Out of nowhere, Marcus enters the kitchen, takes one look at my expression, and walks straight towards Ryker. “Hey, buddy, what brings you out here tonight?” Marcus gives him a pat on the shoulder and a handshake, but it’s more posturing than it is friendliness.
“I just stopped in to check on the kitchen crew and I just happened to run into Jette.” Ryker takes a big draw from his water bottle. He’s not letting Marcus intimidate him.
“Well, it looks to me like you’ve had your little reunion and I think it’s time for you to hit the road.” I hope Ryker gets the not-so-subtle message.
He tosses his water bottle across the room and into a nearby trashcan. “What, are you his little whipping boy, doing all Big Mac’s dirty work for him? Did he send you in here to retrieve his trophy so he can wave it out in front of everyone?”
“What did you just call me?” Marcus asks, moving swiftly and menacingly closer to Ryker.
“You heard me just fine,” Ryker bites back.
The doors burst open. Evan and Derek come purposefully walking through the doors. “What the fuck are you doing here? I thought we already took out the trash,” Derek barks.
“Do we have a problem here?” Evan asks, standing in front of me and blocking me. The four men stare each other down. It frightens me.
“No, there’s no problem,” Ryker says. “I was just having a nice friendly conversation with Jette, that’s all.”
“I don’t think so,” Evan challenges. “If you have something to say to her, you say it in front of me.”
“Why? Are you afraid that I’ll tell her things you don’t want her to hear? Scared that she’ll see right through you and your little media grab?” he scoffs.
Evan’s voice becomes loud and deep, bellowing a warning to Ryker. “You don’t know what you’re talking about Ryker. So why don’t you just shut the fuck up, take that piece of shit cycle of yours, and get the hell out of here.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Ryker mocks. “Just keep lying and pretending. You’re good at that, putting on a show, performing. That’s what you do, right?”
Marcus can see the blood boiling in Evan’s veins and steps in. “I think that’s enough. We’re done here.”
“Not even going to deny it, are you, McGuire? Why don’t you just tell her? Tell her how this entire engagement was all Adam’s idea. Tell her how he arranged for the press to be there at the restaurant. Tell her how you’re leaking that video to the press as we speak.”
“She knows I invited the press. I have nothing to hide.” Evan turns to me, and tries to usher me out the door.
“Evan, is it true? Did you release our proposal to the media? Did you stage the whole thing?” I ask, afraid of the answer.
Evan grabs my shoulders and locks his eyes on mine. “No! Of course not. You spoke to the press and showed them your ring. That’s it, and that’s all they are going to get from me. From us. Don’t let him do this to us, Juliette. He’s just trying to get under your skin, that’s all.”
I pull away enough to make eye contact with Ryker, “Why are you doing this to me? This has been one of the happiest days of my life until you showed up. Please just leave, Ryker.”
“Next time you show up, you use the front door. This is not your little playground. You don’t work here anymore. You don’t belong here anymore. You don’t know anyone here anymore. Are we clear?” Ryker makes a sucking sound with his tongue and teeth. “Are we clear?” Evan demands.
“Crystal.” Ryker placates him with a response, trying to appear indifferent. He looks at the three men and adds, “I meant no harm.” He turns and walks away.
Marcus slams the back door and locks it. “I’m changing those locks first thing in the morning.”
I turn and walk away, upset and rattled. Evan follows after me, and corners me before I make it back into the bar. “Juliette, no matter what you tell me, I’m not going to be upset, but I have to know. I’ve asked you this before, but I have to ask one more time. Did anything ever happen between the two of you while we were broken up?”
“No, Evan. Nothing ever happened.” I try to assuage his concerns.
He takes a deep cleansing breath. “I don’t get it, then. Did you ever say anything? Give him any kind of an indication that there might be something between you two?”
“I swear to you, I never said anything or did anything to make him think that. I don’t understand what’s happening.” I rub my face as hard as I can, trying to get it all to make some sort of sense. It’s no good. “Why did he say all those things about putting on a show? Is any of it true?”
“You know it is, I told you myself. Adam arranged for the press to be there. But it has absolutely nothing to do with my game on Friday and everything to do with how much I love you.” He wraps me up in his strong arms and I can feel his heart beating ferociously. Ryker really must have hit a nerve.
“So that video Jocelyn took isn’t being sent to the networks? I’m not going to see it broadcast on television?” I ask.
“No. Absolutely not. Seeing it here in our restaurant is one thing, but I would never put it out there like that.” He kisses me on the head. “I swear.”
“Okay, then. Let’s move on.” He takes me by the hand and we return to our friendly little gathering. Evan doesn’t let me out of his sight for the remainder of the night. I see him talking in hushed tones to Derek and Marcus, no doubt giving them both explicit instructions about what they are to do in the event of Ryker’s return. I hope it doesn’t come to that.
The next day, Evan and I sleep in late together. The past forty-eight hours have been exciting, exhilarating, and exhausting. He has no practice today and I don’t have to be at the restaurant until the evening shift.
As I’m in the shower, my mind wanders to the letter from Averee I have hidden away. Guilt grabs a hold of me, and I know what I must do. Evan has proven to me over and over again how strong he is. No matter what the letter may contain, I know he’ll be able to handle it and do the right thing.
Once I’m dressed, I grab the letter and walk shamefully into the kitchen where I find Evan reading the newspaper. I take a seat at the table with him and hand him the letter.
“What’s this?” he asks, glancing at the letter. He turns it over and sees the return address written in Averee’s handwriting.
“It came for you yesterday. I was going to wait until after the game to give it to you. Please don’t be mad,” I plead.
“Baby, I can’t be mad at you for trying to protect me. What do you think we should do?” he asks, turning the letter over and over in his hand.
“It’s addressed to you, so it’s completely up to you, chief.”
“I say we burn it.” Evan walks over to the gas-powered fireplace. He opens the fireplace controls and presses the ignition button. Like magic, the ceramic logs ignite, and a small fire burns brightly
“Are you sure about this?” I ask.
“One hundred percent certain. I have no desire to hear anything she might have to say.” He tosses it into the fire and watches it burn. Grabbing a fire poker, he pushes it around to make sure that it burns entirely and completely. Once satisfied, he turns off the fire, smiling broadly. “I’m starved. Let’s go get breakfast.”
I don’t think Evan will ever mention this again. I’m glad I did the right thing.
We return to my favorite rustic breakfast shack, The Mariner’s Cove, for a hearty brunch. “Getting your usual, chief?” I ask. Evan likes to get the three-egg omelet with sides of sausage, bacon, and hash browns. Since practice has begun again, he’s been eating like a horse. Sometimes it’s best if we eat out. I can’t keep up with his caloric demands.
While we wait for our meal, I decide to ask Evan a little more about the game he loves so dearly. “Can you explain something to me about football?” I ask. “I’m confused. Why are you playing on a Friday night? I thought Sunday was reserved for football, along with Monday and Thursday nights. When did you start playing
on Fridays?”
“This isn’t the regular season, baby – it’s preseason and these games are called exhibition games. In August, we play on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays. We don’t have a Sunday game on this year’s preseason schedule, but some teams do.”
“Okay, but why the different schedule? Wouldn’t it be easier to just keep to the same schedule as regular season?” I ask.
Evan chuckles at me. “I’m not sure. I never thought to ask why, it’s just the way it is.” Before I can ask more questions, our meals arrive. Evan ordered so much that his meal is served on two separate plates.
In between bites, Evan brings me up-to-date on his itinerary for the week. “I have to be at the airport by two o’clock on Thursday. I’ll be on the plane by two-thirty and we’ll land in Detroit around four-thirty. I’ll call you when we get to the hotel.”
“What will you do with all that free time? The game’s not until Friday night.” God, I’m going to miss him.
“We have a seven o’clock curfew on game nights. We’ll all have dinner together, and then head back up to our rooms for the night. The coaches want us to get a minimum of ten or eleven hours of sleep before a game.”
Evan is looking at me with his deep blue eyes and I miss him already. “Juliette, sweetheart, you look deep in thought. Is everything okay?”
“No, not really. I’m just thinking about how much I’m going to miss you, that’s all.”
Evan takes my hand and raises it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the top of my hand. “It’s only for one night, baby. We’ll be flying home right after the game. I’ll be in late, way past midnight. Will you wait up for me?”
“You know I will. Besides, I’ll probably just be getting home myself. I think I’m closing Friday night. There’s this big football game on and I’m guessing the restaurant will be packed. It’s a shame you’ll miss it.”
As we’re finishing our meal, Evan’s phone goes off. It’s Adam. I recognize the ringtone. Its AC/DC’s decadent hit-man confessional, “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap”. I can’t help but chuckle to myself at the irony of that particular song selection, given everything I’ve been piecing together about Adam’s business practices.
I listen to Evan’s conversation and I can hear he’s getting irritated. He tells Adam the answer is an emphatic “no”, but I have no idea what the question is. Adam must be putting on a hard sell, because Evan is getting increasingly frustrated. Finally, he ends the conversation by saying, “Fine, I’ll ask her. But I’m telling you, the answer is ‘no way’.”
Evan looks up at me shaking his head. “What does Adam need you to check with me about?” I ask.
“He wants to release the video. Our video. Word is out there that the video exists, and he’s getting calls like crazy asking us to release it. Adam thinks it’s a good move, but I don’t. The things I said that day were for you, and no one else. I think I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Well, I agree, but I do see Adam’s point. Did you see everyone’s reaction to that video last night?” He shakes his head, and I continue to explain. “Every woman in that restaurant wanted you, chief. And every man wanted to be you.” I let that sink in for a moment. “No business manager worth his salt would leave that one in the vault. It’s worth more to him and more to you if it’s out there.”
“I don’t know, maybe you’re right. But the way I look at it, I don’t need it. I have a big Playtime Incentive package on the way and we just got the first royalty payment for my commercials for Top Dog Sports Drink. I’m not exactly hurting for income or media attention right now.”
“Evan, I never asked about your business arrangement with Adam, because, frankly, it was none of my business. But now that we’re getting married, I think it’s okay to ask. I know Adam is employed by the team, but does he get paid from you, too? How does that work?”
“I have an agent who negotiates contracts, but I still keep Adam on my payroll as my business manager. We have a long-standing agreement. He earns every bit of the small one-percent cut I pay him.”
“So, if you get a one point five million dollar bonus, Adam gets a fifteen thousand dollar bonus, too?”
“He does.”
“And your two-million dollar endorsement deal? Did he get a cut of that, too?”
“Of course.”
“So, the more money you make, the more money he makes, right?”
“Yes, Juliette, that’s how it works. What’s your point?”
“I know we’ve had this discussion before, Evan, but I don’t think all of Adam’s advice is good for you on a personal level. Yes, he’s helped your career tremendously. But you’ve made it. You’re at the pinnacle of your professional career, and I think you need to think about protecting your personal life more vigorously than ever. Maybe that’s my job now.”
“Are you telling me you want a cut of my salary, too? My agent gets three percent, Adam gets one, and how much do you want?”
“I don’t think you need to put me on salary. I think we can come up with a more creative payment package.” I run my foot up and down his leg, making sure he knows exactly what sort of terms I have in mind.
“If you’re willing to negotiate, I can think of a few incentives we could work into the agreement.” Evan has the biggest, goofiest grin I’ve ever seen on his face. I melt inside just looking at him.
“Only if I get to add a few clauses of my own.”
“Deal. Let’s go home and do some market research first.”
“Not until you call Adam back and tell him you were right about our private lives being just that – private.”
“With pleasure.”
We finish our breakfast and return home. I have a few hours before I have to be at the restaurant. Evan goes up to his gym to get in a good workout while I get ready for work. Just as I’m about ready get changed, I get a call from Emmy.
“Jette, I need a favor. One of my contacts fell out and I can’t find it. Can you please stop at my house and pick up my glasses on your way to work?”
“Um, sure Emmy. Is Adam home to let me in? Where are your glasses?” I ask.
“No, Adam’s not home. You have to use the spare key to let yourself in. My glasses should be right on the dresser in the bedroom.”
“I don’t have a spare key to Adam’s house, Emmy.”
“Of course you do, that’s why I’m calling. Evan has a copy of Adam’s house key. Just ask him, he’ll give it to you.”
“Okay, Emmy, I can do that for you. Give me about an hour or so and I’ll be there. Will you be alright until I get in?”
“I’ll be fine. I can make drinks with my eyes closed. It’s just hard for me to see the register to ring up the sales, that’s all. It’s a little slow right now, so Clare is ringing for both of us. No worries. See you in a little while. Thank you so much, Jette. You really are a lifesaver.”
“No problem, Emmy. I’m glad I can help.”
Once I’m ready, Evan gives me the key and I head straight to Adam’s house. Just as Emmy said, Adam’s not home. I turn the key to let myself in and the house is empty. I’ve only been in his home a few times, and being here alone is odd. I feel strangely out of place.
I walk down the hall towards the bedroom and I pass by an open room. Curiosity gets the better of me and I peek my head in for a look. It has bookshelves, a filing cabinet, and a large desk with a laptop sitting on top – it’s Adam’s home office.
There is a wall filled with photographs of Adam’s life. I can’t help but wonder what kind of life Adam lived to this point. I really don’t know much about him, his family, or his childhood. Looking at the pictures help me piece together the history of this young man. He was crowned Prom King at his Senior Prom. No surprises there. There’s a charming picture of him in a football uniform pinning a flower on a woman I can only surmise is his mother. I know that high school seniors do that on the last game of their senior year.
Now that I’m standing alone in Adam’s office, I
get a visit from a pair of angels whispering in my ear. One angel is telling me to turn myself around, find Emmy’s glasses, and drive straight to work. But there’s a second, louder voice telling me that I will never again have a chance like this. I have an opportunity to look around for proof of my suspicions.
If I take a look and find nothing, no one ever has to know. No harm done. But if I do look and I find something damning, I’ll be glad I looked. On the other hand, if I don’t even try, I’ll always wonder. My mind is made up. I give myself ten minutes and not a moment longer.
There’s a desk with a few drawers, and as I open each, it’s clear I’m not going to find anything here. There are all kinds of things hidden, but nothing useful. There are pens, pencils, a few flashlights, and more batteries than he could possibly need in a year.
That leaves the filing cabinet. I open the top drawer, and it has hanging files with names I’ve never heard of. The second drawer contains files with familiar names. I flick through them and spot files on Troy Duffy, Shaun Marise, Matt Ortiz, Xander Parish, Carlo Rivera, and Anthony Santos. These are all Sentinels players. There are others, too, and I’m fairly sure they are more teammates.
In the third drawer, my mouth falls open when I see what’s inside. The very first file is labeled “Evan T. McGuire”. The one behind it is labeled “Averee DeVeau”. There’s even one marked “Laci Keilani”. I’m afraid to look inside that one.
I steel myself and pull out Evan’s file. It’s got lots of print outs, receipts, and copies of contracts. As I sift through the papers, I find old CT scans, contracts with the Texans and Sentinels, and reports from Dr. Geiselman. Right behind are several bills from a place called Script Source. Just by scanning the header on the document, I can easily see it’s a mail-in prescription service. The patient is listed as Evan T. McGuire and the medication is listed as Anadrol. There are three invoices, one from May, one from June, and another from July. All three are for the same drug from the same doctor, Dr. Jeffrey Katz. Who the hell is that? I grab the three invoices and stick them in my purse.
Running Home to You (The Running Series) Page 33