by Cathryn Fox
“Sorry if I interrupted, go right ahead.” She gave them a smile along with her apology. The lab team felt more like a close-knit family than a group of workers. She was invariably greeted with warmth from this dedicated group. When she saw wan smiles accompanied by silence today, she knew something was wrong. Even Dr. Oki’s smile was sad.
“It’s okay, Rox, I was finished anyway.” The group began to break up and only murmured their hellos to Roxanne.
“It looks like I got here just in time. You guys look like you could use some cheering up. On second thought, maybe you could all use a good stiff drink.” She frowned as they passed by her with their shoulders drooped and feet shuffling, not meeting her eyes. There was not a single lively response among them. She pushed forward toward Dr. Oki who sat on a lab stool in front of one of the many tables covered with test tubes and beakers filled with unknown liquids. Sitting on the stool made him taller than if he’d been standing on the floor, Roxanne thought.
“What’s wrong? Must be something drastic.” She frowned, thinking of what it could possibly be. Please don’t let it be one of the children, she thought to herself. She struggled not to let her fear show through. She steeled herself for the possibility, but she sensed this was somehow different.
Dr. Oki told her. “We lost our NIH funding for next fiscal year. They gave us zero dollars for our grant requests.” He paused.
She could only begin to register her disbelief at the news. She couldn’t speak and he continued.
“But they approve wholeheartedly of all our projects. It wouldn’t be too much of a problem, as I understand it from talking to some administrators, if it wasn’t for the construction project for the new wing going over budget. Apparently it’s putting a strain on cash flow for clinical operations already. The building is already using up whatever money we could have used from the general fund. As of June first, we’re flat broke.”
She felt shocked, then horrified, and at last, indignant. Dr. Oki looked resigned.
“How could they do this to you? You are the best research team in the country! You get published every month in major medical journals. You save lives!” She only paused a moment to breathe.
“Take it easy, Roxy. We’ll submit a revised proposal of course. But there are other research units out there and we’ve gotten more than our share of grant money in recent years. We’ll get our grant or find other money—eventually.” He didn’t sound convinced. She certainly wasn’t.
“What about the children, Doc? And what about this ridiculous building they’re constructing? It’s supposed to be a research wing isn’t it? It’s ironic that we’re spending all this money to construct a building for research and by the time it’s completed the research department won’t have the funding to use it,” Roxanne said. She couldn’t hold in the force of her anger.
Dr. Oki had mastered the emotional detachment necessary in his line of work, but she couldn’t do it so easily. Not ever since she had seen the faces of the children in the terminal ward when she first started out years ago. She hadn’t been able to bring herself to go back and witness such pain for a long time afterward.
“Look, I know you want to help, right along side of the rest of the lab, even though I know it’s hard on you sometimes. Like now when we have these setbacks. But there’s no use trying to soften the blow now. And I admire you for it. But for now we’re cutting back on all projects and cutting down on staff. We’ve had to cancel therapy for all of the children that started in the burn program since September. We’ll have to look into relocating them elsewhere.” He stopped.
She remained standing with her back to him.
“No.” She turned and begged him with her eyes. “Not those kids, Doc. You can’t do this to them.”
“You know I have no choice.” He took a step toward her, but she stepped back.
“God, I wish I had all Don’s money now! I would pay for them myself.”
“Even if you did, we’d still need a long term solution. But I’m working on it.” He paused. “If I could buy six months it would be helpful, I admit. I understand a big part of the fiscal crisis is tied to this bank note for construction that’s coming due in May.”
“Maybe I don’t have Don’s millions to donate personally, but I’m a top-notch fund-raiser after all. I’ll set up a special fund,” she insisted.
“Roxanne, it’ll never work. It’s too much money to raise in such a short period of time on top of all the other fund-raising…”
“Doc, I haven’t been in this business all these years for nothing. If there’s one thing I’ve gotten out of it, it’s contacts. We’ll do it.” She stared at him without blinking, without smiling, until he finally spoke.
“Okay. Just tell me what I can do,” he said.
She hugged him. “Don’t worry about a thing, Doc. I got a million ideas.” She bit her lip and thought about it.
“Good. I hope you have about twelve million of them.”
“You think that’s what it will take?” She held her breath when she asked.
“The NIH grant request was for twelve million.”
She blew out a long whistle. She paced the small area between the lab tables. Finally she stopped.
“Doc, forget that lunch I was going to buy you. I have a lot of things to do right now. The first thing is to write a check to the Dr. Oki Research Fund for say, ten thousand dollars.” She beamed at him before she turned and headed for the door. Dr. Oki stood there, wide mouthed and speechless. She didn’t have that kind of money, but she knew where she could get it. Roxanne blew him a kiss over her shoulder as she left the lab room. She wanted to be his princess on her shining white horse. It was time to ride off on her crusade.
Thoughts of money and where to get it consumed her as she proceeded on to the development office to set the wheels in motion for the new project. As she marched down the hall, Roxanne wondered if she’d been too hasty in promising a ten thousand dollar check after all. Now she realized she’d have to sell another piece of jewelry. But there was no doubt in her mind that she could carry it off. At least she had her TV job back.
“I don’t know, Roxy. That’s asking an awful lot. We usually only do two of these charity promotions a year and it takes time and planning. This would be very short notice even if I did agree to do it.”
She heard the apprehension in Mark Baines’s voice even more than his words, even through her cell phone. She knew she’d be more persuasive in person though, so Roxanne didn’t let it bother her. Stretching her long legs out in front of her, she sat back in the chair facing the fireplace in her bedroom. She had called Mark in his Chicago office as soon as she got home that evening.
“Just for one week. All I ask is that you think about it.” She only needed him to leave a crack in the door, and she knew she could convince Mark to let her into the lucrative fund-raising potential of his coffee shop chain. He was vice president in charge of corporate giving.
“How about if we discuss it when we get together in a couple of days? I’ll be flying into Boston in the morning. I’ve been promised tickets for the Celtics season opening game and dinner with my choice of companion while I’m in town.”
She could hear the smile in Mark’s voice. Roxanne laughed. She was always his choice for dinner companion when he was in Boston, ever since they had started working together on the Mercy Hospital House project years back. They’d come a long way since then on the ongoing project, but Mark hadn’t made any headway in his progress with Roxanne.
She wasn’t interested in a romantic relationship with him. But he made it obvious he was very interested in her. It was becoming difficult to keep things professional with him without offending him.
“I’ll join you—but it’s strictly business, remember. This fund is important. You have to promise to hear me out.” She held her breath for his response.
“Done.”
She ended the call with an uneasy feeling that he’d been too easy. Chewing on her bottom lip, she
tried not to worry about what Barry might think. But she had to see Mark. This was too important a deal. She would have to make sure that both Barry and Mark understood it was business only for Mark. If only the image of Barry’s blazing blue competitive eyes didn’t haunt her so.
“And action!” The director yelled and the take board clacked in front of her face as they came back from the first commercial break after the intro.
“Welcome back to Interesting People and our live interview with Celtics superstar Barry Dennis.” Roxanne turned to Barry and tightened her grip on the notes on her lap. To hell with this stuff, she thought. This was her chance to take matters into her own hands. He was smiling politely at her, but she could see he had his game face in place.
If it was a game he wanted, then she would give it to him all right. She didn’t know what his game was yet, with this live interview deal, but he would come out of here knowing he was playing with no lightweight.
“Your fabulous and illustrious career as a superstar basketball player has been well documented. You are discussed by experts as the ultimate dominant professional athlete, the best of the best, eclipsing all sports, very much admired. What is it that makes you so special?”
He gave her a look that said she ought to know. The intimate suggestion in his eyes made her think of their nights together. The clenching heat between her legs spread until she felt sure her face was red, but not from embarrassment. While she forced her poise back in place, he spoke.
“My father devoted himself to training me to pursue excellence in the game. No compromises. I’m devoted to being the best in basketball. In every choice I make, basketball comes first. For some people it’s hard to choose and they make compromises on their priorities. For me it’s automatic.”
“Aren’t you afraid you’re missing something?”
“Everyone is missing something. You make choices about what you want to miss in life.” He had that shark-like, take-no-prisoners game face on and aimed at her. She resisted the automatic impulse to shudder. She could swear he was talking about more than basketball and decided he’d make a riveting preacher—if he chose to.
“You’ve been criticized about your well-publicized short-lived marriage and about your distant relationship with your young daughter. Are the critics right? Have you put your career’s success ahead of a stable family life?”
“Yes,” he said without flinching.
She didn’t pause a breath before continuing. “That’s not all your critics contend. Recently you attended two charitable events for Children’s Mercy Hospital. Aside from that, however, my research indicates very sparse contributions of your time to charitable causes. Could recent accusations claiming you turn down most solicitations of your time on behalf of worthy causes be true?”
“Yes,” he said again without flinching. But his expression became subtly harder, she noticed.
“Why is that?” she asked, keeping to her relentless pace.
He paused. His expression changed. He grinned so wide that both his dimples showed and the sparkle of mischief she saw caused her stomach to tighten in anticipation. This was it.
“Why don’t you ask me why I’m doing this interview? Or why I chose to participate in those particular benefits? I normally don’t do much besides write a check, I’ll confess.”
She didn’t stop and try to figure it out. He would have to play her game.
“But why is that? Surely you must have some time you could spare?”
He sighed and continued to look studiously at her and not the camera. “I have some time and some energy and some heart. But I can’t give it all away. I have to draw the line somewhere. It would be easy to give my entire self away in little pieces if I did everything I was asked. And you may be surprised to know that my daughter does come before doing benefits.”
“After basketball?” she prompted.
He nodded affirmatively and absolutely without apology. His smile was gone. She knew he hated the subject, but this was her interview. Or so she thought.
“What about you?” he asked.
“What about me?” Her response was automatic and she looked at him, for a moment committing the cardinal sin of forgetting about the camera.
“You must have been in a situation before where you’ve lost control?”
“Yes. Like now for instance. I’m supposed to be asking the questions.” They laughed and she managed to regain control by announcing a commercial break.
Then she lost it again completely with the cameras turned out when she proceeded to swat him with her notes.
“Don’t you dare do that again. You don’t ask the questions. Just stick to answering them.”
He smiled his lopsided grin at her, ducking the papers. “Then stick with the program. This line of questioning wasn’t listed on the copy I received,” he noted.
“I was doing you a favor. I thought you’d appreciate the chance to defend yourself against your critics in the press.” It was partly true, she thought.
“To hell with favors. I don’t need any favors from you. You’re a little viper.” He was only half teasing.
“Oh? Not so little.” She laughed with her eyes, aware of the clock ticking down the seconds until airtime. His eyes sparked, but he only let a skeptical half-grin show. She had more live TV experience than he figured on, she’d bet. Before this job she’d done lots of TV auctions on cable stations and being live didn’t bother her a bit. He opened his mouth to speak, but the director cut him off.
“All quiet. Back from break and 5…4…3…2…1.” He swooshed his arm down, the red light went on, and Roxanne smiled into the camera again.
She did stick to the program for the rest of the show and when it was over, the producer, Hank Sillman, came by and shook Barry’s hand.
“Great job, Barry. Brilliant. Even better than we expected. I know you have a lot of demands on your time, but…”
“That’s right. The season’s starting tomorrow and I’m booked straight through next June,” Barry said in a voice harder than the pleasant half-smile on his face should have allowed.
Hank laughed it off and flashed a look at Roxanne as if for help. She said nothing. This wasn’t the time or place to start pushing their luck with Barry Dennis. Hank didn’t say any more, but Roxanne was sure he took note of the arm Barry placed behind her back in a proprietary manner as they left the studio. Hank waved them off and headed for his office.
“So what have you been up to lately? No good, I’m sure,” Barry said.
“Yeah, if you call raising money for medical research ‘no good’.”
“Oh, don’t worry. You have my vote for the Nobel Peace Prize. Does your good-deed-doing leave you any time to go out?” His eyes dared her to say yes.
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll see you after the game tomorrow night.” He walked toward the exit and moved to open the door.
“It’s a date.” She was crazy, but she couldn’t say no. “On one condition.”
He stopped in mid-motion. “What’s that?”
“You have to win the game.”
“I’ll assume you’re referring to the basketball game. No problem. You’re on.” He pushed open the door to leave and gave her one last long heart-pounding stare before stepping outside.
A smile etched her face despite the fact that she’d just created an impossibly difficult situation for herself. How could she meet Barry after the game if she already agreed to go with Mark Baines to the game, albeit for business? She’d have to do some fancy juggling to keep her date with Barry separate from her business meeting with Mark. Walking back to Hank Sillman’s office to sign her new contracts, thinking very hard. But the smile escaped through again and she shrugged as she knocked on Hank’s door. She’d figure something out. But she had better not let Barry know that she was worried. Or she’d definitely lose whatever game they were playing with each other.
A limousine picked Mark up at his hotel on the waterfront, not far from the Boston G
arden. When he got in, Roxanne greeted him with a big smile. Her plush coat and mane of rich hair made her irresistibly huggable, but he didn’t bother trying. He greeted her instead with a light kiss on the cheek.
“Wow, you really are going all-out to woo me into getting you this promo deal, aren’t you? And it may even work, too, if you keep up like this.” Sitting back in the deep seat he relaxed as much as he could.
Pouring champagne for them both, she raised her glass for a toast. “Here’s to a successful evening,” she said, and brought the glass to her parted lips. Her gaze was riveted on him. He had trouble keeping up his smile with his anxiety making his mouth quiver. He took a sip of champagne. When she looked at him that way he found it difficult to hide the effect it had. He struggled to concentrate on not spilling his drink.
“I know I won’t forget the evening even if nothing else happens.”
“I’m glad to hear you say that.”
“I take it that means nothing is going to happen between us, Roxy? All this special treatment is only to get the promo? Not even a little because you want me?” He was doing it again, but damn, he couldn’t help himself. He knew better than to try and push this woman into a corner. He was bound to get scratched. Ever since his divorce he’d been hinting that he wanted to see her seriously, but she refused to budge an inch. She wasn’t interested in any kind of commitment to him, least of all marriage. That message had been made clear, as he remembered, the night of Don’s death. He’d pushed then because she’d been separated and he figured it was his opening. But he’d pushed too hard.
“Of course, Mark. I don’t drink champagne with just anyone. Driver, go around the block. We don’t want to arrive just yet. We haven’t had a chance to talk about the deal.”
Mark laughed at her. It seemed she could make him feel like a million with such little effort.
“I do want to put together a promo for the hospital tonight first. Then we can enjoy the game.” She patted his hand in that warm way she had, making him feel special. It was pure torture. He didn’t know what to think anymore. He was crazy to think about her at all. He was acting like a fool reacting to her this way and if he kept it up, he’d deserve what he got—or didn’t get.
