by Susan Arden
“I’ll enjoy looking at this one,” Mrs. Gold said, but Cory didn’t know which of the photographs his mom was referring to. “Precious.”
“Which?” Cory asked.
His mother showed her the one taken of Cory and Brett. “Would you like a copy? Estella knows how to send them, don’t you?”
“I guess I’m going to learn,” Estella grumbled.
Mrs. Gold continued, “Would you like some hot cider, or we’ve coffee, tea, juice…?”
“I’d like some cider, thank you.” Cory sat in the chair and listened to Brett answer his mom’s questions and gave her a rundown on the week ahead. His mom knew more about football than most people, Cory imagined. Or maybe, it was because she was on this side of the profession and she knew what to ask. Mrs. Gold rattled off the names of players and coaches, plays, and formations as they sipped their cider. Cory glanced around the room done in light blues and beiges. The apartment was in a gated retirement community just outside Dallas. The layout was open with a living room and dining room and then a large master suite. She didn’t know what the rest of the apartment was like and wondered if Estella lived here as well. Estella came back with another tray holding a platter of the baked goods that Brett had brought.
She offered a small plate to each of them and helped Mrs. Gold choose a few of the gourmet cookies, shooing her away from a chocolate croissant. “You know Brett brought that just for me.”
“Oh, I forgot. Here, look, I’m taking the raspberry scone and the cheese pastry.”
Estella looked at them and huffed, “I’m telling you. I have to watch her every moment of the day. You can’t imagine what it’s like playing cards with sticky fingers over here.”
“You all play cards?” Cory asked. “I told Brett how much I like a good card game, but so far we haven’t played.”
Both Estella and Mrs. Gold stopped nibbling on their pastries and stared, unblinking, at her. “You do?” they asked in unison.
Brett almost choked, “Oh no. Don’t you two even try to sound innocent. Cory, beware. You’re in the midst of a pair of card sharks.”
Mrs. Gold laughed. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“Pardon, Mom, but who was asked to leave an unnamed casino in Houston?”
She waved her hand. “Pishposh. It was a mistake. Really, imagine us.” She motioned between Estella and herself. “Putting one over on a casino. How utterly absurd.”
Estella had gone mute and Brett chuckled. “I think your name and photograph and that of your sidekick are still posted for counting cards.”
“Fine. If we ever play, it will be for Cheetos or something equally benign.”
He breathed out a long exhalation. “I don’t know what to do with you sometimes.”
“Just love her. If you don’t she’ll whine and sulk until your next visit,” Estella muttered.
“Brett, son. Why don’t you show Cory the photo album?”
“Don’t fill her head with nonsense while I’m gone.” Brett rose and ran his knuckle along the side of Cory’s jaw. “Be warned. She’ll have you promising her a trip to Florida if you’re not careful.”
Estella rose as well. She bent over the tray and picked up the teapot. “May I help you?” Cory asked.
“You’re very sweet. I can manage. Would you like something from kitchen? Goldie?”
“I’m good,” she said and glanced over to Brett’s mom.
“A glass of water, please, Estella.”
“Be right back with more cider and water.” Estella nodded.
“Cory, be a doll and hand me my glasses.” Mrs. Gold pointed to a table by the window. She went and retrieved the glasses, then a photograph of a younger Mrs. Gold caught her attention. It had to be his parents. The man next to Brett’s mom was in uniform, tall and built like Brett. Her gaze lowered and she noticed a walker partially hidden by the curtains in the corner. The realization of what it must be like for his mom and for Brett hit her full force. Returning to the bedside, she smiled at Mrs. Gold.
“Brett likes you. A lot,” his mother said with a sigh.
“I like him too,” she offered, not knowing if his mother was naturally concerned or worried for other reasons.
“You know he was engaged last year?”
“I don’t follow the gossip columns, and really must admit I’m not even much of a sports fan before now.”
“Actually, that might work in your favor.”
“What do you mean?”
The pregnant silence expanded as Mrs. Gold plucked at her coverlet. She appeared to be weighing her words, and for that Cory was grateful. If this was her family, whatever was on a person’s mind would be offered with or without permission. Tact was not a strong point of anyone in her family.
Mrs. Gold gazed at her. “I take it you’re not like most of the girls Brett has dated. He tells me you’re in school.”
“My first semester, and I’m older than most of the students. My family is very protective.”
“And you wanted to go to UCLA. One of the largest schools in the nation. Interesting.” His mother lifted her cup and sipped.
“I’ve swam in a small pond all my life. I need to know what else is out in the world besides Annona and my family.”
“Traveling away from home will give you that.” His mother added, “Did you know that Brett has visited most large cities in the US and four continents?”
“He mentioned you all traveled when you were on stage. It’s a great experience for a child.”
“Aha.” Mrs. Gold shared a quiet, nervous laugh. “But we all need roots. I should have stayed put and let him develop some during the formative years. We can’t relive the past, though. He’s been hurt by others who only see him for his outside veneer. I hope you’ll get to know the person my son is deep down.”
“I want to,” Cory whispered.
“Here,” Mrs. Gold held out her hand. “Take this and when things seem out of sorts, remember, it’s those things we see with our heart that matter most.”
She gave Cory a sterling pin in the shape of two hearts. Cory pinned it to her sweater and murmured, “This is lovely.”
“Brett’s father gave it to me on our second date. We were in college and met when we auditioned for the fall play.”
“I didn’t know. That’s so romantic.”
Mrs. Gold nodded. “I traveled and acted because that was his father’s wish. When he was killed, I didn’t want his dream to be forgotten. It wasn’t strictly a selfish desire, but it took me a long time to understand, you can’t live someone else’s dream.”
“I guess not.”
“I hope you realize your dream, Cory.”
“Thank you.” Cory fingered the pin, contemplating her dreams, and how Brett had become a part of her life. Her future.
Brett poked his head back into the bedroom. “Mom, where did the albums go to?”
“Oh my. I think they’re on the other side of the bed. I must have forgotten. Estella and I were looking at them last week.”
“Figures.” He crossed the room, squatted down next to his mom’s bed, then stood up with an album. “Here we go.”
Mrs. Gold innocently smiled up at Brett, then looked over at Cory and winked.
~~~
Cory picked up another cloth shopping bag, and followed the other volunteers. Brett’s team, along with the coaches and cheerleaders, were taking part in a holiday feed-the-hungry program directed at families in North Texas. The Dallas Times along with the local news stations were there snapping photographs and grabbing players for interviews. Brett introduced her to Bill Rollins, his coach. The man had piercing, light blue eyes and made her feel teeny-tiny when his large hand swallowed hers. Coach Rollins recounted how Brett could outrun a scalded dog and be at the right place at the right time even with a reckless history off the field. He laughed a deep hearty chuckle about it being time to settle down, and she found herself smiling tightly when he slapped Bre
tt on the back with a wink in her direction.
Brett high-fived and fist-bumped a throng of men, their names swimming in her memory, but strangely he skirted around the cheerleaders. Even when more than a couple smiled brightly, whistled, and called out his name, he kept his distance, ducked out of the way, or blandly waved back.
A few blew kisses and one entwined her arm with his. “Stop playing hard to get,” she said and marched off.
Cory hoped to God, he wasn’t acting this way because she was here. Did he think she might not like his popularity? She had to find a way to tell him she wasn’t the jealous type. Not her. Oh yeah, just keep saying that one! She held her head up and began filling a bag with cans of food, following the path where the items were stocked for volunteers to choose from.
A group of reporters clustered around Brett. At first, she stood off to the side, admiring his charisma with the press as he laughed and cordially answered their questions. More than a few times his gaze strayed to her. Each contact had her pulse racing, and she inhaled, trying to catch her breath. Brett came across with a unique ability to maintain an endearing dose of humility—a surefire combination to garner fans.
Then his expression faltered. She’d been daydreaming and missed a few of the questions.
“So Brett, any more offensive moves outside the stadium?” a reporter asked.
He drew his brows together. “I’ve got my head into the upcoming game. We all do. No time for partying.”
“Oh come on, give us a glimmer. Just last month, you were featured with Miss September…up close and personal,” another reporter prodded him.
“That was a promo. Heather and I are just friends,” he replied with less than a candid expression, then he pointed at different reporter.
“Friends with benefits?” The last reported retorted, interrupting the round robin of questions.
Brett shot back. “Just friends.”
“Really, is that true, Heather?” the reported asked. The crowd parted and a smiling blonde, wearing a sexy Santa costume sauntered forward. Cory’s jaw dropped before he clamped it shut.
“My favorite tight end,” the woman declared and held out her hands. The act made her cleavage almost pop out of the low-cut neckline and the group of reporters chuckled. She hooked her hand around his arm and waved at the reporters while camera flashes went off.
“Brett, smile,” someone shouted. “Don’t you see who’s standing next to you?”
“You keeping him warm, Heather?” one of the reporters asked.
“Not me,” she said, smiling up at Brett. “Nice seeing you again.” She walked over to the next group of reporters, but Cory didn’t stare after her. She focused on the next round of questions.
Brett picked a reporter with his hand raised. “Are you healed and ready for Sunday?”
“Better than ever,” Brett smiled, though his face looked tense.
More questions flew as he pointed to reporter after reporter. Atypical from what she’d heard of the other interviews conducted with the players from Devils. Not that she’d taken notes, but these questions were barbed, aimed at drawing a point. Then one of the more serious reporters, a woman wearing a black turtleneck and black slacks, held up her microphone.
“Yes,” Brett motioned to her.
“Are you saying that you’re turning over a new leaf? Is this to get your head together for the divisionals? There’s high talk that your team is headed there and beyond.”
“I just want to play ball and everyone has a hiccup now and again. I’m over mine.”
The reported thanked him and then turned to her cameraman. “So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen, a leopard can change his spots. Or at least put them aside for the moment.”
“And cut.” The cameraman said.
“I wish we could find out who he’s dating,” the reporter mused while wrapping up the cord of her mic.
Cory swung around. The man she was dating was neck deep in skin-shredding gossip, or really his past was coming back to take a bite out of his posterior.
She felt a tap on her shoulder and jumped about two feet into the air. “Oh, hey. Finished with the interviews?” she asked Brett, her cheeks on fire.
“Do you mind?” he took the cloth bag from her hands. “What are your thoughts on the press?” He displayed a teasing smile.
“Not much. I see them all around.”
“Hard to escape on days like today. How about coming with me for the next round?”
“Okay.” She was still reeling and didn’t think to ask where. Brett marshaled her to a small group of reporters in a semicircle.
“This is the girl,” he said when they walked back into the spotlight. Literally, there was a circle of light on the floor from one of the crew holding up a photography lamp. Camera flashes went off as Brett drew her close to him, his arm casually draped over her shoulder. “See, I’ve no reason to be out on the streets. Not with Cory on my mind.”
“Can we quote you?” A bespectacled guy asked, scribbling on a pad.
“Absolutely.” Brett flashed a GQ smile, then squeezed her arm, canted over near her, and whispered, “After this, we’re out of here. Just a few more questions.”
She nodded, not trusting herself to say a thing.
As the previous reporters had jumped right on the bad boy persona he’d lived on and off the team, featuring ‘movie’ stars, out of control bar brawls, and an endless supply of arm candy, these reporters asked a slew of different questions. The five W’s of her and Brett hooking up. It felt strange…invasive, and she felt her face flushing hotter and hotter under the blazing light and the rapid-fire questions that kept coming. She gritted her teeth behind a smile and slowly answered the onslaught of questions about what it was like to date Brett.
When one of the reporter finally said, “Thank you,” Cory realized her head was about to burst open from a splitting migraine.
“Man, you were born to be on camera,” Brett said, giving her a side-hug, then released her and looked at his watch. “Time to leave.”
A late reporter walked up and asked about Miss December and if it was true that he was scheduled to do another layout—another ‘body’ issue. Cory clenched her jaw even tighter than before. She didn’t know exactly what that meant, but the sting in her eyes kept her from doing more than blinking and breathing.
He shook his head and managed to get out a ‘no comment,’ but not before a round of laughter erupted. She’d been a fool to think this meant anything to him. Of course he was trying to go for damage control. Why else would someone like Brett Gold be interested in her?
“Sorry. I should have warned you about the questions.”
“What time is it?” she asked.
“A little past ten-thirty.” Out in the parking lot, he reached for his cellphone and dialed as they walked. Opening the car door for her, he smiled down at her and mouthed “beautiful.” It didn’t mean a thing, now did it?
From outside Brett’s rich laughter spilled inside the car when she pulled down the visor to check her makeup. A few runaway tears hadn’t made a mess of her face. Gazing into the mirror, she noticed Brett had taken to leaning up against his trunk. What in blue blazes was he doing that for? Ah, privacy.
He laughed again and said something in a muffled tone that irked her to the core. Perhaps he was talking with Miss September or maybe it was another month of the year…going over plans for another hot body issue now that his PR was in order. Why else would he make it a point to bring her here and introduce her to the press and his coach? She bet, he probably shared about how he’d spent the night at a maternity ward, spinning a shroud to wear as the team hero. Her mind scrambled at her own naiveté, further fueling her temper to shot through the roof. Cory reached for her cell and pressed speed dial number one.
“What’s up?” Stephen asked.
“Please, can you come and get me. And not ask any questions. Not one.”
A pause, and
then her brother answered in a low, deep voice. “Sure. Where?”
“Give me a few minutes to figure that out.”
Cory eased open the car door. Brett was shaking his head and nodding, intently listening, and he began to rub the back of his neck before speaking. “I know. I’m trying. I’m not going to continue down that road. Agree to the terms for sportswear commercial as well. And the one for the car rental. I can do hurdles with the best of them. No. Didn’t get the email. What did it say?”
Within the overcrowded parking lot of the mall, she dodged around parks cars and holiday shoppers, heading for the mall entrance. Once inside, she’d call Stephen and tell him where to meet her. So far so good, except as soon as she grabbed the door handle she heard her name. In the glass panel to her side, she saw Brett walking toward her at a brisk clip.
Instantly she became wide-awake and shoved her way past two teenagers, apologizing, and into the department store. She circled around the counters and decided she couldn’t stay on an aisle. He’d see her. She moved into the section of men’s suits. A salesperson approached her, asking if she needed help, and she rapidly shook her head. She caught a glimpse of Brett in one of the angled mirrors and spun around but he wasn’t there.
For crying out loud!
She couldn’t figure out the source of the reflection that faced her, but with no time to study the mirror, she crouched down behind a row of wool suits and began crawling on the floor. Up ahead was the dressing room; all she needed to do was get inside and wait. Eventually he’d move past this section of the department store. Turning to scoot into the dressing room, she almost head-butted the salesperson’s knees. This time he had his arms crossed as he peered down at her, his foot tapping slowly.
Her mouth dropped open. “I lost my earring,” she sputtered, sitting back on her heels.
“Really,” he said, his brows furrowed. “You’re wearing two.”
“I’ve a third hole,” she replied indignantly. She did, but wasn’t about to explain that it had healed and she’d not gotten it re-pierced. Cautiously, she rose and straightened her sweater, then hugged her purse. She didn’t see Brett anywhere. “If you see it…”
