He'd had a hard enough time swallowing his pride and agreeing to join his firm with Atkins but he couldn't let the agency flounder and the girls' PR business suffer. What with me young agents nipping at his heels, it was a smart business move. That didn't mean he had to like it
"Okay. Make sure Irwin draws up the paperwork. I want my lawyer doing the drafting," he said to Lola.
“Then I suggest you talk to one of the girls and have them arrange it. I don't work for you anymore, remember? And I didn't hear I love you, Lola, or I'm sorry, Lola, come out of your mouth, so I don't really feel compelled to help you out." She reached for her purse, which had been lying on the moveable tray. "Besides, I'm still working for Spence and until the merger's complete, that would be a conflict of interest".
Yank punched his covers with his hand. "Of all the-"
"Good morning," Micki said in a too-cheerful voice as she walked into the room.
The little peacemaker had probably heard the arguing from the hall and decided to come fix things.
"What's going on?" she asked.
Lola smiled and kissed her on the cheek. "Nothing you need to worry about I was just leaving, so he's all yours."
"Oh joy," Micki said, laughing.
"When are you coming back?" Yank asked Lola.
She turned. Her eyes held a fierce determination he'd seen only once before, when she'd given him her ultimatum and then walked out.
His stomach churned in anticipation.
"I'll be back when you have something to say that I want to hear" She waved goodbye and walked out the door. Out of his room and out of his life.
"Pardon my French but I suggest you shit or get off the pot, Uncle Yank. The woman may have the patience of a saint but even saints have their limits and she's obviously reached hers," Micki said.
He leaned back in his bed, everything in his aging body aching. "I need a nap."
"You need to get out of that bed," the chipper physical therapist they'd met yesterday said as she strode into the room.
And with that, Yank entered a hell that was second only to watching Lola leave him again.
THE RENEGADES SPLIT the two-game series with Los Angeles. Tomorrow was a travel day, which gave the team some freedom tonight although Coach Donovan insisted they remain in the hotel and hit their rooms by midnight. Damian sat at the hotel bar, nursing a beer with his teammates, participating in jokes and wondering how Yank and Micki were holding up.
He didn't plan on calling Micki, thus proving to himself that while he was on the road, only his career mattered. But that hadn't stopped him from tossing and turning in his cold, lonely hotel bed, wondering what she was doing, what she was wearing to bed and most of all whether or not she was missing him.
He rose and walked over to the bar to order a fresh drink.
"Hey." A drunken Carter sauntered up beside him.
Although Damian had watched him down drink after drink tonight, Carter had been unusually quiet and subdued this road trip, making Damian wonder what trouble the rookie had up his sleeve.
"How's it going?" Damian asked.
The other man shrugged. "It's going."
Damian waited for Carter to leave, but he lingered, then grabbed a stool and sat down.
As team captain, Damian had listened to the guys when they'd had problems that might interfere with their game and he'd given advice based on his years in the league, but in the short time Carter had been with the Renegades, he'd never come to Damian for a damn thing. As far as Damian could tell, Carter needed no one except his ego.
As Micki had once said, he was young. He'd learn.
The way the kid lingered now, apparently he wanted something.
"Two Guinnesses," Damian said to the bartender, ordering Carter's drink of choice tonight. Damian waited for them to be served and turned to the rookie. "Okay, what gives?"
The younger man tipped his head to one side, then raised his glass. "To peace."
His words took Damian off guard. "As I recall, you rejected the same offer a few weeks back "
"A lot's happened in a few weeks. Enough to make me respect my elders."
With Carter's irreverence, the tension eased from Daiman's neck and shoulders. "That's the smart-ass rookie I know."
"Tell me something." Carter wasn't slurring his words but his tone definitely indicated he was drunk and Damian knew me other man wouldn't be talking to him now if he were cold sober.
"What's that?" Damian asked.
"How the hell do you do it?"
Damian raised an eyebrow. "Do what?"
"Always come out on top, smelling like a rose." Carter nudged his elbow against Damian's. "Come on, share your secrets."
Damian glanced at the other man's glassy eyes and rolled his own. "You really are trashed. How the hell can you think I come out smelling like a rose when my life's for shit right now?"
Carter glanced away. "Well yeah, but you'll come out of it. You always do."
Damian groaned. "If anything it comes down to how you live your life. I may be a selfish SOB at times but I never deliberately intend to screw with anyone else. Maybe it's good karma. Then again, good karma wouldn't have me with a pregnant ex-lover.”
Carter shook his head. "I hear you, man. I haven't exactly been living my life in a way that has much to do with goodwill towards men, if you know what I mean." He took a long pull of his beer.
"You've been a prick," Damian agreed.
"Yeah. And it isn't working for me too well. I'm thinking I've got to figure out your angle, since you seem to be doing something right" He slung an arm over Damian's shoulder in a brotherly gesture Damian didn't trust for a minute.
Damian wrapped his hands around the beer glass. "So what's with the change in attitude? Coach giving you shit?"
Carter raised his head, meeting Damian's gaze. "I'm giving me shit. Actually, a woman's giving me shit. Do you know what it's like to fall for someone who won't give you the time of day?" He let out a sarcastic laugh. "No of course you don't. All woman fall at your feet."
"Tell me something, Carter, because this jealousy of yours is getting old. Would you really want to be in my shoes? Thirty-five, one year left on your contract and a pregnant woman claiming you're having a kid you never wanted or planned?"
The rookie burst out laughing, taking Damian by surprise.
"What the hell's so funny?"
Carter rested an arm on the bar and leaned toward Damian. "Well here's the thing. My woman is your woman and as long as you're in the picture, she won't have anything to do with me. Won't return my calls. So would I want to be in your shoes? Hell yeah." With that astonishing proclamation, he downed the rest of his beer and gestured for yet another.
"I think you've had enough. We're playing tomorrow" Damian reminded him. He sifted through Carter's words in his mind. "My woman's your woman? Micki Jordan?" Even as Damian said her name, he knew that the notion was an impossible one.
Carter's belly laugh caused more than one person at the bar to turn and glance their way. "Don't you see the irony? You don't even want Carole and she's slobbering for whatever you'll give her. I'm willing to take full responsibility for the kid and she's discounted me like I’m dirt."
Nothing the guy said made sense but if Damian had to guess, he figured Carole and Carter had slept together and Carter had fallen hard. Problem was, Damian had hooked them up just a few weeks ago so unfortunately there was no reason for Carter to "take responsibility." "Listen, buddy. You sober up and we'll talk more tomorrow."
"You're dismissing me the same way she did."
Damian rose to his feet. "Do I need to remind you about the facts of life? Even if you slept with Carole, she says she's almost three months pregnant. That makes you an impossible candidate."
"Not if I slept with her for the first time back in April, which I did. To get back at you. I just didn't expect to develop feelings for the woman."
Hot damn, Damian thought, he'd been right all along. Carole had been sleepi
ng around while they were together. He hadn't figured Carter in her travels, but what the hell. Anyone she'd been with gave him that much more hope that he wouldn't be tied to her for eternity.
"So when I handed her over to you?" Damian asked.
"We had a good laugh," Carter admitted. "Oh and while we're spilling our guts?"
Carter was spilling, Damian was listening, but he wasn't about to remind him and ruin the momentum. He wondered what else the rookie was about to confess.
"Yeah?"
He shook his head and actually looked sheepish for a brief moment. "I'm the one who led the photographers to Lacie's. I hoped you'd get caught with your pants down and get some negative press for a change."
The confirmation of something Damian had suspected all along should have infuriated him but, coupled with Carter's admission about Carole, Damian found himself in a forgiving mood.
"And instead they decided I'd rescued Micki and I was a hero. Must've pissed you off?
Carter nodded. "Enough that when you didn't show up for practice and Sophie Jordan Said you were doing rehab work at your island home, I called the airport and had them hijack your bags." Again, the other man glanced away, obviously unable to look his captain in the eye.
"What else?" Damian asked in a lethally low tone, his forgiveness now coming in short supply.
Carter rose to his feet and stumbled unsteadily. "Promise you won't hit me."
This had to be bad, Damian thought and winced before even hearing the news. "Just spit it out"
"I was the one who leaked the pregnancy news to the press and before you say I'm an ass, I'll do it for you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt Carole. I was just looking to get back at you." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Which doesn't make it any better, I know. But losing Carole taught me a lesson and I'm damn sorry." He hung his head.
Damian didn't know how much was drunken rambling, how much was truth, but at least Carter had developed a conscience. Enough to confess his sins, and those confessions had Damian wondering. And gave him legitimate reason to demand a paternity test from Carole without feeling guilty.
"Let's go get you sobered up," Damian said, not bothering to address anything Carter had admitted.
"You aren't going to kill me?"
Damian glanced at Carter's pale face. "Nah. I think I'll spare you. But if this repentant stuff is all an act and you pull a stunt like that again? I'll be using your balls for batting practice."
Carter grinned, a drunken grin. "Fair enough."
"Carole know about any of this?" Damian asked.
Carter shook his head. "But I'm going to tell her because, starting tomorrow, I'm turning over a new, responsible leaf. She's gonna see I want to be in her life even if the kid turns out to be yours."
Damian shook his head and prodded the drunken man toward the bank of elevators in the hall, all the while wondering if fate would be kind to Damian Fuller, the man who'd been given everything.
And hand him this one thing more.
MICKI OPENED A BAG of Tostitos she'd bought in the hospital cafeteria. She popped open a can of Diet Coke for herself and put Uncle Yank's can on his bedside tray for him to enjoy later. While he dozed, she curled up on the chair in his private room and settled in to watch TV. Despite her best intentions, the channel landed on WPIX and the Renegades came into view on the small screen.
The Renegades were in the field, down by two runs in the seventh, no outs, bases loaded. She watched a ball fly toward center field. She raised the volume.
"…And Fuller goes back, back to the far wall. He's there. He jumps. His hand hits the wall as the ball lands in his glove but he manages to hold on to it! Fuller prevents a grand slam but can he keep the number of runs down to a manageable level?"
Holding her breath, Micki leaned forward in her seat.
"Rodriguez scores on the sacrifice fly! Fuller throws to third and Baressi holds up at second base. Damian Fuller keeps the damage to one run."
Micki let out a long stream of air. "That was close."
"He's got some mileage left in him yet," Uncle Yank said from his bed.
She turned. "You're up!" she said, surprised.
"What do you expect when you blast the television like that?"
"How are you feeling?"
"It hurts."
She knew what the admission cost him. "Sophie's been making phone calls. We're getting you the best physical therapist there is. You'll be up and about in no time," she promised her uncle.
He nodded. "You're good girls. I don't tell you that often enough."
Micki smiled. "Yes you do." She rose, walked to the bed and leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek.
"Oh shit. Make it louder," her uncle said, suddenly agitated and pointing wildly toward the TV.
Micki turned and grabbed the remote, which was wired to his bed. She raised the sound but she'd already caught sight of Damian in the outfield, surrounded by his coach and trainers.
"…And Fuller is helped off the field. We don't know the full extent of the injury or if it's related to his last stint on the DL but as soon as anything comes our way, we'll report it back to you."
Micki hit the mute button once more. She met her uncle's worried gaze with one of her own. Her stomach plummeted because she knew, whether or not this injury kept him out of the game, Damian was going to take it as yet another sign that the career he loved was coming to an end.
“This can't be good," she said aloud.
Her uncle shook his head. "But you can't fight age forever," he said, thoughtfully.
Micki wondered if he was referring to Damian or to himself.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DAMIAN'S SEVEN-DAY ROAD TRIP was cut short by a plane ride home to see Dr. Maddux and undergo a full battery of tests on his wrist, including X rays and an electromyogram that recorded the electrical activity of the nerve and muscle cells in his wrist. Maddux said he'd call him with the results, but it didn't take a damn machine to tell Damian that there was pressure on the nerve and swelling there, too.
Based on the tingling numbness and almost complete lack of feeling in his thumb, Damian figured it didn't matter much what the diagnosis was, his season just might be finished.
Not to mention what was left of his career.
He poured himself a second shot of whiskey and sat down in his favorite leather chair in his den. He left the plasma screen black, not wanting to flip channels and see what was happening in a world that for him was falling apart. How much more crap would be clumped on his head before it was all over? Damian wondered, feeling sorry for himself and not giving a good goddamn.
The doorbell rang and he ignored it. He wasn't in the mood for company, especially his sisters, the only people besides his parents that Rafael, the doorman, would allow up without calling first
The buzzer sounded a second time and then a third. Obviously Rafael had told them he was home. With a curse, Damian rose and headed for the door, intending to kiss whichever well-meaning sibling was behind it hello and then goodbye.
"Don't you realize when someone doesn't answer the door he doesn't want to be bothered?" he asked at the same time he pulled it open wide.
"Hello, Oscar," Micki said with a big smile.
He scratched his head, his slightly inebriated brain not comprehending her reference.
"Oscar the Grouch. Now let me in so we can talk " Without waiting for permission, she ducked under his arm and strode inside. “
He slammed the door shut behind himself. Micki was the one person he wanted to see and the person he'd been avoiding. He figured he'd dumped enough of his problems on her without adding his injury to the list.
He followed behind her, taking in the sweet curve of her rear end encased in tight denim and the hint of skin at her waist peeking out below the cropped top. Her hips swayed as she walked and his groin grew thick and hard with wanting her. At least some part of his broken-down body still worked.
"So how'd you get Rafael to let you in?*' He sl
ammed the door shut behind him.
She shrugged. "I was just honest. I told him you'd been through a lot and you needed a friend. He looked me in the eye and buzzed me right in. I think if I'd said I'd come to seduce you he'd have tossed me out on my rear end."
Damian laughed despite himself. "He's definitely done that before for me. He's a bouncer in his spare time"
"You need security to keep the women away, huh?"
He could tell she was deliberately keeping the conversation light for his sake and decided the hell with it. He wasn't in a light mood and she might as well know it going in.
"Right now I want everyone to stay away." He caught himself immediately. "Except you." He hadn't wanted company but with Micki he didn't feel the need to entertain her or make small talk.
She'd never been to his apartment, yet she made herself at home, heading straight for the den and his oversize club chair. Since she'd taken his seat, Damian eased-himself beside her on the arm of the chair.
"So how bad is it?" she asked, reaching for his good hand, the one not in a brace.
"Can't feel my thumb and the rest of me hand tingles like it's asleep."
"What do the doctors say?"
He shrugged. "They're being deliberately vague till the tests are read. They're still mentioning carpal tunnel and a pinched nerve but nobody's willing to commit to anything."
Micki swallowed hard. She'd come here because he'd ignored her calls on both his cell and his home number, and she'd realized he was probably holed up here throwing a pity party for himself. She glanced at the half-full glass of whiskey and frowned. She hated that she'd been right.
Damian was the least self-pitying man she knew but the potential for bad news was strong and he'd spent who knows how long denying the inevitable.
"Don't take this the wrong way and jump all over me, okay?" she asked.
He tipped his head towards her. "I promise not to take it the wrong way. As for jumping you-"
She laughed. "Those weren't my exact words."
"They work well enough for me," he said in a husky tone she couldn't mistake.
A tremor of awareness shot through her but she forced herself to keep her focus. He might not realize it, but he needed sound advice and she was here to give it to him. "Didn't you realize something like this would happen eventually?"
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