by V. K. Sykes
“I wish I could convince her to reconsider, but there’s not much hope of that happening if I can’t even talk to her.”
“I’ve got a thought about that,” Brendan said, kicking back in the tilting chair and swinging his feet up onto the polished surface of the table.
“Go ahead,” Julian answered from across the room.
“The last day we golfed in Vegas—the day you went to New York—Torrey told us about all the calls she’d made and letters she’d written to companies she thought might be possible sponsors.”
“Go on.”
“One of them stuck in my mind—Crocus Financial.”
“Ah, now I see where you’re going,” Julian said, sitting back down across from Brendan. “Dan O’Hara.” O’Hara, the president of Crocus, a highly successful financial management company, was an old friend from their MIT days.
“I’m sure Dan would help us out, especially if we put up the money behind the scenes,” Brendan suggested.
Julian thought it over for a moment. “Torrey would be suspicious if Crocus called her out of the blue with an offer. Like I said, she has a lot of pride.”
“Of course,” Brendan replied. “That’s the point. You want to get credit for it, don’t you?”
He jolted upright in his chair. “Absolutely not. I wouldn’t want her to know I played any part in it. She’d likely turn it down because she’s so pissed off at me.”
“I just thought you could help Torrey out and get back in her good graces at the same time.”
If only it were that easy. Julian fully realized he had screwed up, and he didn’t know what it would take to get through to Torrey. Maybe he shouldn’t even try, but at least he could attempt to correct this mistake. And this time, he’d do it right.
“If we can help her, we should do it, but with no strings attached.” He grabbed his phone off the table and scrolled through his contacts list until he had Dan O’Hara’s cell phone number. “I’ll call Dan right now and ask him for the favor. But we’re not going to pay him to do it. With Torrey, that would backfire for sure. Dan will either sponsor her or he won’t, and I’ll live with whatever decision he makes.”
* * *
Torrey trudged up to her apartment, worn out as usual from a long day on the golf course, but thankful she had the night off from the casino. She knew she shouldn’t complain about either of her jobs—she counted herself lucky to still have them after bailing on both the casino and CaddyGirls the previous week.
Yesterday she’d actually felt happy for Julian when she caught the news on CNN that OverTheEdge Games and Apollo Software had finally agreed on merger terms. That surprised her, given how angry and devastated she’d been just a short time ago, but as she watched the pictures of him flash up on her small TV screen, she couldn’t deny that she was still totally crazy about him. She longed to call and congratulate him and to tell him that she wished him well, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not after all the ugly things they had said to each other during that last terrible phone call.
Ten long days had passed since she’d hung up on him. He’d left a few messages, all very brief, just asking her to give him a call. But the messages had stopped after a week. It had been hard not to pick up the phone—every fiber in her body screamed at her to do it. But she’d given him every chance to apologize, every chance to tell her how sorry he was for deceiving her and using her in that sophomoric bet. She ached to forgive him and get him back in her life, but he had to make the first step. And the first step was a sincere and full apology. Unfortunately, she knew she shouldn’t hold her breath for that.
Torrey sighed as she let herself into her cramped and slightly shabby apartment. She’d taken a lightning-fast roller coaster ride from a solitary life without much hope of achieving her dreams to falling in love with a man she thought would help her reach the stars. But the coaster had taken her all the way back down to where she’d started—working two low-paying jobs with no sponsor in sight.
Right now life sucked, but she’d get over it. She’d gotten over worse before, and she’d get over this too.
She checked her voice mail. Two messages. The first was from Cherie, suggesting a movie tomorrow night. The second almost made her collapse to the floor. The perky voice on the machine belonged to a woman named Lindsay Moore, who identified herself as the assistant director of public affairs for Crocus Financial Corporation. The message said Moore wanted to talk to her about her request for sponsorship. Torrey wrote down the Los Angeles number and dialed it immediately.
“Oh, hello, Ms. Green,” the same bouncy voice answered after the receptionist put Torrey through. “Thank you for calling back so quickly.”
“Of course, Ms. Moore,” Torrey said, trying to sound calm.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t return your call before this. But I think you’ll be pleased with my news.”
Torrey’s heart raced. She should say something, but before she could get her head around a simple response, Lindsay Moore continued. “We’ve recently increased our sponsorship budget, so we reviewed a number of existing applications again. Frankly, yours impressed us. We think you’re a good fit for our organization, both demographically and in terms of image.”
This time, Torrey did slide right down to the floor, leaning her back against the kitchen counter.
“Ms. Green, Crocus is prepared to offer you a contract for the balance of this calendar year. I understand you’re looking for support to take you through the LPGA Qualifying School, is that correct?”
“Yes—yes, it is,” she managed to choke out. “Oh, my God, Ms. Moore, this is incredible! Thank you so, so much.”
“Call me Lindsay. Are you available to come to L.A. later this week? Say, Friday? My director would like to meet you, and there are a few details to be worked out. We’ll also do a photo shoot, of course, so email me your sizes.”
A photo shoot! Torrey scrambled to focus her wits. “Friday’s perfect. And I’ll get the information to you this afternoon,” she stammered into the phone.
“Great. Do you have any questions, Ms. Green?”
“Please call me Torrey. And um, no, I don’t think I have any questions. None that I can think of right now anyway.” She knew she sounded borderline incoherent, but hopefully Lindsay would understand.
“Then we’ll see you Friday. My secretary will call with the travel details.”
“I’ll wait for her call.”
Torrey got to her feet and gently replaced the phone in its cradle. Then she let out a piercing shriek that probably had her elderly neighbor dialing 9-1-1. It felt like she’d won the lottery. Though she’d made another round of calls last week to her list of potential sponsors, Crocus had always been just a flier. They had only one other golfer in their stable—and he ranked in the top fifty players in the world. She’d figured the chances they’d risk money on a golfer who didn’t even have her tour card were close to zero. It didn’t really make sense, and she was too stunned to try to figure it out, but maybe she could get an explanation from Lindsay Moore next week about why Crocus was prepared to take a chance on her.
In the meantime, she had some serious celebrating to do.
* * *
“I told you your luck would get better, Tee.” Cherie Summers held up her champagne glass for another toast.
Torrey rapped her knuckles against the side of the wooden chair. “Knock on wood,” she said with a soft laugh. “I know life has its ups and downs, but this is freaking ridiculous.”
She and Cherie were celebrating over dinner at the Venetian. Neither of them could really afford it, but the sponsorship had changed everything.
“Let me get this straight,” Cherie said. “This company called right out of the blue and offered you sponsorship money?”
“Not completely out of the blue. I’d contacted them a couple of months ago, but I didn’t even get a response. Then last week, after…” She took a deep breath, finding it nearly impossible to talk about the debacle wit
h Julian.
“After you broke up with Julian Grant,” Cherie said, completing her sentence.
“After I decided not to sign with his company,” Torrey corrected. “I wasn’t prepared to give up, so I went back to my lists and called practically every company that’s ever sponsored a golfer. Miracle of miracles, Crocus Financial called me back.”
“That’s pretty incredible. But you totally deserve it. Nobody’s worked harder to come back than you have.”
“Thanks, Cher.”
“What happened between you and Julian, anyway? We haven’t really had a chance to talk about it. Everything seemed great before you went to see him in California.”
“It had nothing to do with California. The problem happened right here.” Torrey stopped herself quickly before elaborating.
“Come on, Tee, don’t be so mysterious. You know I can keep my mouth shut.”
Torrey sighed and tossed back the remaining champagne in her glass. “I know you can. Hey, I’m up for another of these.” She raised her glass. “How about you?”
“Why not?”
She scanned the room, trying to locate their server. “Okay, then, here’s the Cliffs Notes version of the sordid little affair I got caught up in. Julian and his partners didn’t book us just to caddy for them. It turned out they had a whole other agenda—a crazy bet going on behind our backs. If you can believe it, the winner would be the first guy who got his caddy in the sack.”
Cherie gasped. “You have got to be kidding!”
Torrey gave her a weak smile. “Pathetic, isn’t it? Unfortunately it’s also true. And the worst part is that Julian didn’t say a word to me about it—not even after I spent the weekend at his house.”
“God, maybe he was just too embarrassed. He sure should have been.”
“Maybe. But that’s no excuse. From day one, our relationship was built on deceit. It makes me crazy to think he deliberately picked me off the web site with his secret little goal in mind.”
“So you broke it off completely? With no second thoughts?”
Torrey sighed. “God, no. I’ve had a thousand second thoughts. But I felt so damn betrayed and humiliated. And even after I confronted him, he wouldn’t apologize. He treated it like it was all just a minor annoyance. I can’t live with that, Cher. I had to break it off before I fell even deeper in love with him.”
Cherie held her silence for several long seconds, before shaking her head. “Tee, what those guys did was rotten, but are you sure you aren’t letting your pride get in the way? Julian did call you, wanting to talk. And I definitely get the feeling you’re still in love with him.”
Torrey had tried all week to deny that, but the truth squeezed her heart. “You may be right,” she said miserably. “I can’t seem to help myself.”
“Does the news from Crocus make any difference to how you feel?”
Torrey had thought of little else since Lindsay Moore called. She’d been amazed at how quickly her thoughts had turned from elation over the call to her feelings about Julian. The first thought that crossed her mind was to call him and gloat.
See, I could do it without you!
But that juvenile reaction had evaporated like morning mist, and a deeper realization began to set in—that maybe she’d been a little crazy to throw everything away just because Julian had acted like a jerk. And now she could finally admit that she’d handled the whole confrontation pretty badly herself. No, she couldn’t forgive him without the sincere and heartfelt apology that he seemed incapable of giving. But she shouldn’t have refused to take his calls—that had been petulant and rude. Now that she no longer needed his patronage, she was finally able to think about things more rationally.
“Maybe it does make a difference,” she finally answered. “Maybe it does.”
Chapter 18
Julian had never liked to ask for a favor, not even from an old friend like Dan O’Hara. His mother and father had drilled it into him that to be truly successful you had to get there entirely on your own, without a handout or even a hand-up from anybody. So calling Dan had been hard, even though the favor he sought wasn’t for him. It had surprised him how much he’d hoped Dan would say yes.
O’Hara hadn’t hesitated. Julian didn’t even have to use the word favor. His friend had picked up right away that there was something deeply personal behind Julian’s request and agreed to put Torrey on his sponsorship list without pressing for more information.
As Julian stood at his office window, staring at the setting sun, a persistent thought nagged at him. Torrey would almost certainly be suspicious of the sudden offer from Crocus. When Dan had called him back to say the deal was done, he’d simply said she had been elated. The manager that had spoken to her hadn’t detected even a hint of hesitation. Certainly no questions had been asked.
Though he doubted she’d know of any link between OTE and Crocus, Torrey could probably Google some connection between him and Dan. Still, there was nothing to be done about it. He had to try to help her—to repair the damage from his stupid mistake.
With each day that passed, he better understood the dimensions of his obsession with the Apollo merger. He’d been so enmeshed in it that he hadn’t been able to hear Torrey’s pain. It had taken a long time for it to sink in that she perceived the bet—and his silence in the face of it—to be a betrayal of her trust. He’d heard her words but had blown them off as overreaction. He hadn’t intended to hurt her, and he’d delivered on the sponsorship, so it hadn’t even occurred to him that she’d see the bet as fatal to their relationship. A blow, yes, but not a killing stroke.
Because you’re a hard-headed asshole who couldn’t see past his own selfish needs.
It made him crazy that Torrey had slammed the door in his face and shown no inclination since to open it even a crack. She’d gone incommunicado, refusing to return his calls.
Nothing in his past had prepared Julian for such a rejection. At first, he hadn’t been sure whether the constant gnawing in his gut came from the idea of being dismissed from Torrey’s life or from actually missing her. But now he knew—he hated being without her. Even though he had tried a thousand times to deny it, his gut and his heart told him it was true.
There was a soft rap of knuckles on his door, then Brendan strolled in.
“Another spectacular sunset,” he said, sauntering over to the sofa.
“Working late again?”
“I just thought I’d see how you’re doing before I head home.”
“Thanks, but I’m fine,” Julian said with a conviction he didn’t feel.
“Well, you don’t look so fine to me. In fact you look like your mind is miles from here. Like in a neighboring state, maybe?”
“Maybe.” Julian sat down at his desk. “Dan O’Hara signed Torrey up. I barely had to ask.”
“I thought he’d come through,” Brendan said with a grin. “Now, are you going to call her?”
Julian stiffened, and Brendan shook his head. “Come on—just call her and apologize for the bet. You know you want to.”
Julian got up and poured himself a scotch from the liquor cabinet hidden in a wall unit opposite his desk. He raised the bottle of Johnnie Walker Black toward Brendan, who shrugged.
“Oh, I might as well have a quick one. I don’t have anything to rush home to.”
Julian handed him a crystal tumbler with two fingers of scotch, neat. “Sometimes I wonder whether that’ll ever change. We’re here so much we might as well build apartments inside the building.”
“Stop avoiding my question,” Brendan replied.
Julian took a long drink from his glass. “I don’t think I can do that.”
“Answer my question, or call her?”
Brendan was trying to tread lightly around the subject, but Julian knew how much his buddy cared for him and how concerned he was about his morose state of mind. “Call her, smart ass.”
“Why the hell not?”
“She’s acting like a brat. I’ve trie
d to reach out to her, but she just ignored me. It’s up to her to call me back.” He stopped short, annoyed by how petty he sounded.
Brendan looked like he wanted to throttle him. “Talk about bratty,” he muttered. “Look, we’ve known each other all these years, and I’ve never seen you like this over a woman. Any woman. Every day I see it eating you from the inside out. So stop being so damn proud and reach out to her, for God’s sake. You know you’re going to regret it if you sit here on your ass and let her go.”
Brendan could be a nag and a fussbudget, but over the years Julian had learned his friend was usually right. Maybe spending all that time dealing with practicalities gave him the common sense to cut to the chase.
As much as Julian tried to convince himself that his feelings for Torrey weren’t that different from what he’d felt for some other girlfriends, he knew it was time to stop lying to himself. In a few short days, Torrey Green had draped herself around his heart like Spanish moss on the branches of a live oak. The complicated and tense merger negotiations had distracted him for a time, but since they’d concluded the deal, he’d barely been able to get her out of his mind for even a minute. In fact, he hadn’t been able to keep his mind on work at all, and that was a first.
Brendan was right. It was time to make a move, and soon.
But what?
* * *
Torrey woke up from her night out with Cherie hung over, bone tired and troubled. Once the initial exhilaration of the call from Crocus had ebbed away, the kismet of the new sponsorship offer began to nag at her again. Back at her apartment, she’d sat up into the early morning hours thinking Julian had to be involved and wondering how he had managed to pull it off. As much as she tried to deny it, there was no other logical explanation. Somehow he’d found some strings and pulled them. A man as powerful and well connected as Julian Grant must have countless markers he could call in when he needed to.