“Now.” Evan sweetened his coffee. “You’ve been running an uptempo Triangle offense.” His ho-hum tone was a red flag taunting Trent’s pride. “To effectively run the Triangle, you need at least two future Hall-of-Famers and at least two potential All-Stars. You know our roster. Chaos – ”
“Is fast and sloppy, at least the way you run it.” He was losing his grip on patience. He’d run the Triangle at Holy Southern because he’d recruited for it. He didn’t have the time to rebuild the Flash from scratch. He’d examined the locker room and come up with a different plan. He could’ve told Evan what that plan was. Lacking the time to bring everyone cohesively on board, it was more efficient to push things forward – more efficient, but more annoying, since everyone was helpfully supplying him with advice. He hadn’t counted on the annoying part.
“That was last season. Jack won’t pay for high quality ponies. Most of our starters didn’t make the second squad at the team that drafted them.” Again, Evan’s heartfelt honesty and tunnel vision rankled. It’d be nice if someone expected the Reverend to come in and shake things up. “It’s why we need the Dooley Foundation. They help these guys believe in themselves. If you’re going to come in and run players until their knees blow or their Achilles snap – ” Now Evan’s gloves were off, punching at Trent’s role in Randy’s injuries. “ – you won’t have a job come Christmas. Believe in this team and we’ll take you places.”
He was offering Trent a broken down school bus in a race against Formula One cars. This team had relied on luck and pluck for too long. The Reverend needed more to meet his obligations with Archie and Randy.
“Let’s be clear.” Anger sliced Trent’s words into hard, sharp pieces. “I’m open to running Chaos if the team can maintain an uptempo pace and run it crisply. But I’ll get rid of players who can’t perform.” He stood and tossed a twenty on the table. “Jack’s right. Players are a commodity. Even you.”
~*~
Cora sat in the conference room of the Dooley Foundation studying a picture her father had drawn. To the casual observer, it looked like a psychedelic flower bed with a thick and twisted root system shown in a cut-away. The flowers were white, their twining vines loaded with leaves. One-third of the flower bed was cast in shadowy moonbeams, the rest in fading sunset.
In reality, this was one set of her father’s crib notes. He’d created at least a dozen drawings, each featuring a different flower. Daddy had been paranoid his secrets would be stolen – not just the secrets of his twisted coaching style, but the names on his client list as well. Hollywood paid top dollar to expose celebrity underbellies. And so he’d created a file system with delicate, colored pencil strokes. Brilliant.
Each bundle of the five roots in the picture had at its heart a naked woman of different shapes and sizes. Yeah, that was Daddy, all right. He’d loved women indiscriminately.
These women lay arching on their bellies, legs bent and raised, arms extended behind to clasp ankles – a bow yoga pose. If you looked closely, you could make out one large letter along the lines and curves of each feminine root. The letters here spelled Trust. Stalks thrust above ground from their feet and ankles. On every stalk, on every branching vine, Daddy had carefully etched in the names of his programs to help his clients trust – Free Falling, No Proof, The Chain. There were many more. Hollywood wasn’t a trusting place.
Names were written in tiny strokes to represent the veins on the leaves. One large, healthy green leaf had Cora’s name on it. The stalk was titled Safe Circle. One of the crumpled leaves also had her name on it. The vine that held that leaf was titled Truth or Dare. She’d passed one test and not the other. And that’s where her admiration of her father’s brilliance ended.
When she was a junior in high school, her friend, Lucy, had dared her to steal a blouse from the mall. At first, Cora refused. She had Daddy’s credit card in her wallet. She could buy whatever she wanted. As they continued to shop, Lucy wouldn’t let up about how cool Elyssa was because she stole things all the time. Cora was the coolest girl at school, not Elyssa. To prove it, she stole a blouse, wrapping it around her chest and buttoning up her leather jacket. Cora’s pulse had pounded with fear, and then triumph as she pushed through the mall doors to the parking lot. She’d nearly fainted to find her father and the mall police waiting for them outside.
“You paid Lucy to set me up?” Cora shrieked when her father told her the entire afternoon was a test of her character. “What kind of father are you?”
“The kind who points out to you that friendship can’t be bought or stolen.” He pointed at Lucy. “What kind of friend sells you out for money? You need to learn who you can trust and who you can’t.”
She and Lucy had to do community service for a week, during which time they’d both been forced to wear outdated clothing their parents picked out for them. Lucy never spoke to her again, despite Cora trying to explain it was just as much her fault as it was Cora’s. How could Cora be to blame when it was all her father’s doing?
His lesson failed. Instead of making her choosier about who she trusted. She trusted no one.
Cora wondered if those yet to be named additional Rule siblings had gone through the same hell she had. Not that it mattered. She was only studying the picture to find ideas on how to build trust between Trent and the Flash players. She’d talked herself off the ledge in terms of sabotaging her inheritance. She’d stay at the Dooley Foundation until she made her sales quota. Then she’d move on and let Amber deal with whatever siblings came out of the woodwork.
“I thought we agreed Coach Parker wasn’t to be touched.” Amber entered the conference room holding a stack of colorful folders and wearing the latest Marc Jacob black cutaway pumps. “Looks like there was a lot of touching going on last night.”
“I can’t take part in this conversation.” Blue followed her in. “It breaks the brother code.”
It’d been too much to hope for that they hadn’t checked the L.A. Happenings column this morning. It was a must-read for Hollywood. Lyle Lincoln had a network the CIA envied. He’d posted two pictures of Cora from the night before – one with Archie, one with Trent. She had to admit, the photo with Trent was smokin’ hot. He looked about to combust.
“There was a situation,” Cora began cryptically, rushing on when Amber opened her mouth. “Which you’ll be happy to know I resolved.” She took in Blue’s skeptical expression. “That picture was more a test of wills.” Cora versus the Reverend. She’d chalk yesterday’s match up to herself. He’d kissed her. He’d cussed. What else was Trent hiding under the guise of the Reverend?
Not that she planned to find out. He was a nice guy. He’d waited up for his father and warned a potential Jezebel – her – away. He’d resisted a second kiss when he clearly wanted to submit. Back when she didn’t know any better, she’d eaten guys like him for breakfast. She liked her men straightforward and uncomplicated – bad-asses who made no excuses for their sins.
“No more drinks with Flash coaches,” Amber warned. “And no more pictures.”
“Hey, I signed Trent as a client.” Cora’s chin came up. “I would’ve told you last night, but you were on the no-sex lecture as if that’s the only way I interact with men.”
There was an uncomfortable silence, the kind where Cora realized – again – that her image of herself and her siblings’ image of her didn’t jibe. Despite Blue’s having been a serial dater – a week had been a long time for him to be monogamous – they didn’t approve of Cora’s having friends with benefits instead of boyfriends. They didn’t believe her when she claimed that guys came with too much baggage.
“Coach Parker can’t be your client.” Amber tapped her cell phone before Cora could modulate a protest. “Evan met him for coffee this morning and texted me that Trent doesn’t believe in the Rules.”
Cora’s inner bitch drew a calming breath. “He doesn’t. But he didn’t speak fast enough and Jack said he’d pay his retainer.”
“Nicely done.
” Blue gestured that they should move along. “Can we finish this staff meeting? My calendar is packed today.”
Amber ignored Blue. “You need to tell me as soon as you sign up a client of Coach Parker’s caliber. We need full disclosure between us.”
“Like you tell me anything,” Cora muttered. Had it just been yesterday morning she was feeling the sisterly love?
Amber ignored Cora. “We’ll need to think of ways we can make Coach Parker realize that running players until they drop with career-ending injuries isn’t the way to manage this team.” Worry creased her brow, making Cora suspect that her sister was concerned her husband would be another in a long string of player sacrifices laid at the altar of Trent’s success.
Blue’s teacup poodle, Mr. Jiggles, raced Brutus down the hallway, creating the delicately thunderous pitter-patter of tiny feet.
A moment later, Gemma entered the conference room. “This just came via messenger.” She slid a check onto the table.
Cora leaned forward and read the signature. “Vivian Gordon. Are we double dipping?”
Amber flipped the check over and pushed it to the side of the table as Gemma clomped out.
“Oh, look,” Blue said with forced cheer. “The first item on our agenda is Vivian Gordon. Piece of cake.” Blue passed Cora a sheet of paper with Viv’s name on it. “Get her a dog. Somehow make her see things as if she was in Jack’s shoes. Introduce her to some really great men.”
Cora didn’t bother reading her brother’s notes. “A dog won’t work for her. She loves Jack.” And that check…
“But Viv’s not a nun. Let’s introduce her to someone she can’t resist.” Amber used that perky smile of hers that set Cora’s teeth on edge. “Coach Parker is perfect. Strong enough to handle Viv.”
The words, “hell, no,” came to mind. Cora shelved the thought. So she’d kissed Trent. So she’d massaged his feet and snuck glances at his impressive package, the hard length of which was imprinted like memory foam between her hips. She was taking time out from men to focus on her role at the Dooley Foundation. The sooner she met her sales quota, the sooner she could move on, away from the rest of Daddy’s sordid past. “Forget for a moment that Trent Parker is the party-pooping Reverend – ”
“Ironic given last night’s photo opp,” Amber quipped.
“Viv loves Jack,” Cora repeated stubbornly, trying to ignore the fact that she’d broken the girl code by sleeping with him. If she’d known their estrangement involved feelings on Viv’s part, she’d never have accepted his overtures. “Viv tries not to show it, but she does. And that check – ”
“Jack doesn’t love Viv, at least not enough to make it work.” Amber patted Cora’s hand as if it was Cora’s heart that was broken. Then she adjusted the pleated, fan-like cuffs of her pink button-down. The blouse was new, by Aloysha, and nearly broke Cora’s heart.
Before Daddy died, Cora had been offered an apprenticeship with Aloysha in Paris. If she bought one of Aloysha’s blouses today, she wouldn’t have to deal with Amber’s censure and scrutiny. She wouldn’t have to deal with Daddy’s other progeny. It was tempting on principle alone. And then that three million dollar payout poked holes in her moral fortitude.
“About Viv and Jack,” Blue said slowly. “There’s still plenty of spark between them. I saw them together several weeks ago. Jack reached for Viv like he needed her more than money.”
“Break up sex.” Cora shrugged, having been on the end of Jack’s sexual hunger more than a few times.
“No.” Blue shook his head. “This was more than lust. It was love. He looked into her eyes as if he couldn’t live without her.”
Jack had never looked Cora in the eyes. He had skills as a lover, but he was a shit person. Who did the deed and didn’t look his partner in the eyes?
“He must have been drunk,” Amber said.
“He only drinks heavy at Flash games.” Cora ignored the shocked double-takes from her siblings. “It’s not Vivian who needs life coaching. It’s Jack.”
Amber sat back in her chair. “We’re not touching Jack.” The way she said it scraped along Cora’s spine like nails on a clean chalkboard.
Although Cora had long ago given up the idea of a traditional relationship, that didn’t mean she didn’t believe it couldn’t work for others. Men were stubborn and obtuse when it came to matters of the heart. Was she the only person in the room who realized love sometimes needed a helping hand? Cora pointed to the check. “What about that?”
“That’s insurance,” Amber said cryptically, raising her palm when Cora would have argued further. “Jack hired us. He pays the bills, remember?”
But he didn’t call the shots. And sometimes, neither did Amber.
Chapter 8
Cora was still telling herself Jack didn’t call the shots two hours later when she’d been summoned to the man’s office.
“It’s come to my attention that there’s a conflict of interest between you two,” Jack snapped. The circles beneath his eyes seemed more pronounced than they had the night before. He looked like he’d been on a long weekend bender in Vegas.
Was he jealous? Did Cora want him to be?
That would be no on both counts.
“There’s no conflict.” Trent frowned. In a red Flash polo shirt and black basketball shorts he looked more like a man she’d fool around with than he had in his cheap sports jacket.
“I read something online that says otherwise,” Jack grumbled.
“Like a Facebook post?” Trent naïvely asked.
“No!” Jack’s anger bounced off office walls.
“I don’t do social media,” Trent admitted, causing Jack’s jaw to drop. If Cora hadn’t peered through the cracks in Trent’s sanctimonious veneer, she might have believed he avoided sites like Facebook and Twitter out of principle. She suspected it was something more pedantic, like him not wanting to waste time.
“There’s a rumor on a gossip website about us,” she said for Trent’s benefit, then turned to Jack, who focused on a point above her shoulder. The man never looked her in the eyes. “But that’s all it is. A rumor.”
“It makes me rethink involving the Dooley Foundation with this organization.” Jack’s voice rumbled like a freight train, rapidly gaining speed.
“You know this town thrives on rumors. There’s nothing behind this one.” She swiveled toward Trent. “Right, Reverend?”
“Nada,” Trent agreed, not quite looking at her either. All this not looking at her was starting to get under her skin. “But I have issue with the Dooley Foundation being involved with my team. This might be as good a time as any to sever ties.”
“I have to agree,” Jack picked up a pen, as if ready to sign the papers terminating the organization’s relationship with the Dooley Foundation.
“You’d do that? Over a rumor?” Cora gripped the seams of her skirt. There was more riding on this than she wanted to admit. Her inheritance. Amber’s respect. Her pride. She wasn’t one to back away from a fight. Jack wanted to play hard ball? Fine. She’d swing for the fences. “I think we both know that some rumors are based on speculation, while other relationships never get picked up by the rumor mill.” Cora glared at Jack. Let him wonder if she’d leak something about them having sex.
Jack’s dark eyes finally landed on her face squarely. They narrowed, as if calculating the harm Cora might cause.
Lots.
Finally, the Flash owner said, “We’ll let things stand the way they are for now.”
Trent raised his eyebrows, but wisely said nothing.
Jack returned his attention to his computer screen.
Recognizing a dismissal, Cora stood. Walking and texting was as easy as breathing for her. She sent Amber a text message: We may need to cash in Viv’s insurance policy sooner than you think. Cora didn’t kid herself. Jack wasn’t one to submit to blackmail for long. If Jack was paying for Vivian’s Dooley Foundation programs, Vivian could pay for Jack’s with that check Amber had called their
insurance policy. In order to protect their Flash billings, they needed Jack to be happy and grateful to the Foundation. The best way to do that was to make sure the man was happy and that Viv was happy. Cupid, in the form of Cora, was about to strike the Gordons.
She was halfway down the hall to the front door of Flash headquarters when Trent caught up to her.
“Hey.” He stretched his long legs to block her exit. “No hard feelings, but I don’t need any more bad press. This is goodbye.”
She latched onto his offered hand as if they were about to arm wrestle. “Seeing as how I’m still going to be involved with the team, let’s just agree to keep clear of each other as we go about our business, Reverend.” With one last shake of his hand, she released him.
The unhappy set of Trent’s mouth told her he didn’t accept her terms. He’d be looking for any opening to get rid of her.
Game on.
~*~
“If you want your responsibilities to increase, Gemma, you’ll have to move into life coaching.” Amber sat behind her desk. Outside her window was a killer view of the Santa Monica Promenade.
Gemma wished she and her boots were walking the Promenade in search of coffee. “I’d like to apply for the position.”
“It means you’ll have to be nice to people,” Amber said gently.
Gemma’s insides twisted like her mother’s macramé knots. “I am nice to people. I’m nice to you. And Maddy.” Blue’s fiancée.
Amber’s raised brows indicated that wasn’t enough.
“You said the Foundation needs help,” Gemma reminded her. “We’re growing too fast.”
The Foundation’s CEO sighed wearily. “I don’t have the time to train you right now. I’d have to assign you to – ”
Don’t say Cora. Don’t say Cora. Don’t say Cora.
“ – Cora.”
“But she’s a – ”
“Bitch. Yes, we all know that. Even Cora.”
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 7
