it's worth, I think Val is going to be okay, you know? I think she just needs a little time." Randy mumbled something, the words harsh but muted behind his hands. Alyssa hesitated, the leaned across the desk. "I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."
He finally straightened
and lowered his hands, revealing a pale face. The shadows in his eyes were darker now, and Alyssa couldn't shake the thought that while he might be here physically, sitting across from her, his mind was somewhere else, his eyes seeing something different than the cluttered office.
"I completely fucked up, Alyssa. Everything. They arrested Val, and it was all my fault. Arrested her!"
"Well, not really. I mean, they let her go—"
"You didn't see her. In the back of the car, scared and crying. I close my eyes and see her face every time, and the only thing I can think of is, it's all my fault."
"Randy, I—"
"Do you know what happens when you get arrested?" He looked at her, actually looked, like he was really seeing her instead of whatever images were replaying in his mind. A chill crept over her at the darkness in his eyes, and she realized she didn't want to know. Whatever he was going to tell her, she didn't want to know.
"No." She shook her head to reiterate her answer, but it didn't matter because that quick, he was somewhere else again. His eyes focused on a spot behind her, but she knew he wasn't really seeing anything.
"They take you to Central Booking for processing. They take everything from you and strip you down. Then they line you up and search you. A full cavity search." There was no emotion in his voice, the words flat, without inflection of any kind. Another chill went through her but she was afraid to move, afraid to say anything. "After they search you, they fingerprint you and take your picture. Then you're placed in a cell with a bunch of thugs and criminals. And you wait. You just...wait."
Alyssa finally looked away and rubbed her hands along her arms, trying to warm the pebbled flesh. She knew he wasn't merely reciting a list—he was remembering. Telling her with minimal words and no emotion exactly what had happened the other night. That chilled her more than anything else he might have said or done.
Body Check Page 14
