Covering Kendall

by Julie Brannagh

  She sounded a little out of breath, like she was running. “Don’t send the phone there. I’ll call you with my address. I’d be happy to pay for the overnight shipping.”

  “It’s not a problem—”

  “We’re boarding now. Thank you so much,” she said.

  “You’re welcome. Have a good flight, Kendall.”

  “Okay. Thank you. Bye.”

  He heard the phone she was talking on disconnect, and silence.

  KENDALL SETTLED INTO her airplane seat as she handed her assistant’s phone back to her.

  “Thanks for the loan,” she said.

  Sydney grinned at her in response. “I could have gone to the Apple store for you before the game started.”

  “They didn’t open until eleven AM, and we were already at Sharks Stadium. My phone will be back on Tuesday.”

  Kendall tried to pretend like her heart wasn’t still racing after a few minutes of conversation with Drew. She kept her voice casual. “It’s a good thing the hotel bellman who found it is an honest guy.”

  “He could have sold your phone and the contacts on eBay for a fortune.”

  The guy who still had it could spend at least an evening scrolling through those contacts. She hoped he wouldn’t. The temptation might be too much to resist, though. He wouldn’t care about obtaining the cell phone numbers of the Miners’ front office. He might be interested in the contact info of others in the league, or giving her ex-boyfriend a call to chit-chat. The ex could be a problem. She almost groaned out loud.

  Drew would know who her ex was. Most pro athletes, especially football players, would know him. Unfortunately, she hadn’t at the time she’d met him. Tony Kelly was a sports apparel and shoes manufacturer. He’d picked her up at the ESPYs after-party two years ago. He was handsome, interesting, wealthy, charming, —and she didn’t find out until almost six months later—married. He’d started his business out of his garage fifteen years ago with two partners, one of whom was a former pro athlete and the public face of the business. Tony handled the behind-the-scenes stuff: dealing with the factories that made their merchandise, suppliers, and the stores that carried them. They were the hottest name in shoes and apparel, and most athletes asked to sign an endorsement deal with them did so quickly. Drew had chosen to sign with Under Armour instead. She wondered why.

  Before she met Tony, she’d never had much time to date. She’d started working for the Miners after school and on the weekends at sixteen, and climbing the corporate ladder after she graduated from Wharton Business School took most of her time and energy. She couldn’t believe she was lucky enough to meet a guy that was the living personification of her fantasies. She should have known it was too good to be true.

  Tony lived in the San Francisco suburbs, like her. She’d been to his place, which looked out over San Francisco Bay. There wasn’t a trace in the professionally decorated home of the wife and two under-five kids who lived in Connecticut. He made frequent business trips, but she never dreamed he was going “home” on those flights, supposedly to suppliers and buyers on the East Coast. She found out about his wife and family when Tony’s wife called her at work one day and asked if she’d like to be named in their divorce filing. Kendall dumped him minutes later.

  She couldn’t believe she’d been as stupid as every other mid-thirties single woman who met a guy that was everything she’d ever hoped for and believed his line of BS as a result. She flinched at the memory.

  Sydney leaned over the seat across the aisle and said, “I have an extra blanket. Want it?”

  The air in the cabin was still somewhat chilly, but Kendall wasn’t that cold.

  “I’m fine. Thanks.” She reached out for the Kindle she’d stuffed into the seat back and waited for the pilot to announce it was okay to turn on electronic devices. She’d left the work in her briefcase for a change. She’d be home again in ninety minutes, and shortly after she bought a disposable phone at the local grocery store, she’d be talking to Drew.

  THREE AND A half hours later, Drew was restlessly prowling his house. He’d tried reading a book. He attempted answering his e-mail. Video games weren’t even a distraction. He was always keyed up after a game, but tonight’s edginess was unusual for him. He should have gone out with the guys. A good dinner and a drink or two would have gone a long way to helping him settle down a bit.

  He jumped a little when he felt Kendall’s phone vibrate in his pocket. He pulled it out and stared at a number with a Los Angeles area code. She’d said she would call him; he’d better answer. He hit “talk” and said, “Kendall’s phone.”

  “Hello,” the man on the other end said. “Who’s this?”

  “Kendall has stepped away for a moment. May I take a message?”

  “I thought her assistant was a woman.” The guy let out a breath. “It’s Rick Thomason. I’m Sherman Washington’s agent. I understand the Miners are looking to make a change at the strong safety position. Would you ask her to give me a call at her earliest convenience?”

  Drew wondered if the Sharks’ front office knew Sherm was doing a little shopping ahead of free agency. He shouldn’t be surprised by this; he was used to teammates who were there one season and gone the next. He was a bit surprised at any Shark voluntarily going to the Miners.

  “I’ll do that. Does she have your number?”

  “You must be new. She talked with me last week,” the guy said and hung up.

  He walked into the kitchen and pulled the refrigerator door open. A piece of fruit might hit the spot before he went to bed. Who was he kidding? He wouldn’t sleep until he talked with Kendall again. He hoped for a little more conversation. He was also a bit concerned about Thomason’s calling her at ten PM Sunday night on the West Coast. Did he want to talk about his client, or was he about to ask Kendall out on a date?

  The cell phone in his other pocket vibrated, and he pulled it out. The display showed his parents were calling from their home in Wisconsin. He knew what time they went to bed. Midnight their time was too damn late for a social call.

  He dragged breath into his lungs and hit “talk.” “Mom?”

  “Son, it’s your dad. How are you doing?”

  “I’m fine. How are you?” He grabbed an apple out of the crisper. “It’s pretty late there. Is everything okay?”

  “We’re all doing well. Everyone came over for dinner earlier, and your nephew Hunter took his first steps. Your mother is thrilled.”

  “He’ll be running before football season is over,” Drew said, ignoring the pang he felt every time he heard about the family things he missed during the season. He went home to visit during the offseason, but he didn’t get to see the first teeth/first steps/ /first bike ride and the other “firsts” his nieces and nephews experienced. Maybe his sister had taken some pictures with her cell phone camera. He heard his dad’s low chuckle.

  “Probably. Son, we heard there was a storm in Seattle a couple of days ago. Everything looked normal during the game broadcast. How are you doing?”

  “The house has a generator, so I was fine. There’s some downed branches and stuff in my yard. Most of the people who lost power are online again.” He let out a long breath. “I expect extreme weather in Wisconsin. I don’t usually see it in Seattle.”

  “The newscasters said it was odd.”

  What was odd was his dad’s calling him at close to midnight his time to chat about the weather. His mom was usually where the chatty phone calls originated from. She wanted to tell him all about what his family was doing and how they were looking forward to seeing him soon.

  “Hey, Dad, did Mom go to bed already?”

  “She was pretty tired after cleaning up after everyone earlier,” his dad said. “She sends her love.”

  “I love her too. Dad, don’t you have to get to bed yourself pretty soon? You have to work tomorrow, right?”

  “I do. I guess I’d better hit the hay.” His dad was quiet for ten seconds or so. “We miss you, son.”


  “And I miss you, Dad. Give Mom a hug for me.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  Drew heard his dad’s phone click off and stared at his own phone. Something was wrong. His dad was in bed every night by ten. He awoke at five AM each morning, whether it was a workday or not. It was too late to call back tonight. Maybe he should call tomorrow morning, just to make sure nobody was sick or something else happened he should know about.

  He rinsed off the apple, grabbing the slicer his ex-girlfriend bought him out of a drawer. He dumped the apple slices onto a napkin so he wouldn’t dirty a plate and sat down at his kitchen table. The thought that there was something wrong at his parents’ house nagged at him. He took a bite of apple and ran over the last few conversations with his mom in his head. She’d seemed distracted. Even more, she seemed unusually tired. She mentioned the fact his dad complained about a bit more convenience food at dinner now that he and his siblings were out on their own. Drew had laughed it off at the time.

  “Mom, you’ve been spoiling Dad for thirty-five years. I’m sure some grocery store freezer case pasta and jarred spaghetti sauce won’t be the worst thing ever.”

  “Honey, he expects the same kind of dinners we had when you were young. Cooking that amount for two people is ridiculous.” She let out a sigh. “I shouldn’t complain.”

  “Tell Dad I keep hoping I’ll find someone like you to make me some freezer case pasta and jarred spaghetti sauce.”

  He remembered the little laugh she gave and knew her cheeks were probably pink with embarrassment. “You’re sweet.”

  “So are you, Mom.”

  He was so lost in thought that Kendall’s phone ringing in his pocket startled him again. He grabbed it out, hit “talk,” and said, “Kendall’s phone.”

  “Hi, Drew,” she said. “It’s nice to talk with you again.”

  Twenty minutes later, he’d relayed the agent’s message, written down her home address and office direct line, and promised to send her phone back by overnight mail to her house. Drew hit “end” on the call and stared into space, lost in thought.

  The phone would get to Kendall’s house, but if she worked the same hours as the Sharks’ GM did, there’d be nobody home to sign for it. He wasn’t going to send something so valuable overnight without making sure she got it back safely. She’d asked him twice to not send it to the Miners’ headquarters. She’d end up going to wherever the delivery facility was located to pick it up, which might be an even bigger problem.

  He rubbed his hand over his face and let out a groan. His concern about how he could return her phone in the most convenient way possible wasn’t self-serving at all. It had nothing to do with wanting to see her again, or spend a few more minutes chatting and laughing together. He’d go to the same lengths for anyone else.

  He shook his head and muttered, “No, I wouldn’t.”

  He got up from the table and put Kendall’s phone back on the charger. Maybe he’d figure out a better way to return the phone if he got a good night’s sleep.

  An hour later, he was still tossing and turning, but he’d made a decision. He sat up in bed and grabbed his smart phone off the bedside table. He pulled up an airline site and bought a ticket to San Jose, the closest airport to Kendall’s house.

  “Nothing like door-to-door service,” he said to himself.

  Chapter Five

  * * *

  THE MINERS’ GAME in Seattle was a disaster, and it was up to Kendall to get things back on track in her organization. She needed to find a way to accomplish this, as well as to make a dent in the typical workload on a Monday during football season, all without her typical phone. The throwaway phone wasn’t cutting it by any stretch of the imagination. Once again, she wished Drew had texted her the tracking number for the overnight delivery. For all she knew, the delivery box was sitting on her front porch right now in full view of passersby who’d want to help themselves to anything important enough to justify overnight delivery.

  If she wasn’t having enough fun already, she was hungry. And tired. The tired part probably had something to do with the fact that she had lain awake long into the night, thinking about Drew. She went up into the team suite at halftime of Sunday’s game because she was staring at him like a twelve-year-old. She’d prefer to keep the drooling over him private.

  She needed to wrap things up at the office and go home, but there was too much work still, which wasn’t getting done while she continued daydreaming over Drew.

  Kendall’s assistant, Sydney, skidded into her office with a bakery bag and a paper coffee cup.

  “You have to get out of here unless you want to spend the evening waiting at the FedEx place to claim your package,” Sydney said. “If you had had it sent to the office, I could have signed for it while you were in the meetings.”

  “I know.” Kendall wasn’t sharing with Sydney exactly why that was impossible. She frowned at the updated salary cap numbers on her iPad screen. “There’s too much work to do.”

  Sydney put the bag down on Kendall’s desk. “Turkey on whole wheat, thanks to that guy at the deli who has a crush on you. He also made you a triple-shot latte.”

  “He must have read my mind,” Kendall said as she dug her handbag out of her desk drawer. “How much do I owe you?”

  “The sandwich was six dollars. The coffee is on the house.” Without being asked, Sydney grabbed the soft-sided briefcase Kendall brought to the office each day and started loading it up with Kendall’s throwaway cell phone, iPad, and various printed reports to take home. “Eat your lunch while I finish this. You don’t want to be sitting on the freeway chowing down.”

  Sydney was going to graduate from Stanford and rule the world. Right now, Kendall was grateful she’d had the foresight to hire her before some other company snapped her up.

  “Is it too soon to give you another raise?” she joked.

  “Yeah,” Sydney said. They both laughed. “I just paid off my tuition bill for this quarter.”

  Sydney was in her next-to-last quarter at Stanford. Kendall was hoping that Sydney would choose to stay on with a somewhat reduced work schedule while she went to grad school. She’d need to have a chat with Sydney about her future plans. It was one more thing to add to Kendall’s towering to-do list.

  Kendall wiped her fingers on a paper napkin and extended her hand across the desk. “Thank you again for saving my life every day.”

  Sydney’s smile was brilliant as she shook Kendall’s hand. “It’s my pleasure.”

  Kendall let out a huge sigh of relief an hour later as she drove into the garage of her townhouse. Traffic was a nightmare as usual. Unless the guy had hidden it in the bushes, she didn’t see the tell-tale FedEx box leaning up against her front door. Her delivery hadn’t arrived yet.

  She hurried up the flight of stairs to the main living area of her house, dropped her briefcase on the kitchen table, and kicked off her high heels. She hadn’t been home this early on a workday for a while. She could make a big salad for dinner, pour herself a glass of wine, and do some work on the sunny patio in her postage-stamp sized backyard. She’d pulled the refrigerator door open to grab a bottle of pinot grigio when the front doorbell rang.

  “Just in time,” she said to herself as she crossed the living room to answer the door. She took a quick look through the peephole before answering; the delivery guy was tall and blond. He also wasn’t wearing a FedEx uniform.

  She was suddenly breathless.

  “Drew,” she said.

  DREW HAD PULLED up in front of Kendall’s townhouse development twenty minutes ago after driving through the streets of Santa Clara. He was more of an LA guy after spending four years of his life there, but he glanced around at a tidy, upscale community drenched in sunshine as he drove. He loved playing for the Sharks and he’d almost got used to Seattle’s weather over the past couple of years, but the warmth and blue skies lured him again. He wouldn’t mind spending some time here again soon.

  He knew the chances K
endall was already home from the office were slim to none. He’d brought a book along to keep him company. He could hang out here on the other side of the street for a little while before the neighbors called the cops.

  Minutes later, a late-model, latte-colored Lexus crossover turned the corner onto Kendall’s street, and he recognized her behind the wheel. He waited until she drove into the garage and the door lowered behind her car before parking his rental car in her driveway. He reached out for the bouquet of flowers he’d bought and patted his front jeans pocket to make sure her phone was still there before opening the car door.

  He climbed the flight of stairs to her front door, rang the doorbell, and waited. He heard her voice a minute or so later through the door.

  “Drew.”

  She pulled the door open. Her eyes flew wide. He saw a flush moving over her cheeks. She looked a bit startled, but she smiled at him.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Special delivery.” He held out the bouquet of flowers. “I have your phone too.”

  She took a deep, appreciative sniff of the bouquet and said, “You didn’t have to do this.”

  “I wanted to,” he said. They stared at each other for a few seconds, or an eternity. He told himself to breathe. “May I come in?”

  “Oh! Oh,” she said. “Of course. Please.”

  She moved back, pulling the door open enough for him to step inside. He moved over the threshold into her house. They were still staring at each other, and she licked her lips. He tried and discarded twenty things to say to her in his head. Maybe he should keep things light. He reached into his pocket, pulled out her cell phone, and handed it to her.

  “I believe this belongs to you,” he joked.

  Her fingertips lingered as she took the phone out of his hand. He felt the tingle all the way up his arm.

  “It does. Thank you so much,” she said. The phone vibrated with an incoming call, and she shook her head a little.