by Mel Curtis
“Goddamnit, Viv. There are trades to be made. The media deal with the NBA – ”
“Zach and I can take care of whatever needs to be done.” Vivian stood firm. He’d almost died!
“And Trent Parker. I have to make sure he doesn’t ruin my team.” Jack tried to sit again.
“He’s not going to ruin your precious team, Jack. You hired him. He’s got to be good.”
Jack’s eyes nearly rolled back in his head. He jerked upright. “I have to get out of here. Someone’s trying to bankrupt my team. It’s the Russians. The NBA wants to sell my team to the Russians.”
Vivian caught the doctor’s knowing glance. Jack was talking gibberish. Why wasn’t the doctor worried?
As if reading her mind, the doctor said, “Paranoia is a side-effect of the high fever. His temperature isn’t down to normal yet.” The doctor held Jack down. “Mr. Gordon. We need you to rest.” And then in a hushed voice, “Nurse, sedative. Reassure him, Mrs. Gordon.”
That was like telling a rodeo clown to reassure a bull everything was going to be okay in the china shop.
“Jack. Jack.” Viv placed a palm on his cheek, gently forcing him to look at her. “You need to get better. You can’t fight the Russians and control the team unless you rest. If you close your eyes, I promise Zach will be here with papers for you to sign when you wake up.”
The nurse ran back in with medication. He injected something into Jack’s I.V.
Jack turned his head and kissed her palm. “Promise me you won’t screw up my dream, Viv. If I lose this, I have nothing…”
She wanted his dream to be her. The Rules were right. Even medicated, Jack couldn’t see her for the basketball team. This was her chance to make a play for her husband the only way she knew how. To destroy the competition. So what if the Flash went down while Jack was ill? If Jack lost the team, he’d have her. Only her. “I’m going to take care of everything, Jack. Just wait and see.”
~*~
The front desk clerk at the Beverly Hilton greeted Trent at five-thirty, just two hours after the tow truck had dropped him off. “Rough night, sir?”
“And then some.” Trent waving to the valet to bring his car around.
There hadn’t been enough time for meaningful sleep, not after having pseudo phone sex with Cora. Without the phones. In her car. Without the all-important finale, too, which explained why he had another crotch-tightening case of blue balls.
She thought making love to her one night allowed him to shelve her as a distraction? Wrong. Cora popped into his thoughts and popped up his dick at the most inconvenient times. She’d explained her hang-up with the bedroom and yet she still didn’t want to let him in. What was he doing wrong?
This was his shot at the NBA. He had to be perfect. Long days and long nights dedicated to setting up his team to win. His focus needed to be 100% on the team, not divided between his team and a woman.
His dad exited the elevator, yawning. He noticed the valet pulling up in the Fairlane. “Why don’t you buy something fast and racy? The air conditioning in that car is prehistoric. But for God’s sake, don’t drink the California water and buy a Prius.”
The Fairlane protested being put in park by the valet and gave its usual backfire. “As much as I want to buy a second vehicle, I’m really busy right now.” He didn’t even have time to find a place to live.
Carrying a cup of coffee, Randy hurried to join them as they exited the lobby. The morning air was crisp, nothing like the heat they’d get later in the afternoon.
“And I’ve been thinking. We need a good secretary for the coaching staff. Just don’t make babies with her – either one of you.” The old man was bursting with unwanted advice this morning.
“What about a life coach?” Trent murmured, tipping the valet.
“I didn’t catch that, but it was probably some of your bad humor.” Archie opened the passenger door and held it for Randy to climb in the back. “The next thing you need is a great house overlooking the ocean. I’ve seen pictures of Phil Jackson’s place. He can drink coffee on his porch and watch the dolphins swim by.”
“Dad, I have a one-year deal. A house like that would cost me my entire salary.”
“Jack’ll give you an extension.” The old man’s voice rumbled louder than cheap tires on rough pavement. Then his voice smoothed out. “Just win games.”
“Playoffs, Dad. We have to make playoffs.” Or they’d be fired. There was no way he was screwing this up. Unless he took his eyes off the prize.
An image of Cora came to mind – naked on her pink sheets, cradling a basketball in her arms.
Trent swore and gunned it out of the parking lot.
~*~
Damn it, Jack.
He’d kissed Viv’s palm and told her he’d have nothing without the Flash.
He’d have me!
Every time they’d made love – married or separated – he’d screwed her as if he believed he wouldn’t live to see tomorrow. And now, when he was dancing with death, he still couldn’t put their future ahead of that damn basketball team.
I failed.
Vivian had never failed at anything in her life.
She’d never wanted anything as desperately as she wanted Jack. But it was time to face reality. He liked being with her as long as he could get between her legs, but he didn’t love her. Maybe he never had.
She drove away from the hospital at dawn as traffic on the 405 was just starting to thicken. Her heart had been cracked and broken and damaged too often over the past few weeks. It didn’t shatter now. But she felt cold inside. And with the cold, a new sense of purpose arose.
It was time Vivian took her future into her own hands.
A few hours later, showered, perfumed, wearing an Armani power suit, she approached the large black desk in Jack’s office. Once, a long time ago, he’d made love to her on that desktop. She ran a hand along the edge of the cool wood, coming around to sit in Jack’s black leather chair.
The Rules wanted her to prove to Jack that she could be his business partner.
Reclaim your power.
The doctor said Jack would be on forced bed rest under restraint for a few more days, maybe a week. That gave Vivian a week to prove something to everyone.
“Can I help you, Mrs. Gordon?” Zach, Jack’s assistant, walked into the office. He was young and green, and used to jumping every time Jack screamed at him.
She smiled the smile she used on people she wanted something from. “Zach, have I ever told you that I co-signed for ownership of this team?”
After a moment of hesitation, Zach shook his head. The look in his eyes said he was a scared rabbit.
Jack ate scared rabbits for breakfast.
But so did Viv.
“My husband won’t be released from the hospital for at least another week. I need to get up to speed. I’ll give you twenty minutes to prioritize what needs my attention. And if you don’t bring me everything, including the NBA’s latest media offer, you’re fired.”
The rabbit hesitated. “Is Mr. Gordon…Is Mr. Gordon going to die?”
Vivian almost crumbled. No one could reassure her of that. She held onto her composure by the thinnest of threads. “Just do it.”
Zach hurried out.
Vivian sank back into plush leather. Power felt good. With power, if Jack didn’t want her when he was released, she might heal.
There was a player contract in the center of the desk. Hugh Irving. She’d never heard of him. She scanned the terms of the deal – seven hundred fifty thousand for three months. The option was for an additional two million for the rest of the season if he performed to Jack’s standards.
Vivian searched for Hugh Irving on her iPhone. The guy was a royal screw-up – alcohol, women, gambling. He’d only been in the league for three years and he’d been kicked off four different teams.
Vivian smiled.
Hugh Irving was the perfect addition to take the Flash down.
And then Vivian f
ound something even better. A notice from owners of the Fabulous Forum, where the Flash played…Or used to.
Chapter 20
L.A. Happenings by Lyle Lincoln
…Need further proof that Cora Rule and Trent Parker are an item? The pair showed up together at the county big house to bail out Antoine Watson in the middle of the night.
…Kaya Anika has been named to the all-star cast of the Amazing Race. Always a fan favorite, Kaya was spotted leaving Panache after a late night dinner with beau, Langdon Price, and the cutest little dog. Totable dogs are once more the rage in Hollywood.
Cora entered the Dooley Foundation with a double shot of espresso. She was late, having to take a taxi to the Mercedes dealership for a loaner. Her eyes felt like they were trying to hold up sandbags. Regular strength coffee was failing her.
Gemma was the first to confront her, following Cora into her office. “Is it true? You and Trent Parker? A repeat performance?”
Why couldn’t some up-and-coming starlet have a wild fling with George Clooney? Maybe then Cora would drop off Lyle Lincoln’s radar.
Cora knelt to let Brutus out of his carrier. The little dog gave himself a full body-shake, before running off to find Mr. Jiggles for some morning playtime. “Don’t believe everything you read in that gossip column. You didn’t see Coach Parker last night when you picked me up, did you?”
“No, but you bailed Antoine out. Your car could have broken down when you drove Trent to his hotel.” Gemma’s scrutiny was homemade lie-detector intense.
Cora put her hand on her hip. “What kind of a man leaves a woman to deal with a broken car in the middle of the night?” What kind of a man, indeed.
“You’re right. He’s not a dick.”
Cora wasn’t sure what Trent was anymore. He’d been her adversary, her lover, and her confidante. She’d like to put “ex” in front of every label.
“Uh,” Blue poked his head in the doorway. “Is there something I should know?”
Cora blew out a breath. It was going to be a long day. “No. I bailed Antoine out of jail last night. And my car broke down.”
“She’s telling the truth,” Gemma said in a rare show of support.
Blue looked confused. “What about Coach Parker?”
“He showed up to bail Antoine out when Cora did.” Amber came to stand next to Blue. “Ren told Evan what happened this morning.” She stared at Cora steadily. “Antoine might have learned a harder lesson had you left him in jail overnight.”
“But I wouldn’t have felt good about it,” Cora said.
Amber laughed, but it was razor-edged. “You didn’t come to bail me out after a bar fight.”
“I didn’t like you then.” Cora plugged her cell phone into the charger, trying not to think about unknown half-siblings with no one to rely on. “Besides, for all his bluster and street persona, Antoine’s a nice guy. He just needs to grow up.”
Amber indicated Gemma should leave. She and Blue sat down across from Cora. “How’s it going?”
Cora launched into her rehearsed checklist. “I’m sure Evan told you the team is good. Coach Parker and his staff are meshing well with them. Vivian told me Jack woke up, but they had to sedate him because he wanted out of there. She didn’t sound as happy as I thought she would.”
“If Jack’s awake, we need to put his program into play.” Blue rubbed his hands on his khakis. “I’ve never been so excited about a program.”
Cora hadn’t been looking forward to this. “The man’s seriously ill. Does he really need any more reinforcement that life is short and you need to hold your loved ones close?”
“This is Jack Gordon we’re talking about,” Amber said. “He may have been asleep for a week, but you can bet he wasn’t visited by any ghosts of Christmas – past, present, or future.”
“Not yet, anyway.” Cora sighed in defeat, flipped through her contacts in her phone until she found one of her former bed-buddies, and dialed. “Jeremy. How are you?”
“Cora? It’s been over a year.” The distance in his voice made Cora feel like one of those women who pathetically hung onto men to falsely boost their self-esteem. “I told you I’m in a relationship now. In fact, I’m getting married next spring.”
“Dude, I’m happy for you, but that’s not the reason I’m calling.” It was difficult to keep the bitch out of her voice. Like she was that desperate. Didn’t Jeremy read L.A. Happenings? “I need a favor, not a hook-up. I’m working at the Dooley Foundation and one of my clients is one of your patients.”
Jeremy was the director of patient services at the hospital where Jack was being treated and Cal Lazarus’s dad was in hospice care.
Jeremy’s tone didn’t thaw. “Is this favor going to get me into trouble?”
“This favor is going to get a large donation for the hospital made in your name and floor level seats to a Flash game.”
He sighed into the phone. “I know I’m going to regret asking you this, but what is this evil thing in the name of good you want me to do?”
“There’s a patient of yours in hospice who loves people, but his son has him in a private room because he only visits late at night and doesn’t want to disturb anyone. Your hospice patient wants company and to see his son in the light of day. There’s another patient of yours recovering from West Nile Virus that could use a roommate who appreciates life. He’s still out of it, occasionally hallucinating, and bound to his bed. I was wondering if you could make them roomies.” A few minutes later, Cora promised to send over a box of cigars and hung up. “Jeremy agreed.”
“That wasn’t the lesson we discussed with Viv,” Blue said, doubt clouding his brow.
“I happened to meet Cal Lazarus Senior a week or so ago,” Cora began.
“Oh, Cora,” Amber cut her off. “I was texting while you talked, so I didn’t catch the other patient’s name. Cal Lazarus’ father? That’s the man who’s dying? Don’t mess with Cal.”
“Cal needs a good night sleep in his own bed, not a hospital chair. It’s impacting his work and his attitude.” Not just toward Cora, but Portia as well. He was becoming a letch. “His father’s nightly pain meds mean he can’t fully wake himself up to talk when Cal visits. He’s lonely and heartbroken.” Not to mention a bit of a character. “Besides, Cal is my client. He needs to be forced to face death during the daylight.” Cora gathered her things. “Are we good? I need to check in with the Flash.” And pretend Trent didn’t know things about her even Amber didn’t know.
Amber and Blue exchanged glances. Each turned back to her and raised an eyebrow in the same way their father used to.
“When will you two cut me a break? I’m tired of you not trusting me. I’m not sleeping with Coach Parker.” Cora felt the tell-tale heat of a blush root beneath her breastbone and climb upward. “His priority is the team.”
“Men always have something to prove.” Thankfully, Blue took the conversation in a different direction. “They count wins and salaries and the size of their engines.”
“It’s Coach Parker’s priorities we need to shift before someone gets hurt.” Amber’s gaze became distant. Cora imagined she was worrying about Evan again.
“In his defense,” Cora said, “Trent’s here to win. Just because you think he’s going to run the team to death doesn’t mean he will. The more I get to know him, the less likely it seems.”
“So you don’t believe he sacrificed Randy Farrell for the championship?” Amber’s gaze challenged. “He knew that kid was injured and he played him anyway.”
Cora held her ground. “Have you seen the entire film? The only thing Coach Parker is guilty of is refusing to believe Randy was fit to play.” When sleep eluded her, she’d watched last season’s Holy Southern Cross games, including several viewings of the championship game. She’d seen the reluctance on Trent’s face as Randy pleaded to play on.
“Coach Parker’s record is littered with injured players.” Amber’s tone escalated, until she very nearly howled her displeasure.
“Don’t tell me he’s convinced you otherwise.”
“Every coach at every level of sport has injured players,” Cora retorted. “The media has made Coach Parker their target. It’s a great headline – the good Reverend isn’t a Saint. From ESPN to L.A. Happenings, it draws people in.”
“Ladies, stop.” Blue held an arm toward each sister. “Arguing won’t help anything.”
They ignored him.
“I’m your boss. You’ll do what I think is best for the client.”
“What’s best for your husband, you mean.” Bitchiness flooded Cora, raising the set of her shoulders and the pitch of her words.
Amber’s eyes flashed. “I’m taking you off the Flash assignment.”
All those billings…I’ll never meet my sales quota.
Cora lifted her chin. “I quit.”
“You can’t take her off this assignment, Amber.” Blue’s voice had a rare edge to it, the kind that sliced with the business end. “And you can’t quit, Cora.”
Before Cora could ask why, Brutus and Mr. Jiggles trotted into the room ahead of Gemma. “Something just hit the news about the Flash being bumped out of the Forum. The group that bought the arena wants to do a major remodel ASAP. It’s going to be closed until January.”
“Where is the Flash going to play?” Amber wondered aloud.
“Jack’s assistant, Zach, told me Vivian made arrangements to play at some junior college in Orange County.” Gemma gave Cora a worried look. “That’s not all. Zach said there’s truth to the rumor circulating on Twitter about the Flash making an offer for Hugh Irving.”
“What?” A trio of flabbergasted Rules.
“It was trending on Twitter?” Amber tilted her head in Gemma’s direction. “How do you know?”
“Because she’s fan-girl stalking Coach Farrell.” Sarcasm rode the crest of Cora’s anger, trampled the knowledge that Gemma was collateral damage. “You could have said something sooner.”
Gemma’s eyes narrowed. “It was a rumor. Someone in this office just told me not to believe everything I read online.” She stomped out, two little dogs at her heels.