“Struck out, did you?”
“I didn’t even get to bat. I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes the next time she sees you.” Kevin pointed a finger at Barry’s chest.
“What did I miss?” Dave asked. “Don’t worry about scoring, Kevin. We’ll find some prime babes tonight.”
“Prime babes?” Barry raised a brow. “It’s a good thing you’re already married, Dave, or you’d be in serious trouble.” They all laughed. But the humor didn’t reach Barry’s churning gut.
“By the way, Kevin, you don’t suppose I could have that number back do you? It was my only copy,” he asked, for no good reason.
“Nah. I threw it out. It’s not on my cell anymore either—I use the phone constantly,” Kevin said.
“Shit. She called twice on the house phone and left messages.” Barry knew he should leave it alone.
“Don’t you have Caller ID?” Dave asked.
“I don’t know. Hardly ever use the house phone.”
“No big deal. You’re better off without her,” Dave said.
“What do you mean?” Kevin asked.
Barry threw Dave a warning glance.
“Nothing. It’s a long story. Let’s have a drink,” Dave said.
Barry ordered Dave his usual beer. It turned out they didn’t have to do much hunting. Women were drawn to them. Barry and Dave towered over most of the crowd and were instantly recognizable. All the women who approached them were deflected toward Kevin.
But by ten that night they all went home by themselves, having had a good time nonetheless. When Barry got home he did an internet search to find Roxanne’s number, but of course it wasn’t listed in any of the usual places. He shut the notebook computer, muttering to himself that he must be crazy. She’d be angry with him and rightly so. Even if he no longer wanted to see her, he hardly had a right to pass her along to another man.
If she did bother to call again, it would be to yell at him. He would let her. Then he’d forget her and move on. He’d gotten several phone numbers that evening for future reference. Any one of them was as good a candidate for a casual affair—better. None of them were nearly as interesting or exciting or intriguing as Roxanne.
He ran his fingers through his hair and headed for the stairs. When he was halfway to the top he heard his house phone ring. The answering machine in his bedroom could take it. He had to get to sleep.
Then he heard her voice. He lunged up the last three steps at once and dashed into his room, grabbing the phone.
“Rox, hi, I just got in.” Barry breathed hard into the phone before he realized it and then cupped his hand over the mouthpiece so he wouldn’t sound like some pervert.
“Out late, aren’t you? And I was worried I’d wake you.”
“Special occasion. What’s up?” Barry recognized the teasing note in her voice, but he steeled himself for her anger. He was sure she would let him have it—somehow. His pulse quickened at that thought and he shifted on his feet to try and relax.
“I have a business proposition for you, but I’d much rather go over it in person. Can we meet for lunch tomorrow and discuss it?” Her voice was as cool and businesslike as he’d ever heard. Maybe this was her way of dealing with him. Maybe from now on he was relegated to the unfortunate group of men who were to her strictly professional relations. He was about to accept her invitation to find out when he remembered.
“I have a game tomorrow night.”
“I know that. So what? You still have to eat lunch don’t you?”
Barry could swear he heard the near laugh in her voice mocking him and the one side of his mouth curved upward.
“You know what happens to me when we get together. I can’t risk seeing you the day of a game. I’ll be useless by game time.”
Roxanne laughed and his grin widened. He figured she mustn’t be too upset with him after all.
“I’m sure you can manage to control yourself just this once. It’s very important.” She paused. “We’ll meet in public.”
He noticed a subtle but distinct change in her tenor from businesslike to teasing. This time he laughed.
“Okay. We’re on for lunch. I promise to control myself—if you do.”
“I’ll pick you up after practice?”
“See you around two then.” He probably should have said three, but he didn’t want to make their meeting too close to game time.
“Oh, and Barry—don’t ever give my phone number to another man again.” The line went dead. He stood holding it and blew out a long whistle. He tossed the phone on his nightstand and plopped down on his bed. That was that. Relief seeped through him. He thought she’d be a lot angrier.
He stood back up and stripped his clothes. Glancing at the alarm clock he realized it was nearly eleven and he swore under his breath. He would have been in bed, asleep, an hour ago. He got in bed and lay down but his eyes were wide open. She should have been very angry. He wondered about it for only another minute. She must want something pretty badly from me. A smile formed on his face as he anticipated their business meeting the next day.
Chapter 12
ROXANNE LEANED against the sparkling red Corvette on the crisp, sunny early December day in the parking lot of Hellenic College. She stood outside the gym waiting for Barry. There were only a few other cars left in the lot, including Barry’s black Cadillac Eldorado. Roxanne shook her head. It looked like a mobster car. It suited him perfectly now that she thought of it, between his New York accent and his defiant cigarette-smoking attitude.
The gymnasium door swung open and Roxanne automatically straightened her stance against the car, unfolding her arms. But it wasn’t Barry. It was the Celtics trainer, Mike Lavola. She returned to her pose, hugging the faux fur collar of her black leather bomber against her neck. She only had a white cotton blouse underneath. She should have worn a sweater. Looking down at her short black leather skirt, black stockings and over-the-knee boots, she admitted to herself that her attire was hardly suitable to the “business” meeting she told Barry she had planned. But she needed every advantage she could muster. All bets were off now.
Today was Sunday. She had promised Laura she would deliver Barry as the official spokesperson by tomorrow and she meant to keep that promise. That morning she had worked on drawing up the papers for Barry’s signature—after much consultation with Al regarding contract law. It was true, Roxanne thought, squinting through the sunlight, you can learn something new every day.
The gym door banged open and this time Barry and Dave stepped outside. Roxanne caught Barry’s eye immediately and he walked toward her, looking her and her car over with appreciation and his lopsided grin in place. Roxanne’s automatic response was to smile. Dave followed Barry after he saw where Barry was headed. Barry came to a stop a few feet in front of her and let out a long, loud wolf whistle, then moved closer.
“You do make an inviting picture. You ever think about doing ads to sell these cars?” he suggested. Roxanne laughed and he continued. “They asked me to do a Corvette ad once and I turned them down. But I could never have sold as many cars for them as you could.”
Dave nodded in agreement and let out a sigh.
“Would you like to join us for lunch, Dave?” Roxanne asked with a sincere smile, almost hoping he would. Dave shot his eyebrows up in surprise.
“No thanks. My wife’s expecting me home for lunch. Maybe another time—my treat.”
“It’s a date.”
“Don’t tell my wife that.” Dave laughed over his shoulder as he headed toward the Jeep Cherokee parked next to Barry’s car. Barry placed a hand on either side of her, bracing himself against the car.
“Are you sure this is a business lunch?” His grin was still in place, but his eyes only half hid the fiery blue blaze. Roxanne gazed up at his face, her eyes drawn to his.
“Let’s put it this way: I do have some business to take care of with you, but it won’t take long. The rest of my afternoon is yours.” She parted her lips slightly w
ith her head tilted backward. She didn’t know if he would kiss her, but she invited him. She couldn’t remember ever being more enthralled with a man. The thudding loudness in her veins as her blood pumped through was an exhilarating feeling she wished she could capture and hold forever. At the same time, she knew that was as impossible as capturing this man, entirely. The sigh that she let out came as a surprise to her and it caused Barry’s brows to arch.
“I was about to commit a cardinal sin and drag you away to my bedroom for the afternoon—the business and the game be damned.” He sighed as if with regret.
She didn’t believe him.
“But I came to my senses in the nick of time. I’m rather proud of myself. Maybe some of my sanity is returning.” Barry pushed himself back from the car without touching her and folded his arms across his chest, still firing his blazing eyes at her.
“I’d still be careful if I were you. I have a lot more weapons in my arsenal—if I wanted to use them.” She turned and opened her car door, gesturing for him to get in the passenger side.
He shook his head before he moved from the spot. “I’m doomed.”
She drove them to a quiet restaurant, The Colorado Grill in Brookline, not far from the gym. They were shown to the table she had reserved earlier. The hostess left their menus and Roxanne lifted her briefcase onto the table, popped it open, and pulled out a folder and two pens.
“What’s this?”
“The business I told you about. Do you want to sign on the dotted line now or would you rather I explain what signing first?”
“You want me to trust you?”
Roxanne laughed at his mock indignation. At least she thought it was a mock. “That would be asking a bit much. Okay, here’s the deal. This is a contract in which you agree to be the public spokesperson for a campaign soliciting donations for the Dr. Oki Fund—a special fund for children’s medical research in the area of burn and trauma treatment. It’s the program that Lindy is receiving treatment from. The contract period is from now until May 30th.
“You would agree to make a number of public appearances on behalf of the Fund and no less than two television commercials, which would have to be shot by the end of February.” She finished speaking. She never took her eyes off his stony face. She turned the contract toward him and flipped it open to the clipped page for his signature. She held the pen out to him, concentrating on keeping her hand steady. She felt her stomach roiling, but she didn’t flinch.
He sat, not making a move to take the pen from her, not looking at the document in front of him, but at her. She stared back at him, careful to remain businesslike. She was prepared to have to persuade him, although she hoped he would be agreeable to it without more than her reference to Lindy’s treatment. But from his unsmiling face and the expressionless eyes, she knew he was going to put up a fight.
“What? Are you fucking crazy? The only reason I don’t stand up and walk out of here right now is that I’m damned curious to know what the hell you think you’re doing. You think because my daughter is in your damned hospital you can suck me into this fucking fund-raising racket?” He took a deep breath and looked away. “Besides—I came here in your God damned car.”
She smiled, but he remained expressionless. She supposed that was better than a scowl of anger on top of his angry words. But then she remembered this was his game face; the face he wore to war; the face he used when he played to win. She searched her mind for what to say to him.
“I’m not crazy, Barry. And I’m not trying to take advantage of you. I’m desperate.” She didn’t whine. She didn’t embellish. She didn’t complain. She only stated the bare fact of the matter. It was all she had.
His face fell into his hands as he leaned forward. He lifted his head after a moment. The blaze of his eyes burned directly at hers. She took a quick breath at the intensity of his focus, his taut look, the clench of his jaw.
“Fuck! I’m fucked. Do you know what you’re asking—no forcing—me to do? I can’t say no because somewhere, deep down, I must have some decency left in me. But it was buried so long ago even I’m surprised it’s still there. Shit. Do you know what you’re asking? This fucking fund drive of yours goes smack through the whole fucking season all the way through the play-offs! How the hell am I going to make appearances?”
“Other athletes do it all the time,” she insisted.
“I’m not ‘other athletes.’ I’m having a hard enough time getting in to see my own fucking daughter. God damn, Roxanne.” He paused and looked around them and took a deep breath before he continued. “Let me just give you the fucking money.” His eyes looked wild and imploring.
Her throat tightened. She’d never seen him like this before. Now he was the desperate one and she didn’t understand why. A ball of vile rose to clog her already tight throat. She couldn’t speak, could barely breathe.
A plate clattered to the floor somewhere. She became aware of her surroundings again. She took some stabilizing breaths and lowered her shaky hand. She gathered her poise to speak.
“Do you have twelve million dollars handy?” she asked quietly.
“Fuck. I’d have to sell most of my investments and probably at a loss.” He looked away from her now, rubbing his chin. He appeared calmer. She felt her face flush with surprised shame that she’d asked for a piece of him when she realized he would seriously consider giving her millions of dollars rather than time. He muttered one more curse, grabbed the pen from the table, and scrawled his name across the signature line.
Despite having witnessed the anguish it cost him, she smiled. Her racing heart slowed to normal. Whatever mysterious reasons he had for his battle with himself, she felt strangely proud of him. Maybe she could get him to put out more effort for his daughter.
“Now get this God damned thing out of my face. And don’t talk to me about it until you have to. I don’t even want to think how much of myself I just signed away.”
“Don’t worry. It won’t take much time…”
“Time? You think that’s all it is?
Roxanne leaned back in her seat and opened her mouth, then closed it again. She thought for a moment. It wasn’t about time, was it? She had enough time to do both her jobs, but it was something else that was needed besides time. Energy? More than that. Commitment—emotional commitment.
“I suppose not,” she said. Roxanne felt confused. Her throat constricted again. Her momentary pleasure and pride faded. She studied Barry’s face as he looked at her. She licked her lips.
“I’m sorry, Barry. I know it’s going to be hard for you. But if it’s any consolation, I think you’re doing the right thing.” She paused, then smiled. “I’m glad there was some decency left in you. I kind of thought there might be.”
He quirked his mouth in a faint version of his lopsided grin. “You mean in spite of everything you’ve heard about me? I’ve turned down these charity things before, except a couple off-season things and whatever the organization insists on. Maybe Lindy has a stronger hold on me than I thought. Maybe I am more than an uncle-daddy. It’s impossible to say no to something that might benefit her.
“One thing I know for sure. It’s going to be a hell of a fucking season. I’m not at all sure I want to venture a guess at the outcome. If the start’s been any sign, I’m in for a roller coaster ride.” He stared at the saltshaker he’d been tossing up and down with one hand.
Roxanne certainly had nothing to add to that comment. She was in for a ride herself. The next six months didn’t look to be a walk in the park for her either. Between the Dr. Oki Fund, trying to do two jobs, not to mention the notion of Penelope having a detective snooping around, she had her own problem with balls in the air. Roxanne shifted uneasily in her seat as she joined Barry in watching his methodical toss of the saltshaker.
The waitress approached the table and stood, clearing her throat before either of them looked up.
“Can you get me a pack of cigarettes please—and a cup of coffee.” Barry looked at
the waitress with those brilliant blue eyes and Roxanne saw the girl fairly gasp. She didn’t know if it was his blazing stare of his request for cigarettes that startled the girl, but she scurried away before Roxanne could ask for a thing. Not that she wanted anything. She was decidedly unhungry.
“Now you’ve blown your secret.”
Barry looked at her and snapped his fingers in a gesture of mock regret. She laughed and he looked at her with that lopsided grin that would forever hold a treasured place in her memory. No matter what else happened, she decided.
“I can’t say I’m surprised.” Harry didn’t smile when Roxanne threw the signed contract on the small round table for Laura and him to see. Laura flipped to the signature page to see Barry Dennis’s scrawled name across the bottom.
“This is great. I’ll start getting on the phone right away and put things in motion now that we have something solid to push. It will make my job a lot easier,” Laura said. She began to rise, taking the contract with her.
“Wait. You said you had some things for me relating to my holiday benefit party,” Roxanne stopped her. Laura’s smile faded and she looked away.
“Oh, that. You don’t really want that stuff now.” Laura started to walk toward the door.
“Bills?” Roxanne guessed. Laura nodded. “How much?”
“The invitations, the catering deposit, miscellaneous linens, postage, et cetera. So far it comes to about thirty-five hundred dollars.” Laura wrinkled her nose as she stood looking at Roxanne.
Roxanne raised her eyes skyward, blew out a whistle and put her chin in her hand. “Shit.” She looked at Harry who was now frowning. He looked like he was about to say something, but Roxanne wasn’t going to let him try. She was prepared for this eventuality, not that she had the money sitting in the bank waiting to pay the bills. This was only the beginning of the bills for this party. She expected it to run her about ten thousand dollars altogether. And she knew what she had to do to pay for it. She stood.
Playing the Game Page 18
