by Mel Curtis
This is not good.
For days, he’d been watching the team, simultaneously composing text messages and conversations with her in his head, then forcing himself to leave it. To leave her alone. He’d been angry at her for meddling with Vivian. Shit-fire angry. He’d let his temper get the best of him, bodying her up to the wall, challenging her temper, daring her to kiss him again. But she hadn’t.
When she’d admitted she was wrong, he couldn’t walk away.
The acquisition of Hugh Irving was finally signed, but that meant there was more work than ever to be done. He shouldn’t have taken those few hours off this morning to open a bank account and do his laundry. The hotel would do his laundry, but at a cost that made his eyes roll up in his head. No way was he paying one hundred dollars to wash three loads.
Archie poked his grizzled head out the workout room door. “Good, you’re here. Nina transferred Hugh Irving’s assistant to me. They want to know about flight arrangements from Miami to L.A.”
“What do I look like? A travel agent? Transportation is Irving’s problem if the front office doesn’t want to deal with him. He needs to be here and ready to go at seven a.m. tomorrow or his contract is null and void.”
Archie nodded and held the door for Trent.
“Fuckin’ A, Parker.” Evan led the assembled mob toward him. “Who gave Viv contract-blanche over the team? If she can sign Irving, she can break any of our deals.”
“We already have a center.” Ren thumbed his chest. “Me, the pride of South Korea.”
“That dude is bad news.” One eye swollen shut, Antoine side-stepped nervously. “Worse than anyone in my posse.”
Trent would have been annoyed at their panic, if not for one thing – when the situation turned to shit, they’d all turned to him, not Evan. Hallelujah, they were starting to see him as their leader.
“Bad news would be if you cry-babies used this as an excuse to short-change your workout.” Trent’s gaze drilled into each of them, including Randy and Berto. “Nothing is certain. When Irving gets here, you’re going to show him how hard it is to earn a spot on this team.”
They all shuffled their feet like kindergartners who’d just been told they had to wait to go to the potty.
“Aren’t you supposed to be on the court?” Trent bellowed. “Get the fuck out of here.”
Unused to their coach – the Reverend – shouting profanity, they got the fuck out of there.
~*~
The Flash’s biggest head-case glanced up from Jack’s laptop screen when Cora entered.
“I thought you were smarter than this.” Cora sat in a chair opposite Viv. “You need me more than I need you.”
“Seriously?” Viv laughed in that fake, Beverly Hills housewife way that drove Cora nuts. “Enlighten me.”
“Jack is going to get better, and he’s going to charge in here and kick your ass out. For good.” If hell froze over and she ever married, Cora couldn’t imagine sabotaging her husband’s dreams.
Vivian sat back in her chair, a glimmer of regret in her eyes. “Have you ever had one of those moments when you realize you’re wasting your time?” She drew a slow, deep breath and ran her fingers along the chair’s arms. “When I sit here, I feel the power that Jack has. It’s comforting to know that if this doesn’t work, I’ll be okay…Eventually.”
Viv was getting over Jack.
This was bad news. Incredibly bad news. Train-off-the-rails bad news. It meant Cora had no bargaining chip.
“You’d do that? You’d give up when you’re so close?”
Viv hesitated, then nodded.
“If you destroy Jack’s dream, you may as well call it quits. He’ll never forgive you.”
She shrugged in that elegant way of hers. “I’ll survive.”
“He’s making this work, Viv. What if you make a positive difference this week? A difference that gives the team the added boost they need? How would you feel…inside…” Cora rubbed her chest with her fingers. “How would you feel to know he couldn’t have achieved his dream without you?”
Viv’s gaze hardened. “You’re trying to pull that Rules bullshit on me.”
“I’m not.” She had been. Shit. It hadn’t worked. “I’m on your side, Viv. Not only do we have a contract, but we have a friendship, right?”
Viv didn’t confirm their friendship or deny it. “Coach Parker mentioned a trade. I want to trade Evan Oliver. You know more about basketball contracts than me. What do I need to do?”
Chapter 22
“Can I talk to you in private?” Thirty minutes after their blow-up, Cora appeared at Trent’s side in the practice gym.
“More bad news? So soon? Wasn’t the loss of venue enough?” Trent and Jack were trying to shake up the NBA and play moneyball with Jack’s limited funds. Could they afford more players with four months of reduced ticket sales? Uh, no. “Has FrankenViv run berserk among the villagers?”
Ignoring his comment, Cora led him to the side of the gym. The squeak of plastic soles and the bounce of balls on hardwood offered them privacy.
Cora crossed her arms beneath her chest, a comfort hug, an “I don’t like what I’m about to say” wrap-around. “Viv just asked me how to trade Evan.”
Someone must have kicked the backs of Trent’s knees, for he swore those joints buckled. The yank of gravity nearly knocked him on his ass. “Hell, no.” He couldn’t win without Evan. The small forward was the one piece he couldn’t replace. That wasn’t the trade Trent and Jack had discussed.
“I know.” Cora spared her brother-in-law a glance filled with remorse. “He loves this team. Being traded will kill him.” She gazed up at Trent with dark, watery eyes.
He resisted the urge to draw her close. She wanted to be part of the team? She had to get used to the idea of change. “What did you tell Vivian?”
“I lied.” Cora’s gaze dropped to her pointy, sexy heels. “I told her there was a six-month rider on the contract extension and he couldn’t be considered for a trade until mid-December.”
Trent wanted to kiss her feet. “She’ll call legal to confirm. She doesn’t trust you.”
“I’m getting a lot of that lately.” Her gaze strayed to the court. “I had Nina talk to the legal department. I don’t know how long they can dodge Viv, but they fear Jack more than they do his wife.” She seemed to see the basketball team for the first time. “They’re dragging. Look at Ren. He needs a pep talk.”
Before she could take a step, Vivian claimed Ren for herself.
~*~
Hell had no fury like a millionaire’s wife scorned.
Vivian was going to tear down the team one player at a time. She waved Cora away. She’d been around the Flash for two years. She knew their hang-ups, their insecurities, their physical weaknesses. She had less than a week to bring the Flash down. Then if Jack didn’t want her, she’d sign the divorce papers and move on.
To what?
She’d think about the future when she was clear of the Flash. For now, she had more damage to wreak.
“Ren, you must be happy that we signed Hugh Irving.” Viv sat down next to the seven-foot center. He was so large she felt like a child’s doll next to him. “How old are you?”
“Nearly thirty.” Ren’s eyebrows stretched toward his dark hairline.
“So old.” She patted his thigh. Eew. It was sweaty. She wiped her hand on her skirt. “I know these pre-season workouts have been hard on you. With Hugh Irving on the team, you’ll have lots of chances to rest on the bench.”
Ren blinked at her as if he was having trouble translating the meaning of her words.
“From what I’ve seen of Hugh, he’s good. And so young. He left college after his junior year.” So what if it took him five years to graduate from high school?
Ren’s eyes were huge saucers.
“This is a young man’s game.” Vivian stood and surveyed the team for her next victim. “Don’t you dare worry.”
One of the young coaching assist
ants called Ren back to play. Across the court from her, Trent Parker’s father studied her with a scowl on his face.
Antoine Watson dribbled on the sidelines near her. He was a favorite of the ladies on the nightclub scene and had a dark shiner.
“Antoine, honey. Come here.” Vivian hitched her hip and crooked her finger.
He tucked the ball beneath his arm and strutted over, not quite meeting her gaze.
“I hadn’t realized you were so short.” With her heels on, she was almost as tall as he was. She forced out a laugh, managing not to sound like a cartoon villain – brouhaha. “Why is it I never saw your baby mama at the games last season? I bet your son would love to see you play.”
Antoine rubbed a hand over his shaved head and flashed her a gold-toothed grin. “He’s two, ma’am. Anjawon enjoys watching the game from home.”
She contained her jealousy that Antoine had a child and she didn’t. “Is he living with you now?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Then you don’t get to see him enough.” She smiled and squeezed his sculpted bicep. “I’ll make sure Anjawon and his mother get front row tickets to pre-season games. Your son should visit you in the locker room before the game, too.”
“We aren’t allowed pre-game visitors in the locker room.” Antoine stiffened.
“We can make an exception for family. It’s best to enjoy the spotlight while you can. There’ll be many changes this season.” Vivian glanced up to see Trent bearing down on her. “You better run along, Antoine.”
“Excuse me, Mrs. Gordon.” Coach Parker’s Southern drawl made his greeting sound like a polite put-down. “We have limited practice time. I don’t mind if you sit on the sidelines, but please don’t interrupt practice.”
“You’re a very attractive man.” Viv faced him, sidling into Trent’s space. “And that accent has a way of purring around the base of a woman’s spine.” She turned, letting her hand drift between them, the back of which nearly grazed his package beneath his basketball shorts. Any unwanted touch would be a lawsuit. She wasn’t that desperate. But she was on a mission to shake things up. “I can see why Cora tapped you the day you met.”
“Mrs. Gordon.” He pulled back slowly, steelier than she’d thought he’d be based on his slow, deliberate way of speaking. “I’m still learning the ways of the big city. But my mama always taught me to be respectful of others and not to spread rumors.”
Rumors? Ha! She’d seen the way Cora and Trent looked at each other. They’d done the dirty deed. “Thank you for the advice, Coach. And I’ll try not to interrupt your practice again.” Vivian hurried out.
She had seven days to sink or swim.
~*~
If Cora’s pink bedroom hadn’t made Trent feel sleazy, Vivian’s thinly veiled come-on would have.
Not that he believed she wanted to screw him physically. She’d been on a voodoo mission to mess with his players’ heads, succeeding in two cases. And with the threat of a trade involving Evan, she was messing with Trent, too.
Trent signaled for Ren to come off the court during the afternoon’s scrimmage. “You’re playing like someone took your doll away.”
“My apologies, Coach.” The tall center wouldn’t look Trent in the eyes.
“You’re my center. I need you to focus.”
“I am just realizing I am old.”
Trent did a double-take.
“Excuse me.” Cora’d been sitting on the bleachers involved with her phone since Vivian left. “Can I have a word with Ren?”
Trent wanted to deny the request, but Ren looked so relieved, he waved them both away. If Trent had a sensitive senior assistant coach or a sports psychologist on staff, he would’ve had them take Ren aside. He didn’t trust young Randy or Berto to restore his center’s confidence. And Archie didn’t show his soft side to players.
“This is turning into a shit day, son.” Archie came to stand next to Trent. He tucked his clipboard beneath his arm. “Should I call my agent? He said he had a couple of job offers for me to review. I don’t want to leave you in a lurch, but sometimes you just have to cut bait and take your losses.”
“Dad…” I need you. “Give it another week. The players respect you.” As did Randy and Berto. It surprised Trent how much advice Archie had to give – not about the mechanics of the game, but about playing with a cool head and being mentally prepared for your opponent.
His father clapped him on the shoulder, making Trent feel guilty for not telling him all his plans for the team. “I’ll stick with you, son.” He moved further down the sideline to yell at Jablone for blowing defensive coverage.
Antoine was playing distracted, too. Trent subbed him out of the game.
“What gives? You’re second-guessing everything. I want you out there running the court and distributing the ball.” Trent tapped Antoine’s temple. “You’re thinking too much.”
Antoine rubbed a hand over his head. “Yeah, I was thinking. Maybe I take too many risks. Turnovers…that’s a hard stat to erase.”
“You let me be the judge of that.”
Antoine rocked side-to-side and made a non-committal noise.
“Watson!”
Antoine’s shoulders tensed. “Coach, I’ve been in the league five years. That’s the average career span in the NBA. If Mrs. Gordon puts me up for trade, coaches will look at my stats, including my turnovers. I have my family and a son to support. And – ”
“Flippin’ hell!” Everyone who heard Trent swear did a double-take, except his dad, who was smiling. The Reverend had cussed twice in one day. They probably thought he was losing it. “If I have a problem with the risks you take and the turnovers you make, I’ll let you know. Until then, it’s balls-to-the-wall speed with a good pass to the first open man or a shot if you see one, got me?”
“Yes, sir.” But Antoine had that faraway look in his eye.
“Do you want to sub, Coach?” Berto said.
“Yeah.” Trent pushed Antoine toward the court, then at the last second, pulled him back. “Wait. You go talk to Cora before you step back out there.”
God, make Jack Gordon healthy soon.
Trent was going to need a miracle to keep the team mentally strong.
~*~
“The wife of Jack said I was old!” Ren paced the corner of the practice gym.
Cora followed, trying to laugh, but finding nothing humorous in Viv’s tampering. “Ren, you’re not old. What are you? Twenty-seven?”
“I am twenty-nine. Almost off the cliff.”
“Hill,” Cora gently corrected. “Almost over the hill.”
“You agree I am old.” Ren’s forearms wheeled about as if seeking a target. “Old! A woman at a bar last weekend called me this.”
“Ren.” Cora captured both of the big man’s hands. His were twice the size of Trent’s. “I don’t think you’re old. You’re the pride of South Korea. Women send you marriage proposals on Twitter and Facebook.”
“My upset is not about women.” He looked over her head, clearly lying to himself.
“Hey,” Cora shook his hands gently. “What’s the problem?”
His dark eyes met hers. “Hugh Irving is coming tomorrow. He wants my position. Mrs. Gordon wants him to play center.” He hung his head. “I will no longer be the pride of South Korea. I will be forgotten and without a championship ring to make me live forever.” Before Cora could say anything else, Ren added softly, “And no woman will want to marry a man who is off the cliff.”
“Ren, you need to listen to me. You hold your basketball future in these big hands.” She put his hands together and tried to cradle them in her much smaller ones. “You trust Evan, don’t you?”
He nodded.
“Evan has put you in the best shape of your life. Your shot is fluid and powerful. You fit with this team.” With each argument she shook his hands. “Remember the last game against Houston? You had a triple-double.” Three key stats in double digits – points, assists, rebounds. “Do you rem
ember how that felt? In here?” She rubbed a spot on his chest over his heart. “Remember that feeling every morning when you wake up and every night before you go to bed. It’s why you’re the pride of South Korea.”
Ren closed his eyes. “I will remember.”
“Hugh Irving hasn’t played in the NBA in nearly a year,” she told him. “He’s out of shape. And when he gets here no one’s going to give him the ball. It’s hard to score if you don’t get the ball.”
Ren opened his eyes and perked up.
“And if you really want a steady girlfriend, stop going to nightclubs. Blue can fix you up.” With one of his really hot ex-girlfriends. Cora paused, considering the bitchy, high maintenance caliber of Blue’s ex-girlfriends. “On second thought, I’ll fix you up with someone really great.” Who that was, she had no idea.
“I would choose you as my Evening Star.” Ren pulled her into a bear hug that put his crotch nearly at boob level.
“Ren!” Trent called, sending Antoine and a dark look Cora’s way.
Ren trotted over to Trent. “I am going to marry Cora Rule.”
Trent leaned around his center to scowl at Cora.
“Don’t tell me. Let me guess,” Cora said when Antoine stood next to her. “Vivian said something to upset you.”
“She said she was trading me.”
“Really?” This was news that punctured Cora’s spirits, sinking them even deeper.
“Okay, she didn’t use the word trade. She said something about me enjoying the spotlight while I could.” Antoine pointed at himself with his thumbs and pinkies. “I can’t be traded. I have a life here. My kid is here.”
On a bright note, Antoine was thinking he was stock the Flash could trade. Cora wasn’t going to point out she didn’t think his market value was high. His turnovers killed his on-court value rating. “Your kid is a toddler. It’s not like he’s in high school and doesn’t want to move.”
“I just made arrangements with Destiny. I bought her a new house, a new car, and we settled on child support.”