To Hell in a Coach Bag

by M. J. Schiller

  I scooted back, preparing myself. "Okay, bring it." The next twenty minutes was a workout to the extreme. She poured it on, and I hustled to keep pace. She worked me all over the court. I was barely able to return most of her shots but got lucky on a few. The more time that elapsed, the more intense our play became, and the less frequent our banter. She seemed to be working out her own private demon, and I happened to be the pathetic chump on the other side of the net. "Water break?" I asked finally, trying to keep the begging out of my voice.

  She nodded without saying anything, and I turned to head to the fountain I noticed outside the fence. "Wait. Here," she called, offering an extra bottle of water she had. She tossed it, and I caught it easily, joining her on the bench at the center line. The water was cold, and oddly sweet. It slid down my throat with numbing relief. She took a long pull on her water, and then wiped her forehead with the back of the hand holding the bottle. I silently begged her to take off those glasses so I could get another peek at the incredible eyes that had been following me around for months in my dreams. She handed me a towel. I mopped the back of my neck gratefully.

  "Shoo!" I looked at her sideways, frowning. "You're hardly even breaking a sweat."

  "On the contrary. This has been the best match I've had in years."

  I tipped my head in her direction. "I like the outfit."

  "Thank you. It's Sam's tennis outfit, actually." She shook her head a little, then mumbled under her breath. "Who brings two tennis outfits on a last minute trip?"

  She moved her head, and I could tell she was checking on her friend again. It was the only thing that distracted her from her cool, hard focus on the court the whole time we played.

  I turned, too. Now the blonde was leaning against the trunk of a huge oak tree with her hands behind her back. The guy hitting on her had his hand on the trunk above her head and was leaning in and speaking, a huge grin on his face. Idiot. Even I could tell he was going nowhere. She was the kind of woman who batted men around like cat toys. My princess, on the other hand, is not at all that way. In fact, I would wager it would take some work for me to get her to play with me at all.

  "Sam, my friend there, doesn't offer much of a challenge as far as tennis goes. God bless her." She smiled, seeming amused by the thought of it, then took another drink from her bottle as she leaned back against the bench. "Every time we play she breaks a nail and we have to spend fifteen minutes in time out while she goes through the four stages of grief." She chuckled quietly, but her smile wavered a little. Again, I sensed something was troubling her.

  I tried to steer her away from the subject, in case she and her friend had a tiff or something. "So, what brings you to Denver?"

  She stared out over the courts, presumably watching the others play, and I didn't think she was going to answer me at first.

  "My father's death."

  So that was what was upsetting her. "I'm so sorry."

  "Thanks," she said shortly. She bounced the tennis ball, then stood as she snatched it out of the air. "Ready for more, McCord?"

  I doubt it. But my traitorous lips formed the word, "Sure." I got up and took my position at the opposite side of the net. It would appear I was to be her whipping boy today, an outlet for her grief. So be it. I could think of a lot worse fates.

  Chapter 15

  Danielle

  I nearly fainted when that deep, sexy voice slid into my ear. "Haven't we met before?"

  Man, he looked good. He wore some long, navy Nike shorts with a white stripe on the side and a white T-shirt with the name of some bar in Key West. That gorgeous blond hair I remembered was still being worn longer, and the habit he had of brushing it out of his killer green eyes had my heart skipping like a smooth rock over water. For some reason, he didn't make me feel nervous, like most men I didn't know did. He seemed to exude a sort of peacefulness that made you comfortable in his presence. I even found myself flirting with him a little, which was way out of my normal behavior pattern. But a playfulness existed between us that was irresistible.

  When he took the court with me, I thought, this is going to be fun. To watch that body in action... well, it was going to be a treat, for sure. At first I kept things simple, stroking the ball with nice, easy swings. He returned them with little effort, so I decided to test him. I put a bit more zing on it and sent it down the line. To my surprise, his quick reflexes and agility made him a good partner. After a while, I turned up the notch again, but it finally took all of my skill to get it past him.

  "Hey, Dani. Did you find a friend?" Sam yelled far too loudly for my comfort. I set the ball on the court and went to the fence where she stood with her latest stud-muffin.

  "Yeah. Look who I ran into."

  Sam studied him, and her eyes widened. "No freakin' way. You're that roadie guy."

  "Yes, I am."

  "Tucker McCord, I'd like you to meet my best bud and partner in crime, Samantha N..." Sam was giving me a weird look and sliding her head back and forth slightly, "Nanter, Samantha Nanter," I repeated lamely. Sam rolled her eyes.

  Tucker took this all in. "Nice to meet you, Miss... Nanter." He winked at me, then turned to greet Sam's friend. "And you're..."

  "Oh," he said belatedly, "Phillipe. My name's Phillipe."

  He had a suaveness about him that made me distrust him immediately, and his teeth sparkled out of his olive skin like a game show host's. His French accent most women would have found sexy, but I found it suspicious.

  I waved at him. "I'm Danielle. Nice to meet you."

  "Umm... Dani, I came over here to remind you it's almost time for that call you needed to make."

  "Oh... thanks."

  "Sure." Sam turned to Tucker. "Small world, huh?"

  "It sure is."

  Sam and Phillipe walked away. She threw a backward glance my way to make sure I got the message. We watched them amble off down the sidewalk.

  "That was some kind of signal, wasn't it?" Tucker said without turning.

  I was shocked he picked up on it. "Here we thought we were being so subtle. You're very observant, Tucker."

  "It comes in handy in my line of business."

  From where he stood, Tucker blocked the sun, so I slipped off my glasses to study him better. "What, so you can toss innocent girls out of concert halls?"

  He turned and held up his hands in protest. "Wait now," he gestured up the sidewalk and back to me, "you two were hardly innocent."

  I had to laugh. "You're right. And you pegged us right away, didn't you?" I glanced toward Phillipe and Sam as they wound their way up a set of stairs. I began to gather our balls.

  "It was a little obvious," he said, as he bent to retrieve a ball. "And besides, I wasn't talking about the work I do for Chase. I'm also an attorney. A lawyer has to be able to read people to be a success."

  I shot him a look of surprise. "A lawyer/roadie? That has to be a first."

  He chuckled, putting the ball he retrieved into the canister I held. He brushed my fingertips as he pulled back, and a tingle ran through me. "I suppose it is."

  "Why, Tucker McCord," I said in a Southern accent I didn't know I had. "You're full of surprises."

  He raised his eyebrows. "That I am." He seemed to imply that he had more up his sleeve. With an effort, I tore my eyes from him and searched for Sam again. Phillipe was unlocking a room, and she was waving to me frantically from the balcony.

  "Oh shit. Shoot." I corrected, scrambling to get my cell phone from my bag. "Sorry," I added, punching in the number. Sam answered with a hint of irritation.

  "Won't take no for an answer, eh?" I responded, still watching her.

  "Oh, no!" she faked. "Really, Mom? Is he okay?"

  "Going for the whole dad-had-a-heart-attack angle? Tsk. Tsk. That one's cruel."

  "Really? And what do the doctors say?"

  "Man, you are the Queen of Excuses." I smirked. "You should turn it into a business. 1-800-4SA-MXQS."

  "Of course, Mom. I'll be there right away."
/>   The receiver went dead, and I snapped it shut. I dropped it into my bag and turned to Tucker again. "Listen, thank you so much for playing with me. It really was fun." He took his eyes from me a second to look toward the balcony.

  "Uhh, was it part of the plan for your friend Sam to go into the room with the guy?"

  I spun around. Phillipe gripped Sam's elbow and seemed to be trying to haul her in there while she shook her head and no doubt added more convincing details to her story.

  "Uh-oh." I scrambled to gather my stuff. "Look, I'm sorry to have to run—"

  "You're not going to try and handle this yourself, are you?" he sputtered.

  "Oh." I opened the gate to leave the courts. "It's okay. I'm used to this. Bye." I rushed along the sidewalk, inwardly cursing Sam for spoiling my time with Tucker.

  "That may be," Tucker called after me. He snatched a towel I left behind, then rushed to catch up, "but I'm not comfortable with you going alone. Dani, wait."

  His voice became fainter as I hit full panic mode and raced up the stairs. When I got to the top, I was out of breath. I could see Phillipe had now worked his way to angry and was gesturing wildly, getting closer and closer to Sam. She made an attempt to turn and leave, but he yanked her back by her arm. I tried to scream, but, as winded as I was, my voice only came out faintly at first. I inhaled deeply and was able to get out a half-scream, half-yelp and draw their attention. "Sam! Sam!"

  As I stormed up, Phillipe released her, taking a step toward his doorway. Sam turned on her heel and barreled in my direction. "Nice save, Dani," she said sarcastically as she sped past me. I stood there openmouthed. "Sorry to break up your little flirt session with the hunky roadie and all."

  I went from panicked to pissed in one easy swing. I ran down the steps after her. When I reached her, I spun her around. "Damn it, Sam! I deserve a life, too!" I screamed, then I realized Sam was actually really scared this time. "Are you okay? Did he hurt you?"

  Tucker took this moment to turn the landing below us and catch us, frozen, on the stairs.

  "I'm fine," Sam said scathingly, her eyes boring into mine. She shook me off and marched down the remaining steps past Tucker, who had to move to get out of her way.

  He peered up at me and gave me a minute to exhale before querying, "Are you okay?"

  My legs shook. I dropped to a sitting position in the middle of the staircase. "I'm... fine." He climbed up and sat next to me.

  "You're trembling." He put his arm over my shoulder. "Did he scare you? He didn't hurt you or threaten you, did he?" he added, an edge to his voice. He peered up the stairwell, although he couldn't see anything.

  "No. No. I'm just... mad. One of these days... I'm afraid of how this could have all turned out."

  "I understand," he said tactfully, not adding my good friend might get what she deserved for leading men on.

  I was embarrassed by my part in the scene. What must he think of me? That, like Sam, I played with men? That it was all a game to me? I jumped to my feet at the thought, having to grab the railing to keep from sprawling. "Tucker, I'm sorry for getting you involved in all this. Really, I am." I ran off before he could say anything. The tears that had, of late, come so readily to my eyes, welled up again.

  "Damn it! I didn't need this bullshit today," I fumed, jabbing at my tears as I entered the hallway that crossed to the other side of the building. "Not today."

  Chapter 16

  Samantha

  I paced in my room, feeling guilty as shit for giving Dani a hard time, and messing things up with that man of hers. He sure was hot. And he seemed nice, too. And Dani deserved every bit of happiness. Maybe I was going to Hell in a Coach bag. I sat on the end of the bed, running my hand through my hair. As I glanced up, I caught my reflection in the mirror. I stood and took a hard look at myself, then turned to get a view from the side. I still looked good. I did. I was tight. The girls were prominently showcased, and though I'd hit my thirties, okay, a few years ago, I'd successfully fought off wrinkles, for the most part. Anyway, a guy wasn't thinking about counting wrinkles when he was around a body like mine.

  But I was getting too old for this, too tired of it. I didn't even know why I began doing it in the first place. Some weak attempt to get back at Bill? Like he cared what I did, or even knew about it. But, somewhere in my brain, was I keeping score? And really, it didn't matter, because nothing I could do would equal what Bill did to me. I think that's why we had such a civil relationship, because if I was ever to really feel the anger, I'd probably kill the bastard.

  The phone rang, and I jumped to grab it, hoping it was Dani. Caller ID said, "Kyle."

  "Hey ya, gorgeous."

  "Hey yourself," I returned, sinking onto the bed. His voice sounded good. Too good for a girl who'd sworn off men.

  "You sound upset. What's up?"

  "You're in Canada, and you can hear I'm upset?" I mumbled.

  "No, actually, I'm in Denver reffing an Avalanche game."

  I sat straight up in my bed. He was here. In this city.

  "So what's bothering you?"

  "Oh. I was a jerk to Dani." I sighed, flopping back on the mattress.

  "No way. You guys seem like two peas in a pod."

  "Yeah, thus the big jerk reference," I spat.

  "Maybe I shouldn't have called."

  I flew up to a sitting position, giving myself a head rush. "No, Kyle. Don't go!...Kyle? Are you there?"

  There was a pause. "I'm here."

  I exhaled. "I'm sorry. Now I'm being a big jerk to you, too."

  "We all have our off days."

  I hesitated. "I'm glad you called."

  "You are?" he said hopefully.

  "Yeah."

  "So... what happened with Dani? If you want to tell me, that is."

  I somehow thought he'd be less than thrilled by a recount of my morning's activities, especially considering I yelled at Dani when all she did was try to help me get out of an entanglement I started myself. And add to that the fact she had a eulogy to give in about an hour.

  "I don't know. I snapped at her," I responded vaguely.

  "Apologize. She'll forgive you. She's a good pal."

  I stood, needing to start to get changed for the memorial service. I whipped my shirt off, juggling the phone as I did. Then, it hit me. A way to kill two birds with one stone. "Ky-y-yle...?" I said winningly.

  I could hear his smile through the phone. "What do you want?"

  "I'm in Denver, too."

  "No shit?"

  His exuberant cry made me question if I was doing the right thing. I wanted to see him again. Why? I wasn't sure. But I knew it wasn't going anywhere. I was done with relationships. Still... there was something about him. It was like he could see through all my bullshit and that was both thrilling and scary.

  "Come to the game tonight. I can get you a box. I know I can. Come, and bring Dani. Hell, bring whoever you want. Those things seat about sixteen."

  "Oh, Kyle. Are you sure?"

  "Hell, yeah, I'm sure. Go to the Will Call window when you get here."

  "That's fantastic." Things were working out as I'd hoped. I could make it all up to Dani, and see Kyle.

  There was another pause. "You will come to see me afterward, won't you?"

  "Of course. But how will we get to where you are? Dani and I seem to have trouble convincing security guards we're not up to something. In fact, come to think of it, we seem to have trouble convincing anyone of it."

  "I'll come to you. Just wait in the booth. It may take me some time to get changed."

  "I'll be there."

  "Good." After another painful pause he added, "I'll see you tonight then." His voice was soft, full of anticipation. Warmth spread through me.

  "Thanks, Kyle."

  "No problem, gorgeous."

  I clicked off the phone and did a little jig. I was going to see Kyle. I wasn't quite sure why that thrilled me so much, but it did. I decided not to explore it for tonight. Sometimes you had to go wi
th the flow.

  Chapter 17

  Tucker

  I had just gotten out of the shower, washing off the sweat from the tennis court, and the disappointment over how things went with Dani, when there was a knock at the door. I dove to open it. But it wasn't Dani. Sam stood on the balcony/hallway overlooking the inner courtyard of our hotel. I froze for a minute, trying to switch gears and figure out what Sam would want with me.

  "Do you always answer the door half-naked?" she asked caustically.

  "Oh, sorry. Let me get a T-shirt on." I rubbed the towel over my head as I trekked across the room to the bed, and then pulled on a navy T-shirt. "What can I do for you?" I called over my shoulder. To my surprise, she'd followed me in and plopped on the end of the bed.

  "So... Tucker... What do you do, outside of being a roadie? Obviously it's not tennis, 'cause Dani wiped the floor with you." She glanced around the room, and every once in a while, at me, but her eyes would dart away. She was nervous. I'd seen it on the witness stand a hundred times before.

  "Yeah. She did," I answered wryly. "But she said I was better competition than you."

  "Oh, for sure. I suck. So... do you play sports, water ski, what?"

  "Why the ninth degree? I feel like I'm being interviewed here."

  She stood and began pacing. "Listen, you like Dani, right?"

  I laughed, a little irritated that she'd barged into my room and now was interrogating me. I wasn't ready to admit to anybody how head-over-heels I was for Dani, not even myself. "I don't know if I should answer that question." I turned my back to her for a minute, trying to figure out where all of this was going, and becoming more frustrated by the second. What should I tell her? I spun around. "Do you have any idea how junior high that sounds? If I have any feelings for Dani, I'll discuss them with her—"

  "You like hockey?"

  "What?" I asked flabbergasted, lost by the turn in the conversation. "Yes. I guess."

  "Be at the bottom of the stairs in the courtyard at six." She got up and strode to the front door.

  "What?" I repeated. "Did you ever consider I might have plans?"