Playing the Game

by Stephanie Queen

  They wrapped it up and the crew began disassembling the makeshift set. Roxanne and Barry were walking away when the director gave Roxanne a smug smile. “You thought I’d fall for that sucker’s bet?”

  Barry stopped in his tracks. “What the hell?”

  Roxanne waved the man off and took Barry’s arm to lead him off the court toward the locker rooms. “A girl can’t have any fun,” she said over her shoulder to the director.

  The man chortled. “I’ll bet you have plenty of fun,” the man said, and the entire crew laughed at that.

  Barry tugged his arm from hers and looked down at her. “What the hell was that all about? I can’t afford any more rumors about you and me, real or otherwise.” They’d reached the locker room door and he stood looking down at her with a frown, sparks of anger in those blue eyes.

  She felt exhilarated that she’d broken through his cool. “Don’t worry, Mr. Dennis. Your virtuous reputation is safe with me.” She turned to walk away and he caught her arm, stopping her.

  “Where do you think you’re going? Is our business over? I was kind enough to put up with your presence in the first place. I was expecting Laura. I expect an explanation. I don’t know what you want from me, but …”

  “Nothing. Damn it. Absolutely nothing. All right? So don’t worry your overinflated ego about it for another second. I didn’t come here chasing you.” She stopped and bit her lip, wishing her hurt didn’t show, but knowing it did. It felt too deep, too consuming to be covered by her flash of anger.

  “Then what is it, Roxanne? Why the fuck are you here?” His voice was softer, but his look was not. They still stood outside the locker room. The hall was deserted. She looked around and caught a glimpse of the crew on the court. She took a breath, willed her heartbeat to slow down, and then forced herself to meet his eyes.

  “Lindy’s surgery has been moved up. You have to leave with me tonight. We’re flying out on the red-eye.” She raised her chin. “I was sent here to fetch you.” She noticed the flicker in his eyes at the mention of his daughter.

  “I’ll come back with you. They thought you’d have to drag me back kicking and screaming?” His voice sounded gravelly and strained.

  “Yes.” She continued to watch him as he looked around. Then he looked back down at her with piercing intensity.

  “But you knew better, didn’t you?”

  She looked away. He took her chin in his hand, not gently, and forced her to look back up at him. He had her. She didn’t speak. How could she? But he already knew.

  “Didn’t you, Roxanne?”

  “Yes.” She spat the word at him, and then pulled herself from his grasp. She kept her chin up and continued to stare him straight in the eye.

  “Why did you come here then?” He didn’t give up.

  “To make sure.” She knew it sounded lame.

  “No. Tell me the real reason.” He taunted her with a soft voice and his intense eyes holding hers. He stood close, but didn’t touch her. She could smell his sweat, feel his heat and his tension.

  “You want me to tell you I came to see you? Okay. I came to see you. Are you satisfied?” Her anger was strong, but it was mixed up in a black swirl of stormy emotions. She gritted her teeth against the tears.

  “I had to know if I was right.” He let her eyes go and stepped back.

  But she was not ready to let him go. “Of course. But we’re not playing games anymore, remember? You don’t have to keep checking the score.” Her tears fell. She was finished with him. “I’ll meet you out front. We’ll get a cab whenever you’re ready.” She walked away.

  “Damn.” The word repeated in his mind as he watched her go. He’d been too afraid to ask questions about Lindy. But he trusted that Roxanne would have told him if it was something bad. He clenched his hand to his stomach. He felt sick. He walked toward the locker room to change and pack up. His mind was consumed with a mess of questions about Lindy, then Roxanne, then Lindy. Why did he keep trying to hurt Roxanne when it hurt him so much when he did? What was wrong with Lindy now? His gut clenched. He tasted bile.

  There was no room left in his thoughts for basketball. He had nothing left to spend on concern about how many games he would miss. He glanced around the room. He was alone. He sat on the nearest bench, leaned over and put his head in his hands. He couldn’t stop his mind from racing through the long-forgotten fields of forbidden thought. The hurricane of emotions in him demanded to be let free. The feeling of defeat overwhelmed him.

  He cried.

  Wearing sunglasses, Barry walked out of the front doors of the LA Forum and looked around for Roxanne. He spotted her leaning against a car at the curb reading a magazine, looking gorgeous as usual. She elicited more than one interested glance from passersby. He took a deep breath, but stood still. What the hell did he say to her now? Did he go on pretending indifference? It was getting damned near impossible to do. He’d really lost it. He had no choice. He was not ready to take on Roxanne. But he was definitely ready for Lindy.

  He wished he could transport himself to his daughter’s bedside. He ached at thinking of the time he missed, the time he wasted. Most of all, he ached at the contemplation of what she was going through right now. He had to ask Roxanne about that. The thought made him move.

  He stepped out of the shadow of the building. Even with his sunglasses on, one of the women in a group walking by grabbed his arm.

  “You’re Barry Dennis, aren’t you? The Celtics are playing here tomorrow, huh?” She poked her friend for confirmation without taking her eyes off him—and without letting go of his arm. “Could I have your autograph? We’re from out of town, but …”

  “Sure. Here.” Barry grabbed the piece of paper the woman’s friend shoved in his direction with a pen and signed it as fast as he could before anyone else decided to ask. He glanced up once to see Roxanne standing with her arms crossed, watching him. Of course she had her poise back and a look on her face that said she was laughing at him on the inside.

  “See ya, ladies. Wish me luck.” He handed the paper and pen back to them and strode off toward Roxanne.

  “We have to swing by my hotel to pick up my things and talk to the coach. What about you?” he said without looking at her. He adjusted the sunglasses on his face as he waved down a taxi. One stopped right away and he opened the door to let her in.

  “I travel light,” she said, and got into the cab.

  “When did you get in?” He asked and slid in next to her.

  “Early morning.”

  “Did you even book into a hotel?”

  “For a few hours. Listen, don’t give me this show of concern bullshit, okay? Don’t even talk to me at all.” She looked at him with revived anger in her eyes. He wasn’t going to try and strip it away again. Every ounce of him screamed for him to strip her naked and take her—emotionally. Maybe physically, too. She stared out the window drumming her fingers on the magazine she had rolled into a cylinder.

  “Tell me what’s wrong with Lindy first. Then I’ll leave you alone.” He meant it. So after a quick glance at him, she looked away and told him what she knew. Which wasn’t much. He needed more and he decided he’d call the doctor when he got to his room and had a minute alone.

  He also had to talk to the coach. Coach Benson wouldn’t be happy, but he’d understand. It didn’t matter at all to Barry. It was funny, because last week, what his coach thought mattered as much as anything, more than most.

  They reached the hotel and barely finished taking care of all their details and errands before catching another taxi and heading to the airport. A sense of urgency drove him to call and change their flight to an earlier one. He booked them in first class for dinnertime.

  On the plane, settled down after rushing around, he found himself with time to think again. Under other circumstances, this would have been an enjoyable flight. He could have looked forward to it. His mind tripped back to his flight with Roxanne from D.C. to Boston and he thought immediately of checking out
the restrooms.

  He looked over at her. She glanced back at him. He knew she was thinking the same thing. “Want to rendezvous?” He had to be crazy to suggest it. But he wanted it. He wanted that time back. He wanted everything to be the same as it was. No. Better than it was. He wanted it to be real.

  She stared back at him, not mistaking what he said. He saw the desire in her eyes. She could never hide it, not completely, even when she’d been playing games. But there was so much more there now. There was pain and understanding and compassion.

  “I would really love to. As you, no doubt, have figured out.” She paused and leaned back in her seat and closed her eyes. “But I’m not going to. At least not with you.” She sounded tired.

  “What do you mean, ‘not with me’?”

  She chuckled, eyes still closed, but made no comment. He compressed his lips shut when he would have said more. He wanted to insist on an answer. The heat of panic in him was difficult to ignore, to keep down. But he did his best. He ordered a Jack Daniels when the flight attendant came around, before they ever left the ground. It would be a long flight.

  Later, Roxanne either feigned sleep, he figured, or she really was tired. She ought to be, he thought. The plane taxied to a stop and people around him stood. The flight attendant gestured that it was time to wake Roxanne.

  He sighed. He wished to hell he could wake her up with a kiss. He looked over at her profile, soft in repose. Damn, he wished he could take her home with him and make love to her until they both forgot everything.

  But he could not. He brushed her face with his fingers. She stirred. Then she opened her eyes and looked at him. It was the most heart-melting, loving look he ever remembered getting from a woman.

  To hell with everything.

  He leaned over and kissed her. He only meant to give her a light kiss, but she kissed him back. She sighed and he forgot why he wasn’t supposed to love her.

  Eventually the flight attendant came back and, clearing her throat, told them the doors were open. They got off the plane and walked through the terminal in silence. It was just past dawn. Barry guided Roxanne through the corporate crowd swiftly, holding her to his side. He evaded the surprised glances and comments. Luckily the media hadn’t been made aware of his return. That was the deal. The coach wasn’t to make the announcement until game time.

  They slipped through the terminal exit and made it to Barry’s car, still without speaking. Barry realized having kissed her failed to erase anything that stood between them. If possible, it made things between them even more strained. He could think of nothing to say to her. She didn’t volunteer any openings. She seemed cool, but he knew she was not. He sensed the veneer that covered her tension and sadness was wearing thin.

  He didn’t want to hurt her anymore, but he knew she was hurting.

  They got in his car and she turned to him. This time she seemed more like her old self. His heart quickened.

  “Where to, Mr. Chauffeur? I’ll let you call the shots.”

  “You wouldn’t want to do that. If we did what I want, you’d end up home in my bed.” He looked at her honestly. She saw it and looked way. The veneer was gone. She stared out the window now more intently than ever.

  “I’ll take you home,” he said. She didn’t even nod. He drove. By the time he pulled in her driveway, she was a million miles away.

  He turned the engine off and slouched back into his seat. Then he looked over at her. Her eyes weren’t sad or accusing or angry, only strong and forthright. They were hard to meet. But he couldn’t turn away now.

  “Give Lindy my love, okay? She’s going to be fine.” She reached over and touched his arm.

  “I know. Some day.” His blood pounded in his veins, begging him to tell Roxanne how he felt, demanding that he make her stay.

  She kept her eyes on him and spoke. “I feel like this is one of those warped nightmares where I’ve suddenly changed from the monster to the victim and I’m being terrorized by some nameless thing. I’ve suddenly become totally helpless where I used to have complete control.” Her voice was uncharacteristically earnest with an incredulous edge.

  “If you’re not in control, sweetheart, I don’t know who is. ‘Cause I’m sure as hell not.” He gripped the steering wheel as if it might keep him from falling from his precarious spot.

  She continued to regard him with those damnable eyes for another moment. Then she turned away and covered her face. “Barry, I can’t even stand to be with you anymore. Do you have any idea what it feels like to have a broken heart?”

  As soon as he saw her tears he turned his head to face the street, held himself rigid and said, “Yes. I know what it feels like.”

  She shoved the car door open and left him there. Alone.

  Chapter 20

  BONNIE OPENED the door before Roxanne got to it. Al stood behind Bonnie in the doorway. He stepped around the woman and outside, appearing grimmer than she’d ever seen him. There was only one thing this could mean, Roxanne thought, as she wiped tears from her cheek with the back of her hand.

  Her heart pounded violently as she walked up her front steps. The implications raced through her mind. “The police have a warrant for my arrest,” she said calmly, in spite of the jump in her stomach.

  Al nodded, looking past her to Barry’s car pulling out of the driveway. Roxanne thought she better do or say something before Al cried too.

  “Don’t worry, Al. I’ve got a good lawyer.” She walked past him and patted his back and gave him a smile. He laughed and covered his face with one hand. She shivered. She was about to walk in the house, but he stood rooted on the front steps.

  “The police called last night. I said I’d bring you in. I’ve stalled them as long as I can. I’ve been spending this time trying to line up a bail bondsman. I tried to use your house for collateral. But no takers.”

  “Penelope’s lawsuit?” No bail. She couldn’t imagine it working out any other way.

  “Maybe. She engineered the language in the complaint to call into question your title—in spite of the fact that we already won that issue. There’s a motion to dismiss pending but it’ll take time. We could mortgage the house, for Christ’s sake, but that also takes time. You have any other quicker sources of money?”

  “If I had, I would have tapped them long ago.” She thought of who she’d gone to when she needed quick money for the research fund. The instant, repulsive taste of bile rose to her mouth. She’d counted on Barry Dennis too heavily, almost without even realizing it. She’d relied on him to be her guardian angel and he hadn’t disappointed her. To her detriment, she’d ignored the one lesson her daddy had taught her: don’t rely on anyone but yourself, especially not men. And she was regretting it in spades.

  “What about …” Al began.

  “Don’t even say it.” She stared at him until he backed down.

  “But Roxanne, the alternative is jail.”

  “I don’t care. How bad could the town of Marblehead’s jail be?” It didn’t matter where she was. She was doomed to feel miserable for a long, long time.

  She had only herself to blame. This was the final prayer of her penance, losing her heart to Barry. Everything else—Don’s death, losing her money, her job, even getting arrested was not enough. Nothing was more appropriate.

  “If we’re going, let’s go. We’ll take your car in case we have to sell mine.” She quirked her brow. He wasn’t amused. They walked to his car. Bonnie came with them. She only nodded her head at Roxanne. She knew there was nothing to say. Poor Bonnie had run out of things to say, run out of steam long ago. She should be retired somewhere by now, Roxanne thought as they all got in Al’s car. She’d put the woman through enough. They’d have to talk about that. Later.

  She was hoping for a silent drive, but it wasn’t to be. Al spoke. “I see you got Barry to return with you without a problem.”

  “Look, if this is your attempt at idle conversation, you picked the wrong subject.”

  “No.
I picked the right subject. There’s a custody hearing coming up soon …”

  “You absolutely do not have to worry about me being involved with him for another second.” The prospect that they’d actually take his daughter away now seemed unimaginable to Roxanne. But she wasn’t about to play spoiler.

  “I am worried. About you. They found a big crack in your alibi. That’s why they decided to arrest you now. Seems you were seen leaving the party that night, at least for a short while. We need Mark Baines more than ever. You were with him?”

  “Yes. I was.” She sighed, remembering. There was no doubt he would remember.

  “You look like hell and this hasn’t even started yet,” Al said as he glanced over at her before returning his attention to the familiar winding roads leading into town.

  She laughed in spite of his seriousness. “Good. Then I can only get better, right?”

  He shook his head and said no more. She didn’t know if it was because he was defeated or because they had arrived at the police station.

  The thudding in her chest returned with a suddenness that wiped everything else from her thoughts. It was as if her mind suspended operation and she went on automatic pilot as she got out of the car and went through the glass doors of the station. She neither thought nor felt. She merely went through the motions.

  Detective Turner was in the lobby to meet them. He handed Al the arrest warrant for him to examine. Al’s look at the document was perfunctory. Of course all was in order.

  The detective turned to her and looked her straight in the eye.

  “Roxanne Monet, you are under arrest for murder in the first degree of Donald Boswell III. You have a right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have a right to have your attorney present during questioning…” He went on in his clipped, professional voice, not taking his eyes off her. She felt a sickening taste rise again to her throat. The lightheadedness that came upon her prevented her from paying attention to the rest of what he said. She felt Al next to her and was surprised to find that she was clutching his arm.