Midnight Play

by Lisa Marie Perry

  In fact, crumpled napkins, crumbs and half-drunk beverages could be found all around the table.

  Danica checked her wristwatch. Eight sharp. “How early did everyone get here?”

  Lilith quirked an eyebrow. “We all got here on time. Seven-thirty.”

  Whipping out her smartphone, Danica confirmed that Tem’s text message had instructed her to be present at eight for the meeting—not seven-thirty. Why mislead the general manager to arrive a half hour late for what must have been an important discussion?

  “If there are no questions, y’all are free to leave,” Marshall announced.

  Danica’s head snapped up. She’d missed the meeting! It wasn’t savvy for the GM to ever appear out of the loop. “I have a question, sir. What the hell just happened?”

  “We have further details for the GM and HC,” Marshall addressed the room. With a flick of his wrist, he dismissed the others.

  Amazed, Danica watched them go. She stopped Lilith with a tap on her arm. Even her assistant had been given the correct start time. “What did I just walk in on?”

  Lilith’s glance of sympathy was strange. “Boss, I’m sorry. Offense change. Brock Corday’s out as starting QB.”

  To avoid repeating what again, Danica pressed her freshly glossed lips together. She and Kip Claussen remained seated as waitstaff cleaned the tabletop and set out fresh pitchers of water and coffee. A server rolled a cart of pastries to them. Kip grabbed a bear claw, and Danica took two.

  “Danica, you look out of sorts.” Tem, in her warm-toned designer ensemble, looked, of course, the exact opposite of “out of sorts.”

  “You gave me the wrong meeting time. Why didn’t anyone call me?”

  “Your assistant, Lilith, took detailed notes. I asked her to be especially diligent. Marshall?”

  “Brock Corday’s not healthy enough for us to pin the rest of the season on him. We’re making an offer to Dex Harper. I want him and his agent here today. Lilith’s arranging the appointment now.” Marshall turned toward Kip. “If Harper’s ready to work—and I think he will be—I want you to start him on passes this afternoon. Good?”

  “Good.”

  No, not good! Bad. Unbelievable. “Dex is finished with this team. That was made abundantly clear. You gave the order to release him and bring someone else on.”

  “Things change. Adapting is key. Corday’s injury makes him too unpredictable. He’s also too safe outside the pocket, too slow of a reader. This team needs a risk-taker. Dex’s rookie team has been making noise about courting him, but we’re prepared to act. Our offer will get Dex Harper back where he belongs—on this team.”

  And out of Danica’s life in every way but what would be a strictly employer-employee relationship….

  “I told you to always be sensible,” Tem said softly, focusing her gaze on anything but her daughter.

  Marshall excused Kip, and when the coach had left, Marshall turned to her. “Confidentially, we’ll need a statement from both you and Harper, Danica. The personal relationship ends before he signs any papers for our franchise.”

  “Wait—”

  “Don’t insult us by denying that you’re involved with him,” Tem said. “You were very clever to hide your relationship with him in plain sight.”

  “I wasn’t going to deny it. If bringing Dex to this team is a ploy to stop me from being with him, to turn me back around to Marion, it won’t work. Marion’s with someone else now. I’m with someone else.”

  “You’re not ‘with’ Dex Harper. That’s ridiculous. Know what kind of trouble you’d be asking for?”

  “What’s so wrong with Dex and me being together? Is it because he’s white and I’m black?”

  “Of course not. You know we don’t care about that. We care about you.”

  “And I care about Dex.”

  “Here’s what’s wrong with you being with that man. The GM cannot have a sexual relationship with an employee—let alone the damn quarterback!” Marshall went for the breast pocket of his jacket. Antacids. She’d really done it now.

  Shame churned inside Danica. Was this what Charlotte experienced when she and Nate had been found out? Was this what Martha dealt with on a weekly basis, living under their parents’ roof?

  “I love him.”

  Tem stamped her foot. “I cannot imagine you would fall into this trap. Does he know you love him?”

  Love wasn’t a trap, though. Finally, Danica could see that. “I didn’t tell him.”

  “Nor will you. Think of how it would look if the public knew what your so-called friendship was really about. A GM protects the interests of the team, not her sex drive.” Tem sighed, composing herself. “If you love Dex, don’t stand in the way of his career. That man is loyal, driven—just who we need to lead our team.”

  Just who I need in my life. But Tem was right. Dex’s career meant everything to him, and Danica loved him too much to stand in the way.

  *

  Dex was certain there was no deeper hell than not getting a spot on a pro roster…until he got one. Sitting in the Slayers’ conference room—the same room where he’d been fired—with his agent next to him and the Blues across from him, Dex let the details of the offer register.

  He’d be back in his number-eleven uniform, possibly playing next weekend. There would be a formal announcement and press party to show the world that he could shake off being kicked to the curb. And the salary…

  Even Shaw, who dealt with seven-and eight-figure deals on a daily basis, had cleared his throat and said, “Excuse me?”

  Danica sat stoically in her chair, between her parents, answering questions in a crisp tone of voice that couldn’t disguise the hurt hugging her. They both knew that the acquisition would coldly sever their relationship.

  Shaw Bordeaux leaned back in his chair. “Makes sense now. Danica, you were grooming him to get him back in as starting QB. That’s what this ‘cleaning up his reputation’ stunt was about from day one.”

  Dex stared at Danica, who was tapping an ink pen rhythmically against the table. She’d said that firing him had been “just business.” Had befriending him, fixing his reputation and sleeping with him also just been business? That would be one effin’ shady way to take one for the team.

  No, he couldn’t believe that. She wouldn’t give up her body, her heart, for business.

  “That’s not true,” Danica argued. “This franchise’s decision-making process is proprietary, but I will tell you that my involvement with Dex—my friendship with him—was not a business strategy for my own or the Slayers’ gain.”

  “If you sign with us, Dex, we’d like you to be looked at by our physicians and back on the practice field as early as today,” Tem said. “There’s no reason to hold out announcing that the Blue-Eyed Badass is back in Las Vegas.”

  “Shaw. Marshall and Tem. I need a minute with Danica.” Dex rose from his chair, as did the others.

  “We’ll give you five. And only five,” Marshall said.

  When the owners and his agent departed from the room, he walked around to Danica’s side of the table. “I’m not going to take this offer.”

  “What other offer do you have?”

  “There isn’t another.”

  “Then don’t piss on this opportunity. You love football. You missed your mother’s funeral just to take the Slayers through the play-offs. Don’t sacrifice your career for me.”

  In the days following his mother’s death, Dex had regretted not realizing what was important. But he was damn glad that the woman in front of him had shown him how to change. “I want to be with you, without all the hiding and pretending. Yeah, I do love football,” he told her. “But I love you more, Danica.”

  “And I love you,” she insisted in a broken whisper. “I mean that. I love you so much. That’s why I’m telling you this one final time. Take the offer.”

  Suddenly the owners crowded back into the conference room, followed by Shaw.

  Danica’s agitated glance at
her father was met with a cold “We gave you your five minutes. Back to business.”

  A waiter ushered in a bottle of Cristal and a tray of flutes. Danica politely accepted a flute and put as much space between herself and the others as she could without exiting the room.

  “I didn’t officially decide anything,” Dex reminded the group in a growl.

  “A toast to…wise decisions,” Tem Blue suggested, walking over to Danica and raising her glass to her daughter’s. “To being sensible. To the hope that Number Eleven starts next Sunday.”

  *

  “No one should be depressed on a Friday night.”

  Making room for Martha, Danica folded her legs beneath her on the cushiony wicker sofa. They were on the “patio” that seemed more like an outdoor living room with its stone columns, ceiling fans, striking fireplace and all-weather television. The space, designed for entertainment and envy, was nothing short of what she expected her parents to own.

  The housewarming party was an extravagant event. Guests filling up on liquor and barbecue were everywhere—poolside, in the gardens, inside the house on all three floors. Vehicles practically blocked street access, but Danica would worry about that later, once she figured out a way to escape the luxurious cage that was her parents’ home.

  And Martha’s. It was easy to forget that this was also her residence. Probably because she still hadn’t moved her things out of the Bellagio. Marshall and Tem had grown impatient with her and stated that Martha would be responsible for the Bellagio villa’s rental payments unless she cleared out.

  “Who says I’m depressed?” Danica challenged over the cacophony of sports TV, blaring music and conversation.

  “Mike’s Hard Lemonade. That’s your third. Plus, you downed the piña colada I fixed you when you got here. You’ve got me out-boozed.” Her sister scoped out their surroundings, then hopped off the sofa. Her girlish, glittery crochet sweater fell past her underpants-short shorts. “Shake off the edge. C’mon.”

  Danica followed her to the guests swaying and shaking it by the pool.

  “Danni, you’ve seemed sort of unhappy these past few days.”

  “Just a lot of changes to digest.”

  “Def. That TMZ report about Marion seen ‘canoodling’ with that singer he’s working with now. You were obviously relieved about that one, though. Pretty admirable of you to wish him well.” Martha shifted her weight from one high heel to the other. “Then there’s the team. Brock Corday’s out and Dex Harper’s in. I wonder how he’ll do out-of-town on Sunday.”

  “Pop, Ma and Kip are optimistic. As am I.” Danica gave her drink a frown. Even she could hear the note of wistfulness. Maybe it was time for caffeine if she didn’t have the energy to keep the reins tight on her emotions.

  “Could you be any less enthusiastic? I thought you’d be jazzed about having man candy like that at such easy access.”

  “Except it’s a no-access situation, since he’s our quarterback and I’m the GM.”

  The regret in Danica’s voice couldn’t be masked, and the enormity of it hung between the two sisters.

  “I was right, then,” Martha muttered. “I can tell when two people are on fire for each other, and the two of you had lust written all over you when he came to your office that day.”

  “Who did you tell?”

  “No one,” her sister insisted, looking offended. “I tried to convince myself I was wrong, because you’d never risk upsetting Ma and Pop. So it seems that was the thing I was wrong about.”

  “They know. They’re not pleased with me.”

  “Welcome to the We Pissed Off Our Parents Sisterhood,” Martha said dryly.

  Danica contemplated her drink.

  “Too soon for jokes?”

  “What’s funny about losing their high opinion of me and losing Dex?”

  Martha shrugged. “Can’t think of anything, put on the spot like this, but give me some time—”

  “Enough. Please.”

  Martha let up, for a good three seconds. “Let’s jump,” she proposed.

  Danica’s brain tripped over the final scenes of Thelma and Louise. “Jump where?”

  “In the water.” Martha circled a finger at the well-lit pool. “It’s a crazy idea. Just do it.”

  What would it feel like to get an idea and just act on it, without analyzing and finding reasons to play it safe? Danica stared at the water. It wasn’t double Dutch, but… “I’ll jump. But only if you promise me something.”

  Martha took her hard lemonade and passed it off to a server. “Jeez, what?”

  “Take my keys.”

  “Well, if you’re that buzzed, then you shouldn’t be diving into a pool.”

  “No, my house keys, Martha. Marion doesn’t want the house. Neither do I. I don’t want to live there, and you clearly don’t want to live here with Ma and Pop. So please take them, and, please God, fill it with love and babies someday.” Danica hooked an arm around her to hug her. “You need to grow up, sis. The house, and the condition that goes with it, might be the push you need.”

  “A condition? Lay it on me.”

  “Volunteer at Faith House. It’s more than passing out flyers and answering phones, though. Consider it?”

  Martha gave her a curious look, but nodded and grabbed Danica’s hand. They took off running and jumped into the pool, screaming.

  Soaked to the skin and invigorated, Danica resurfaced laughing. She gave Martha a high five. Applause greeted them when they emerged from the pool.

  Marshall threatened to close the bar if anyone else got the nerve to take a dip fully clothed. Then he called for a housekeeper to bring out towels.

  Patting the terry cloth against her wet shirt and jeans, Danica went into the house to inspect the damage to her makeup. The main-floor powder room was occupied. Upstairs, she tried to recall which doors belonged to what rooms. Linen closet. Bedroom. Makeup room.

  Yes, this house included a room devoted to Tem’s meticulous beauty routines.

  Danica opened the door wider. A little bronzer and mascara wouldn’t hurt. She clicked on the lit mirror, then heard murmurs. A man’s baritone and a woman’s whispered response.

  She turned into the hall, peeping into the adjacent room’s open doorway. Nate Franco sat at the foot of the bed, with Charlotte pressed beside him. Their hands were locked, their heads bent.

  “We could elope.”

  “Your family wouldn’t be cool with that, Lottie.”

  “Imagine the wedding, though. Your father and my parents would interfere. Danica would exploit it for Slayers publicity—if Ma and Pop don’t order her to stop the whole thing.” Charlotte zoomed in for a kiss. “I just want to marry you, Nate.”

  Wounded, Danica dropped back from the doorway. Her older sister was engaged, and yet she wouldn’t even share the news with Danica. To her sisters, she was too controlled by the team and their parents to make her own choices.

  Danica did make a choice—a promise, really—as she moved unseen back downstairs without taking the time to repair her water-ruined makeup and rapidly curling hair. A night’s sleep would bring clarity, but she knew she wouldn’t break the promise she’d just made to herself.

  *

  After claiming a win in the Midwest, the Slayers traveled back to Las Vegas to prepare for the first home game with Dex Harper back as quarterback. Danica waited with nervous anticipation for the Thursday-afternoon emergency press conference.

  Not wanting to distract the team during an away game, Danica had kept her decision a secret. It had almost slipped during last Sunday’s second quarter, when their quarterback had been hit hard and trainers rushed the field. There had been no injury, but in the moments that uncertainty polluted the air and Danica had tried to make her way to Dex, her mother had taken her aside.

  Remember your duties to this team and this family, Danica. He should be nothing more to you than a man who can win games for us. The team is a machine, and he’s just a part of it. There’s no place
for…love…in our front office.

  Now Danica waited in the pressroom, with a mic and a glass of iced water in front of her. She was alone. That morning, when she’d sat down with her parents and said, “I’m resigning from the franchise,” she’d hoped they would rationally accept her decision. But Marshall had gotten up in arms and Tem had urged her not to lose sight of what was expected of her.

  “I promised myself that I would stop neglecting my heart,” she’d told them. “In between getting married and then divorced and taking on this career, I lost myself. I can’t be your enforcer in this business anymore. And I’m asking you, as your daughter, to support me when I announce the resignation.”

  In a very professional—clinical—fashion, her parents had called an emergency meeting and named the administration coordinator as interim general manager while they interviewed in-house and outside candidates. The team was a machine, and they’d been able to replace her as easily as one would a defective part.

  But she sat alone as the doors opened to the press. Her announcement was met with a flurry of questions. It came as second nature to work her magic and spin the situation to make it appear as if her resignation was an exciting turning point for the team, yet a reporter’s simple “What does this development mean for you?” shattered her facade.

  Danica looked out over the faces watching her intently. Then she turned, and there were her parents and the head coach standing in the wings. “This means,” she said into the mic, “that I’m free to focus on what and who I care about outside of this franchise. I’m president of a nonprofit organization, and spending time with the people who come to Faith House feels right. I’m also in love. Someone said to me that being in love is the best feeling there is, and I think that’s true.”

  The pressroom all but imploded then. Camera flashes and “Who are you in love with?” questions pelted Danica, but she’d said all she would say. As she exited the stage, Kip and her parents shook her hand. At least Marshall and Tem didn’t snub her in front of a room filled with media.