The Player Gets Coached

by Janet Nissenson

  “I don’t,” Delilah had interrupted bluntly. “Not this time. I have zero illusions and even fewer expectations when it comes to a guy like Finn. And forgive me for saying so, Desi, but I think when it comes to men I might just be a little more savvy than you are these days. So let me be the judge of how to proceed from here, okay? For once in my life, you need to let me make my own choices and trust that I know what I’m doing. I don’t need you to go all Big Sister on me, let alone act like you’re my mother or something.”

  Desiree had gasped softly at her younger sister’s admonition, most likely shocked that Delilah had rather firmly shut her down. She’d mumbled something indecipherable before quickly ending the call.

  Delilah had felt badly after that, well aware that Desiree was just looking out for her, and trying as always to protect her. But she wasn’t sorry for having stood her ground and refusing to listen to any more gossip about Finn. Even if every single tabloid story ever published about him was true - and she suspected they were - that still didn’t change the fact that she wanted and needed to form her own opinion about him. After spending time with him the previous evening, she had definitely seen a different side to the cocky, flirty player the rest of the world knew him to be. She wanted to find out for herself which was the real Finn, and without any more outside influences.

  Apparently, though, she had managed to really piss her sister off in the process, given that Desiree hadn’t responded to either the text, voice mail, or email she’d sent her since yesterday. Delilah wondered if she ought to make another attempt, reaching for her phone to tap out another text.

  But she resolutely pushed the phone away instead, assuring herself that it had been the right thing to do by telling Desiree to knock it off with all of her dire warnings and links to tabloid stories - not to mention her often smothering overprotectiveness. She was sorry that Desiree’s feelings had been hurt, but all of this had been long overdue. Desiree would get over it, hopefully tone the big sister act down a bit, and things would get back to normal.

  A few minutes later, however, she did pick her phone up, and scrolled through her messages until she found the ones from Finn. Three of them, to be exact, beginning with the brief but touching text he’d sent her within minutes of bidding her good night on Saturday.

  “Just wanted to let you know how special tonight was for me. Thank you for the pleasure of your company, Delilah. And I WILL get in touch with you again tomorrow - scout’s honor. And, yes, I was a Boy Scout, so you know it’s true.”

  She’d smiled, quickly replying with a text of her own.

  “Thank you again for a lovely evening, Finn. It was a pleasure for me, as well. I’ll look forward to hearing from you soon. And just remember - if you don’t follow through it will definitely be your loss and not mine.”

  He’d replied with a series of emojis - a phone, a thumbs-up, and a red heart - and she’d smiled, satisfied for now with his response.

  After her too-early phone conversation with Desiree, Delilah had savored her much-needed cup of coffee and had been ready to get changed into some workout attire when her phone had pinged with a new text. She’d grabbed it anxiously, hoping that it was from her sister, but instead there had been a new message from Finn.

  “Good morning. Hope you slept well, or that you’re still getting some rest. Does Friday night work for you? I know you mentioned weekends are better but doesn’t the weekend officially begin on Friday afternoon? Thought we could get dinner and then whatever else you’d like to do afterwards. Already checked the symphony website and looks like they’re doing the same program as last night, but we could go to a movie or a play or listen to some other kind of music. Whatever the lady desires, okay? Just let me know. Can’t wait to see you again – Finn.”

  Delilah had grinned after reading his text, telling herself that at the very least he’d made sure to follow through with the promise he had made her about calling again. Plus, she’d thought with a satisfied smile, he was once again leaving the particulars about their next date up to her.

  She had deliberately waited until after she’d changed clothes and was ready to head out the door to the gym before replying to his text. Oddly, she hadn’t wanted to run into him yesterday, had wanted to keep some distance between them until next Friday, and thereby give herself ample opportunity to analyze her feelings about this whole situation. Finn was definitely surprising her with both his gallantry and eagerness to please, and while he could just be playing a role for the sole purpose of getting into her panties, she honestly didn’t think so. Delilah had dated enough men over the past dozen years or so to sense when one was being sincere or not, and her finely honed senses were all telling her that Finn wasn’t just playing her. At least, she’d told herself darkly, he’d better not be - not unless he wanted to suffer the dire consequences that would be sure to befall him.

  Just as she had been heading out the front door of their condo building, she’d sent him a quick reply.

  “Friday will work, so long as it’s not until seven or so. Dinner sounds great, I adore French food, love foreign films with subtitles but I’m guessing that’s a little beyond what you’re willing to do, so maybe finding a club with some good jazz music might be nice.”

  He’d responded within seconds, and she had smirked as she pictured him gazing longingly at his phone as if willing an answering message to appear.

  “Sure, whatever you like. Do you have a favorite place for French food or would you like me to surprise you? I’ll ask around for ideas since I’m not much of an expert on the subject. There’s several jazz clubs around Fillmore Street. Any preference?”

  Delilah had been touched by his consideration, and this time didn’t make him wait very long for a reply.

  “My favorite French restaurant is a little place called Zazie. It’s not very fancy, more of a neighborhood place in Cole Valley, but the food is incredible. As far as the jazz club goes, any place you pick out will be fine with me. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

  Except for another of those thumbs-up emoticons, she hadn’t heard back from him again until this morning, when he had sent her a quick text wishing her a good morning and hoping that her day went well. She hadn’t had time to do much more than reply with a “same to you”. Gazing at the lavish floral arrangement that more or less dominated her office, however, guiltily reminded her that she owed him a much more personal response.

  “Your flowers arrived a few minutes ago and they took my breath away. Such a lovely surprise, Finn, and you already know that red is my favorite color. Thank you so much, you’ve more than made my day. No, make that my entire week. Hope your week is getting off to a good start, too.”

  She didn’t have to wait long for his reply, and found his obvious eagerness touching rather than annoying, as she so often did with the men who fawned over her.

  “Glad to know you liked the flowers. Believe it or not I actually picked them out myself, just sort of followed the florist around the shop and pointed at all the red ones I could find. And my week is getting off to the best start I can remember in a long time, thanks for asking.”

  She was about to tap out a reply when her intercom buzzed, eliciting a glare from her at this unwanted interruption. But Calvin rarely used the intercom, so she knew it would be for an important reason - or at least one that Calvin deemed important. She briefly considered ignoring the buzzer, obliging her PA to deal with whatever the pressing issue was on his own, but after realizing he wasn’t likely to give up that easily, she sighed and depressed the button.

  “What’s up?” she inquired briskly, making it clear by her tone that she really didn’t appreciate this interruption.

  “Sorry to bother you,” began Calvin in his most sincere voice, “but I swear I’ve tried every tactic in my dirty little bag of tricks to get rid of this guy, but he ain’t taking no for an answer, Boss Lady. It’s that smarmy dermatologist you dated earlier this month - the one you told me used more sk
in care products than you did, and who was constantly applying hand lotion during your dates. He’s insisting on holding until you’re available to speak to him. I’m really sorry, Delilah,” he added, and the fact that he used her name and not his usual form of address told her just how regretful he was.

  “It’s okay, Calvin,” she assured him. “Honestly, you do a great job keeping all of my spurned suitors at bay, and that’s definitely not in your job description. I shouldn’t expect you to do that sort of thing for me.”

  “Oh, but I usually enjoy the hell out of it,” he replied cheerfully. “Listening to their reactions when I concoct all of these excuses is hilarious, the bright spot of my day. But once in awhile they can be real a-holes like Doctor Moisturizer here.”

  “I know. Bryan is really full of himself. One of the many reasons I have no intention of going out with him again. Go ahead and put him through, Calvin. And - thanks, okay?”

  Calvin sounded both relieved and grateful. “Anytime, Boss Lady. Here’s Doctor Soft Hands for you now.”

  Delilah couldn’t hold back a chuckle at Calvin’s very inventive use of nicknames for her dates. She had no idea where he came up with such clever terms, but he was usually spot on with his descriptions. Calling Finn McHottie, for example, was pretty damned close to the truth. And referring to Bryan Cunningham as Doctor Moisturizer would have been hilarious if it wasn’t so true.

  She had met the attractive but ego-driven dermatologist at a fashion show to support a local women’s charity. Ma Belle Petite had donated several outfits to be worn by the models and then auctioned off, while Bryan had donated a skin rejuvenation treatment as one of the auction prizes. He’d been charming and witty, and since they had been seated at the same table had spent a good part of the event conversing. And when he’d asked for both her number and a date, she’d agreed easily enough.

  But it had only taken a couple of dates to realize that he bored her to distraction, and that any sort of future relationship with the good looking but dull doctor was simply out of the question. She’d been making excuses, avoiding his calls, and hoping he would take the hint and leave her alone. Now, unfortunately, it was time for her to face the music, and do what she had become quite accomplished at - giving men she was no longer interested in seeing again the boot.

  “Bryan, good morning,” she greeted him hurriedly. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the chance to return your calls, but I’ve been working like a fiend these past weeks, have hardly had a moment to come up for air. How have you been?”

  Delilah may have acquired a reputation as something of a maneater, but she prided herself on always minding her manners, and always being polite. And even though she planned on kicking Bryan to the figurative curb any minute now, she would do so graciously and with a minimum of fuss.

  “Frustrated as hell trying to get in touch with you, that’s how I’ve been,” groused Bryan. “I’ve been almost desperate to talk to you, Delilah, wanted to tell you that I’ve got tickets to the symphony this Friday night. I don’t know if you’re aware but the program is Saint-Saëns, and I thought you’d like to attend with me. I understand part of the program includes Samson and Delilah. We could do dinner first, of course. What do you say?”

  She shut her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose between forefinger and thumb as if to ward off a headache. ‘Oh, damn,’ she muttered to herself. ‘This is going to be tougher than I thought, isn’t it?’

  Out loud, however, she didn’t mince words and got straight to the point.

  “That’s a lovely thought, Bryan,” she told him sincerely. “However, I’m afraid I’ve already attended the same performance this past weekend. As for Friday, well, I’m not available then. I am sorry.”

  “Oh.”

  Bryan sounded genuinely surprised, taken aback at her refusal, but quickly re-grouped, evidently not wanting to take no for an answer.

  “Well, we don’t have to attend the symphony, of course. There’s a production of Sunday In The Park With George playing at the Orpheum that I understand is quite good. I’m sure I can get tickets for Saturday night since you’re busy on Friday,” he offered.

  “No, Bryan. Thank you, but no. I’m - well, seeing someone at the moment. So I think it’s best if you don’t call me again,” she stated in a rather no-nonsense manner.

  The dermatologist, though, was proving to be more difficult to dump than most of her rejected suitors.

  “Seeing someone?” he asked in disbelief. “I don’t understand, Delilah. You’ve been seeing me. At least that was my understanding. I thought we had a wonderful time together, that our relationship was progressing nicely, and more than ready to go to the next level. I - I wanted to introduce you to my parents in a couple of weeks.”

  Delilah clenched her free hand into a fist, resisting the urge to pound it against her desk. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to remain calm as she responded to Bryan’s rather startling announcement.

  “We had two dates, Bryan,” she reminded him gently. “Not counting the event where we met, of course. And while I did have a nice time, I’m afraid that’s as far as it went for me. I am sorry, but I’m just not interested in seeing you again.”

  Bryan spluttered and stammered for several more minutes, his pleas for another chance gradually morphing into a full-blown whine, and it was only her good breeding that prevented Delilah from snapping at him to man up and stop acting like a spoiled little boy.

  “Look, Bryan, I really do have to go now,” she told him brusquely, her patience nearing the very end of its rope. “I’m sorry if you feel like I used you, as you just accused me of doing, but I am never anything but honest with the men I date. So this is me being honest, okay? I’m dating someone else now, I have no interest in seeing or hearing from you again, so make sure you lose my number. Got all that? Good. Have a nice day.”

  As she slammed down the receiver, the sound of applause greeted her, and she glanced up in annoyance to find Calvin hovering in the doorway, grinning in amusement.

  “Well, I don’t think we’ll be hearing from Doctor Moisturizer any longer,” he chortled gleefully. “You could give lessons, you know, in how to get rid of unwanted boyfriends. Some women would pay good money to learn from an expert like yourself.”

  Delilah glared at her PA. “I’m not an expert,” she growled. “And it’s usually a lot easier than what I just had to go through. Some men are just denser than others, I suppose. Or think that they’re such a gift to the world that their tender egos won’t let them believe that they’re actual big old losers.”

  Calvin chuckled, his dark eyes twinkling with amusement. “You know what, Boss Lady? Forget all the warnings I gave you a little while ago about Finn McHottie and how you need to watch yourself around him. I think I should be the one giving him the warning, and tell him he’s no match for Little Ms. Maneater here. I wonder if he has any idea at all what he’s getting himself into.”

  Chapter Eleven

  “You’re doing that staring thing again. Not that it isn’t flattering, of course, but I think your food is probably getting cold.”

  Delilah’s amused voice shook Finn out of his reverie, and he grinned at her apologetically.

  “I’d say I was sorry but you’d know I was lying,” he replied, chuckling. “And as delicious as my dinner is, I’ve gotta say yet again that you’re the most luscious thing I’ve seen in a real long time. Maybe of all time.”

  Her cheeks pinkened a little at his fervently murmured words, her eyes darkening as they noticed the heated way he kept looking at her. Finn grimaced as he realized that nearly every other male in this restaurant was also sneaking looks at her, some of them none too discreetly. Little wonder, he thought faintly, given how smoking hot she looked this evening.

  She had texted him yesterday to advise that the dress code at this particular restaurant was very much on the casual side so that he could forego the suit and tie - unless, of course, he really wanted to wear
one. He’d appreciated both her joke and her advice, and had quickly sent Max an urgent message asking for his advice on what to wear. In reply, Max had texted over an address near Union Square with instructions to meet him there in exactly an hour’s time.

  The address had ended up being that of the Armani boutique, and Max had wasted little time in selecting a pair of slim fitting black jeans, a light gray V-neck cashmere sweater, and black suede loafers. Max hadn’t bothered to look at price tags, and while Finn had easily been able to afford the new clothes, he’d been a little taken aback at the grand total.

  “Two thousand bucks for a pair of jeans and a sweater and some shoes?” Finn had asked in disbelief. “Honestly, Max? We couldn’t have met in, say, the sale section at Macy’s?”

  Max had turned his nose up at the idea. “We could have,” he’d replied snootily. “If you hadn’t cared about making a good impression on your date tomorrow evening, that is. And, yes, I realize this was a bit of a splurge, but these are good, classic pieces that you’ll be able to wear for a variety of occasions, and that will last a long time.”

  Finn had shaken his head. “Delilah said the place was casual. What if I’m overdressed in this get-up?”

  “Trust me, you won’t be,” Max had assured confidently. “Besides, I’m thinking that Ms. Ferris’s idea of casual and yours are two very different things. After all, there’s casual and then there’s - well, the way you look right now.”

  Finn hadn’t bothered to change out of his baggy cargo shorts and a T-shirt emblazoned with the Volcano Vodka logo prior to meeting Max. Nor had he bothered to shave yet today, though he was fairly sure he’d at least run a comb through his hair at some point.

  Max had glanced disparagingly at the well-worn pair of Vans that Finn had shoved his feet into just before leaving his condo. “And I hope this goes without saying, Finn, but please wear socks with those new suede loafers. Black ones. I assume you own some?”