Playing the Player

by Lea Santos

  “I bet you’d be surprised. Invite her.”

  Madeira gaped at her paramedic partner. “Bring a date to a bachelor/bachelorette auction? When I’m on the auction block?” Madeira laughed and gave him a look that said the idea wasn’t just bad, it was flat fucking crazy. “Fletch, buddy, you’ve been out of the dating game too long if you think that ploy has a chance in hell of working.”

  “Yeah, thank God I’m out of that game.”

  Madeira did a double take.

  Simon shrugged. “What? I love my comfortable life and my comfortable wife. I know you think you’ve got it made with your…ways, but you don’t know what you’re missing, Mad. I can’t imagine having to get used to a different woman all the time.” He shuddered, propping one booted ankle across the other knee.

  Come to think of it, that was one downfall of prowling the scene. The variety was great, but no one ever seemed to get close. Then again, until she’d met Gracie, Madeira had never wanted anyone close.

  Why was that?

  “Look,” Madeira said, staring straight ahead. “Gracie already thinks I’m a player—”

  “Which you are.”

  “Granted. But Gracie also has zero interest in dating me, even for one night, even for a good cause. She wouldn’t come to the auction.”

  Simon didn’t answer for a long time. Madeira peered over. “Did you hear anything I said?”

  “Shh.” Simon held up a hand. “Aren’t you listening?”

  Madeira glanced toward the front, then back at her partner. “No, I’m talking to you.”

  “Well, I can multitask. And if you ever want to make it through P-school, you need to master that skill, too.”

  Madeira tried to catch up on the conversation. “What’s up?”

  “Sounds like they have a problem with the auction that you, and you alone, can fix. Hang on.” Simon held up his hand, and Buzz acknowledged him immediately.

  “You have an idea, Fletch?”

  “Yes, the best idea. Madeira’s…” Fletch angled a glance downward, as though choosing his words carefully “Grace Obregon used to tend bar for a living. I’ll bet Madeira can convince her to bartend for the auction for a reduced fee or free, and that will further tie this thing into the newspaper articles—”

  “Are you out of your damn mind?” Madeira rasped, gripping Simon’s arm.

  “Mad, we don’t have a bartender,” Simon said in an urgent whisper. “Which could ruin this whole event. And we need those rigs.”

  Madeira didn’t argue.

  “This is a great way for you to get Grace to the auction without asking her on a date.”

  “I don’t want her at the auction.”

  “That’s a great idea,” Buzz said, loud and enthusiastic. From the rumbling through the room, her colleagues agreed. “Some of us married guys can work as bar backs and waiters, but we really need a professional to head everything up.” Buzz hiked his chin toward Madeira. “Think you can talk her into it?”

  Madeira seriously wanted to hurl. Buzz stared back. Slowly, other medics turned, until almost the whole room of hopeful faces had turned her way.

  With effort, Madeira managed a sick smile, wondering how the hell she was going to convince Gracie to do this and survive her presence while Madeira strutted her stuff for high dollar bids. Still, Madeira knew she couldn’t let the other medics down. Knew she wouldn’t, no matter how horrible the task, how much it would prove to Grace things about Madeira that just weren’t true. “Can’t hurt to ask, right?”

  *

  “Hey, Grace.”

  Grace looked up from her desk where she sat grading papers to find Niki’s much-welcome face in her doorway. She had been enjoying the solitude since school let out. Try as she might to keep the focus on her lessons these first two days since the articles hit, all the pupils wanted to talk about was the newspaper articles, the crash, and the Thief of Hearts. She couldn’t blame them. They were just kids. From the questions they asked, she figured many of them were fronting queries for their curious mothers anyway. Still, it was good to see a friendly, unquestioning face. She smiled and set aside her pen. “Hi, Nik. What’s up?”

  “Tanforan has called a quick faculty meeting in the cafeteria. I’m rounding everyone up.”

  “Oh.” Grace stood, trepidation loosening her limbs, though the reaction made no sense whatsoever. Tanforan was an abstract thinker and a brilliant man. He often called impromptu meetings when an idea struck him. Grace pulled her cardigan off the back of her chair and stooped to lock the bottom drawer of her desk where she kept her small backpack. Picking up her planning calendar, she glanced at Nik. “Is something wrong?”

  Nik shrugged. “Don’t know. He didn’t seem upset, though. If anything, I sensed a little excitement in the air.”

  “That’s good news. Maybe we’re all getting raises.”

  “Ha.”

  They hurried down the hall, and Grace found herself taking larger steps than was comfortable. She flinched when her leg twinged, slowing immediately.

  Nik peered down, steadying her with a hand on her elbow. “You okay? How’s it feeling?”

  “A little overworked, actually. It’s been bothering me since our walk yesterday.” Bent forward, she kneaded the scar tissue for a moment, then peered up at Nik. “Can we skip the walk today?”

  “No problem.” Nik patted her back. “I’ll even give you a lift home after the meeting, if you’d like.”

  She flashed a grateful smile as they filed into the cafeteria behind the three sixth-grade teachers. “I’d appreciate that.”

  Niki had been a good friend to Grace ever since her first day of college, when she’d been more overwhelmed than anything. After attending her first class, she realized with dismay that the majority of the other freshmen were about six years younger than she, and most of them treated her like an oddity rather than a classmate. Niki never treated her as if she were different, because Niki was different, too. Despite their seven-year age gap—Nik had graduated from high school at seventeen—they’d both come to college to study and learn rather than party. That set them apart and threw them together, and they’d been pals ever since.

  Not to mention, they were both lesbians.

  Nik had always been a bookish, unassuming type. Theirs was a solid friendship built on mutual acceptance of each other’s true selves more than anything else.

  Nik had been valedictorian of her high school class and finished college at age twenty with a slew of honors and infinite possibilities. When she’d chosen teaching instead of a more prestigious, lucrative field, most of the people in her life were scandalized. Nik’s parents believed she’d thrown away her potential, but Nik was the rare sort of person who realized that a good teacher early in life could set even the most disadvantaged child on the path to greatness. She wanted to be that teacher, that conduit, to inspire as many children as she possibly could.

  Grace respected that goal more than she could even say. Nik, in turn, respected her—tattoos, bad rep, and all. Other than Lola, Niki was probably the only person who knew all about Grace’s wild past and poor life choices and didn’t hold them against her or use them to place her in some sort of mental box. She saw the person Grace wanted to be, and how rare was that quality in a friend? Two friends, actually. Nik’s longtime partner, Bree, was a welcome part of the friendship package.

  Nik had been with Bree since the day they graduated from high school. The two planned to marry in Canada as soon as Bree finished her education, which would be years down the road since she’d just entered med school with the goal of becoming a pediatric neurosurgeon. Nik always joked that she and Bree were perfectly matched, because Bree wanted to get into kids’ heads and Nik had chosen to get into their hearts. Grace just felt lucky to have the two of them in her corner.

  Niki had helped her get this job, and she’d been instrumental in helping her keep it after the accident. She owed Niki…so much.

  They took seats at the cafeteria tables,
chatting with the other teachers until Wes Tanforan swept in. He greeted everyone as he moved toward the front, pausing to pat Grace on the shoulder.

  “How’s the leg?”

  “Fine, thanks. Niki’s been helping me rehabilitate.”

  Tanforan patted Niki as well, then headed to the front table. “Thanks for gathering, folks. I know I tore some of you away from your favorite task, paper grading,” he said wryly, garnering some soft laughter. He smoothed his windblown hair. “I wanted to see how these first couple days went…but I’ve decided we need to address the media coverage of our own Miss Obregon with the students.”

  Grace’s stomach plunged, and the mild smile froze on her face, transforming into something garish. Was Dr. Tanforan going to fire her right in front of her peers?

  “Don’t worry,” Nik whispered. “You’re fine. Just breathe. He wouldn’t bring you in front of everyone to burn you at the proverbial stake.”

  Grace couldn’t even nod. Her heart rattled, and tension pulled the skin on her head taut.

  Tanforan held up the Post article and another couple from smaller papers. “The kids can’t stop talking about this, as I’m sure you all know.” The teachers laughed and commented, and Grace said a silent but fervent prayer that she would be zapped into vapor and whisked out of the room on a breeze.

  She finally managed to clear her throat. “I-I’m sorry if this has disrupted your classrooms,” she stammered, glancing around at the teachers without really seeing any of them.

  “No, no, Grace. You misunderstand. I just think it’s the perfect opportunity to incorporate this experience into our lesson plans,” Tanforan finished.

  Gracie’s racing thoughts screeched to a dead stop. She replayed the man’s words. Had he said “the perfect opportunity”? Her jaw slackened.

  “That’s a great idea,” said one of the sixth-grade teachers, jotting a note in her calendar. She turned and smiled toward Grace. “It’s a fantastic chance to focus on a media lesson, now when the kids can truly relate it to themselves.”

  “Exactly.”

  Grace eased a breath through her lips and laid her hands in her lap to steady her quaking legs. Okay, maybe this wasn’t quite the end of the world she’d imagined. Chill, Grace. Just listen to the man.

  “Told you,” whispered Nik, as though reading her mind.

  She flashed a small but grateful smile.

  Tanforan uncapped a marker and flipped over a fresh sheet of paper on the large easel to his left. “Let’s brainstorm some ideas on how to do this school-wide. I really want it to be a team effort. Grace? Do you have any ideas to start us off?”

  She swallowed. “Well, this comes as a bit of a surprise. Let me think for a minute.”

  “I could focus on sports and exercise to overcome injuries,” Niki offered.

  “Super. That’s just the kind of ideas I want to hear. Think past the media coverage itself, to the bigger picture.” The Magic Marker squeaked as Tanforan listed Niki’s idea on the paper in angular drafter’s printing. Grace found the sound both familiar and comfortable.

  “I’d like to do something on the power of the media, though,” said one of the English teachers. “It fits in with the propaganda lessons I have on schedule.”

  “Of course.” Tanforan added it to the list.

  As the ideas flew, Grace became caught up in the excitement of the faculty, grateful that the media coverage hadn’t blown up in her face. She had just begun to feel all sappy emotional and swamped with gratitude over her wonderful job and supportive colleagues when the health teacher raised her hand.

  “Yes, Betty?”

  She shot a glance toward Grace. “I think this would be a splendid opportunity to teach the children about accident prevention and first aid. Maybe Grace could ask the, uh, Samaritan to give a school-wide presentation on the topic.”

  Excited chatter drifted up from the assemblage. Grace wanted to puke.

  “She and her partner could bring the ambulance,” Betty added. “The kids would love it.”

  “We can even use it to segue into a discussion about the importance of helping others,” offered the school nurse.

  Tanforan beamed approval as the brainstorming picked up speed. Grace slumped in her chair. Just what she needed—another reason to be around Madeira. And yet, they’d expect her to pull this off. All the teachers, with the exception of Niki, no doubt believed what they’d read in the papers, that she and Madeira were romantically involved. It would only stand to reason, then, that Madeira would accept such a request. Grace couldn’t very well tell everyone she didn’t have any such significant other–type clout without coming clean about having duped the media. What kind of example would that set for the kids? What would her colleagues think of her?

  The thing was, Madeira would probably jump on the chance to invade this part of Grace’s life, too, persistent bugger that she was. Childish as it sounded, Grace didn’t want Maddee encroaching upon school, the only Madeira-free haven she had left.

  From the enthusiastic murmuring moving through the cafeteria, she got the distinct impression she was the only person who thought this visit from Madeira was a monumentally bad idea.

  For the second time during the relatively short meeting, Niki leaned toward her and whispered, “You’re okay. Just breathe.”

  Tanforan held up a hand to quiet the crowd. When the mumbling had dwindled, he glanced toward Grace and raised his brows. “What do you think, Grace? Can you talk her into it?”

  Grace managed a sick smile, wondering how the hell she was going to convince Madeira to bow out of this gracefully. Then again, she didn’t want to let the other teachers down, so maybe she should just suck it up and suffer Maddee’s presence. Oh, who knew, anymore?

  She hiked a shoulder. “Can’t hurt to ask, right?”

  *

  “We’ve always been honest with each other, haven’t we, Grace?” Niki kept her eyes on the road.

  “Of course.” She peered curiously at her longtime friend. “What’s up?”

  Nik paused, as if searching for the correct words. “I’m having a hard time figuring out why you’re fighting against this Pacias woman so hard.”

  Grace bit back her surprise over the statement and laid her head back against the headrest. “You know why, Nik. She’s the kind of woman I’ve sworn off of.”

  “But is she really?” Niki flashed Grace a quick glance, then returned her focus to the winding pavement ahead.

  “What do you mean? The chick has dated, like, a million women. A long-term relationship for Madeira is one where she remembers the woman’s name after she makes her breakfast.”

  “You know this for certain?”

  Grace sniffed. “Maddee doesn’t deny it. And she’s a big flirt.”

  “Yeah?” Nik nodded sagely. “Well, I know this really great woman who has also dated, like, a million other women and she can be a big flirt when she wants to. Granted, she has had a few longer-term relationships, but I also know for a fact that she went through a serious biker phase during which she dated women named Lurch, Mongrel, and Rat. And despite all that, I wouldn’t hesitate to fix her up with my best friend.”

  Grace warmed with the compliment. “Rat wasn’t that bad.”

  “Are you talking about the same Rat I’m thinking of?” Nik stopped for a red light and pinned her with a stare. “I guess you’ve blocked out Rat’s late-night motorcycle repair parties on your living room carpet. You know, the ones that got you evicted? Or the fact that her favorite Harley-Davidson T-shirt said ‘If you can read this, the bitch fell off’on the back?”

  “Hmm.” She crinkled her nose. “I did hate that shirt. And, okay. Getting evicted wasn’t a walk in the park.”

  “Exactly.” A pause. “Has Madeira pulled any such egregious acts?”

  Grace let the moment stretch silently. She wrapped her hand around the shoulder strap of her seat belt. “Well…no.”

  Nik inclined her head, as if to say she didn’t think so. �
�Do you want my impressions of Madeira, just from the newspaper articles and what you’ve told me?”

  No. “I guess.”

  Nik turned off the main thoroughfare into Grace’s neighborhood. “She and her sister moved to this country to make money for their family back in Mexico.”

  “Pretty common.”

  “Sure, but they turned a grassroots community gardening project into a nationwide nonprofit, and Madeira worked as a project manager. My guess is not for much money.”

  Nik paused.

  Grace said nothing, so she continued.

  “Then Madeira stopped to help you on the accident scene, put herself in harm’s way by crawling beneath your demolished car, soothed your fears, right?”

  “Yes.” Grace focused her gaze out the passenger side window. She wasn’t sure she liked having Madeira’s good points laid out this boldly. It made the damn woman sound perfect.

  “She kept Ms. Right for a year, even though she thought you were dead. And apparently the accident—indeed, meeting and trying to help you—impacted her so deeply, she left her job to pursue a career in paramedicine.”

  Grace held up her index finger. “We don’t know that for sure. Maddee’s never talked about it.”

  “Well”—Nik hiked one shoulder—“what else could’ve prompted such a life change? It only makes sense.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that.”

  “According to you, she’s charming, likable, kind—”

  “And a big flirt.”

  “Your family likes her. You like her—”

  “Not like that.”

  “Grace,” Niki said, her tone droll. “Was I born yesterday?”

  Grace quirked her mouth to the side. “Practically.”

  Niki grinned but ignored the playful barb. “Anyway, don’t you see how different Madeira is from, say…Rat?”

  “Well, sure. But—”

  “Or Lurch. I mean, honey, her nickname was Lurch. And how many times did you bail Lurch out of jail after she drove drunk?”

  That memory still pained Grace. It had been a real low point in her life, and bailing out a drunk driver would always be one of her biggest regrets. She bit her lip. “Three times.”