by Diane Moody
“We certainly would, honey. Michael, we’ll take a rain check, except we want you to be our guest up at the house. I insist. How can we get in touch with you?”
Michael grabbed a cocktail napkin off the bar and borrowed the gold Cross pen that Mr. Thomas extended toward him. It was engraved, Office of the United States House of Representatives. He smiled at the congressman then scribbled his name and phone number and handed it to Amelia. “I’ll look forward to hearing from you. Both. Anytime.” He felt like a schoolboy meeting his prom date’s dad for the first time. “It was a pleasure,” he added, making a quick escape.
After a whirlwind, highly-publicized romance, Michael and Amelia were married in one of Houston’s most memorable weddings. The marriage was a great fascination to Houstonians and sports fans alike.
For the groom, however, the fascination quickly wore off.
Amelia was as refined as she was beautiful. She was educated at an expensive private college in Texas where she belonged to the finest sorority while maintaining excellent grades. She continued to perform all the expected roles thrust upon her as a Houston debutante. When her mother died of cancer, Amelia assumed the position as her father’s escort to the perfunctory galas in both Texas and Washington. She thrived in the spotlight, loving the excitement and glamour of politics.
She was also very much in love with her handsome husband, a baseball star and celebrity in his own right. The perfect fan, Amelia attended every game, sitting with the wives and families of the other players. When they kept a polite distance from her, she nonetheless made every attempt to be one of them. She and Michael hosted several barbecues at their estate for the players and their families. She made every possible effort to be the best wife to Michael and best daughter to Elliot.
Sure, she had grown more beautiful with each passing year, but in Michael’s opinion she was still—well, boring. She was too beautiful, too proper, and much too refined. He realized his disappointment early in their relationship, but refused to believe it would ever be a serious problem for him. After all, this prize had come with unlimited opportunities and connections. What’s a little boredom at home when you have the world at your fingertips?
Furthermore, Michael knew that “Daddy” was more than pleased with his son-in-law. He introduced Michael to people and situations most people only dream about. Then, only a year after the marriage, Elliot approached Michael with a proposition: he would set up his son-in-law in any business venture he wanted. He promised Michael he would make sure this business would always be a success. Michael knew enough about Elliot Thomas by that time to realize the potential of such an assurance. It was a win-win situation. A gold mine for the asking.
Thus began The Sports Page. Michael had given considerable thought to what kind of company he would create. After all, the inevitable age crunch would someday send him to the locker room for one last time. He began dreaming of a line of stores selling sports equipment and athletic wear for every conceivable sport. In addition, the stores would share facilities with the ultimate athletic club. Michael would use only state of the art equipment in his weight rooms, gyms, courts, and locker rooms. He would cultivate a clientele that would give the club status and class. This would be no sweat tank. The Sports Page would make history.
And that’s exactly what it did. From that initial conversation with his father-in-law to the grand opening of his first facility, Michael personally oversaw every single detail to perfection. Even before the balloons deflated and the last of the confetti was swept away from the inaugural celebration, the empire of The Sports Page was well on its way. In only a few short years, while still continuing his career with the Astros, Michael witnessed his company’s growth as it exploded across the country. The Page, as it was nicknamed, soon took residence in almost every major city in America. Michael was indeed an American success story. After his retirement from baseball, his picture was more likely to be found on the front page of Fortune magazine than Sports Illustrated. He had tasted the best of both worlds.
Yes, life had been good to Michael Dean.
Now, years later, playing a round of golf with his old friend Jimmy was a welcome change of pace. Their usual teasing had lifted his spirits considerably as it always did. Jimmy and Michael had been good friends for many years. While Michael quickly worked his way up through the farm teams, Jimmy had taken the sports broadcasting world by storm. Whenever their paths crossed, they headed for the nearest golf course.
Relaxing over his second beer, Michael sat back on the barstool. Jimmy peered over his Diet Coke, casting a long hard look at his burly friend.
“If you don’t mind me butting in—”
“I do, so don’t.”
Jimmy smiled. “Michael, what’s eating you? What’s going on? Buddy, you and I go way back. You may be able to pull off this carefree façade with everybody else, but I can read you like a book. What is it?”
Michael toyed with a salt shaker for a long time before answering. “I don’t know, man. Got a lot on my mind, I guess. Didn’t realize I was so transparent. I’ll have to watch that.” His smile was half-hearted at best.
“C’mon, Michael. What gives? You and the queen having problems?” Jimmy had never taken Michael and Amelia’s marriage too seriously. He knew the old Michael Dean—the ball player with a girl in every city on the league schedule and then some.
Michael looked up and started to make another wise crack but stopped short. He spotted a familiar figure in a dark suit just over Jimmy’s shoulder, standing at the entrance to the grill.
Jimmy, reacting to the change in Michael’s demeanor, looked over his shoulder. “Friend of yours?”
Michael shifted uncomfortably. “No, just one of Elliot’s stiffs. These guys drive me insane,” he grumbled as he stood. “Listen, Jimmy, I gotta go. I’ll give you a call in a couple of days.” He patted his friend on his shoulder, “Good seein’ you, man. Keep working on that swing,” he mused, gesturing a practice swing of his own.
After quick instructions from Elliot’s body guard, Michael made his way down the hall to the private conference room. He knocked softly then opened the wide polished door. “Michael. How nice of you to join me. Here, have a seat. Fix yourself a drink. You look awful.”
Michael bypassed the open cabinet of liquor and took a seat across the broad table from Elliot Thomas. “Gee, thanks, Elliot. Nice to see you too.”
The congressman continued writing on his leather-bound pad. “Hard to run a corporate business from the greens, isn’t it? You getting tired of your career or just loafing off like the has-been jock you are?” The watery eyes of his father-in-law glanced up at him only briefly during his flippant attack.
“Come now, Elliot,” Michael countered. “You know that even hard working CEOs are entitled to an occasional day off now and then. Why? Has your spy network been feeding you lies about me again? What’s their method? Do they hide in the bathroom stalls and pick up tidbits of juicy gossip to pass along? Or have you got your hooks into the private day timer on my computer? Gee, I thought I’d covered all my bases. I must be slipping. Tsk tsk.”
Elliot continued writing as if he hadn’t heard a word. Then, quietly and methodically, he closed the valise, straightened his silk tie and folded his hands on the table.
“Michael, I see no reason why you and I can’t have a civilized conversation. It appears to me as though we have a bit of a problem. Something that needs immediate attention.”
“Oh yeah? It seems to me we have a number of problems. Which one did you want to address today?”
The congressman rolled his neck. “You’re absolutely right. We do have a number of problems. Very serious problems. But today I want to discuss Amelia.”
“Ah,” Michael whispered as though hearing a well-kept secret. “Yes, Amelia. Why am I not surprised that dear ol’ Dad wants to ‘discuss’ his perfect little girl with the evil son-in-law?”
“All right, cut the sarcasm. I’ve had just about enough.”
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“Good. That makes two of us. What do you propose we do about it?” Michael began swiveling his chair from side to side hoping to portray an air of indifference.
“I understand you have begun divorce proceedings.”
Michael stopped cold. “You don’t waste any time, do you? What, have you got my attorney’s office bugged as well?”
Totally undaunted, Elliot responded. “Don’t change the subject. I want some answers and I want them now.”
Michael took a deep breath and slowly began rocking his chair again. He hated himself for allowing Elliot to get under his skin like this. He glared back at the congressman. “Yes, Elliot, I have begun divorce proceedings. Something I should have done years ago. But I’m still curious how you found out about it. I just spoke to Thad yesterday and I know he would never break our attorney/client confidentiality. I haven’t even spoken to Amelia about it. So just exactly how did you find out?”
“It is entirely irrelevant to discuss how certain information makes its way to my attention. You should know by now that no one in public life can do much of anything without someone finding out. I’ve had you tailed from the day you and Amelia began dating.”
Michael gasped before he could stop himself.
Elliot continued. “A man in my position cannot take chances. I had to make absolutely sure that you were of sufficient reputation before I could allow Amelia to become involved with you. Oh yes, I know you weren’t exactly spotless. You had a number of affairs with a number of different women. That was no great surprise for a man like you—rugged good looks, athletic, a sports celebrity and all. We all know such indiscretions are a part of that lifestyle. But after a period of time finding you to be faithful to Amelia once you began seeing her, I was satisfied you would make a good husband for her.
“And, as usual, I was right. You have been a good husband to her. For the most part I’ve been proud to have you as my son-in-law. That’s why I didn’t hesitate to help you get started in your own business. You’ve done a fine job with The Page and you should be proud.”
Why do I get the feeling this is all leading up to my execution? Michael wondered.
“Of course, we both know The Sports Page would never have existed if I hadn’t backed you financially from the beginning and opened all the right doors for you. Granted, you’ve exceeded my highest expectations and that’s to your credit, Michael. That’s what makes this whole unfortunate situation doubly hard for me. Because it won’t involve just you and Amelia. The company is at stake as well.”
“Now just a minute!”
“Hear me out.” Elliot raised his hands to halt Michael’s outburst. “There’s no sense whatsoever in trying to fight me on this. You’ve been very foolish, Michael. And I must say, you’ve surprised me. Oh, not that I’m surprised at your infidelities so much. Only disappointed to think you really thought you could get away with it. Son, surely you know me well enough by now—you can run but you can’t hide from Elliot Thomas. Don’t ever forget that.”
Elliot’s steely gray eyes pierced through Michael. He felt like a caged animal. The implication of losing his company made his blood run cold. Although he had carefully protected his business through the proper legal channels, it suddenly occurred to him that Elliot Thomas wouldn’t necessarily attack through those same channels. Just as Elliot had used certain connections to pave the way for the company, he would no doubt use similar connections to yank it out from under Michael.
His mind raced, searching for answers. He exhaled slowly, attempting to calm himself. “Elliot, you’re absolutely right. There’s no reason we can’t discuss this like two civilized men. Marriages fall apart everyday. That’s just part of life.”
Elliot slammed his fist on the table. “Not when it’s my daughter’s marriage!”
Michael jumped to his feet, holding up his hands in defense. “I would simply ask that you give me a chance to explain my side of the matter.” He began pacing. “No reason we can’t handle this as gentlemen. You said so yourself.” The cold, stony stare of Elliot Thomas dared him.
Think, Michael, think!
He walked back and forth behind his chair, his footsteps hushed on the deep carpet beneath him. He was thoughtful and pensive, much more in control. Or so he hoped it would appear. He strolled casually over to the open bar and poured himself a drink.
“Elliot, you must surely know that this marriage has been in trouble a long time now. It’s obvious that Amelia is anything but happy. Her moods change constantly. I never know what I’ll find at home—a raving lunatic or a sleeping beauty that can’t get out of bed. I mean, she’s on so many antidepressants I hardly know her anymore! She blames everything on me because she can’t get pregnant, but she refuses to see any more doctors. All we ever do is fight, and I’ve just had enough of it. I’m through.”
Elliot remained silent. Michael continued, heading back to his seat. “I have no intention of making this any harder on Amelia than it has to be. I plan to make a clean break. Make this as amicable as possible. There’s no sense in dragging all this through the mud. It would only hurt her.”
“Perhaps you should have considered Amelia’s feelings before all your sordid affairs, Michael. I find it a little difficult to buy into this compassionate husband act of yours.”
“You make it sound like I’ve bedded half the women in Houston! I admit I’ve seen a couple of women over the last few months. But it’s like I told you—things haven’t been good between Amelia and me for a long time. In fact, it’s been miserable.”
Elliot stood up and walked confidently toward the bar. He opened a bottle of Perrier and poured it into a glass. “And somehow you thought that spending time with other women would help you work out your problems with Amelia. Interesting logic.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I didn’t go out looking for someone. It just happened, that’s all. You have to believe that! You know how it is—you start talking to someone, you have a couple of laughs. You start to remember what it’s like to have a good time again. And the next thing you know you’re looking for excuses to make a phone call or stop by—”
“Now let’s see, which one are we talking about here,” Elliot interrupted, dropping a wedge of lemon into his glass. “Would this be a Ms. Anderson or—”
“How dare you!”
“—or would it be a Ms. Lindsey?” Elliot was back in his seat once again searching through a file he had withdrawn from his briefcase. “Let’s see, I believe that’s her name. Ah yes, Mrs. Lindsay. She would be the married lady whose husband travels internationally. Rather convenient, I suppose.”
Michael forced himself to bridle his temper before responding. “Look, Elliot. I’m not proud of any of this. But I’m not gonna sit here while you parade through a list of women you suspect me of having affairs with! It has nothing to do with the fact that I’m going to divorce Amelia. It’s just over between us! And that’s all there is to it. It’s time to move on. But I’m warning you—stay away from Cathy and Rachel. I mean it, Elliot. Back off.”
“Well, we’ll just see about that,” Elliot responded dryly. “I don’t see how you’re in any position to be asking favors of me, son. No, I believe I’ll be the one calling the shots on this one.”
Michael sat down opposite his father-in-law at the long conference table. He threw back the shot of bourbon and felt it burn down his throat. He had to remain calm—that much he knew. And with each accusation, he felt his stomach knot tighter. The heat of the alcohol was coursing through his veins now, relaxing the grip of fear that had strangled him for the duration of Elliot’s interrogation. Just as he was about to speak, Elliot turned his chair to face Michael and leaned back heavily.
“Michael, I think it’s about time we got to the nuts and bolts of all this. You want to divorce my daughter. I will not have it. That puts us in quite a quandary. Now, the way I see it, you can either comply with my wishes or we’ll have to discuss other considerably unpleasant alternatives.”
&nbs
p; Michael rubbed his face then suddenly stood up and headed back to the bar. He quickly downed another shot of bourbon then slammed down the glass. His head was beginning to relax, easing his mind into position for battle.
He slowly turned to face Elliot. “I’m getting real tired of all this,” he said in a forced whisper, his words measured. “I will never again ‘comply’ with any of your wishes, congressman, so deal with it. If you're going to threaten me, then do it. I’m sick to death of your stupid little games.”
“Have it your way,” Elliot answered. “But never forget I gave you the choice to handle this with diplomacy. If you insist on taking this path, I assure you—you will most certainly regret it. I’m a very powerful man, and I have no problem whatsoever doing whatever it takes to get my way. And that certainly includes removing you from The Sports Page. Unfortunately, you don’t seem to comprehend the fire you’re playing with here, boy. It’s clear to see you don’t take me very seriously. That’s a real shame, as I’m sure you’ll soon discover.”
“Spare me the speeches, Elliot. Just spit it out!”
Elliot inhaled deeply. “Fine. You will either drop these divorce proceedings first thing tomorrow morning, or I will take full ownership of The Sports Page immediately. And never mind the protests. I can do it in a heartbeat. You may hold forty percent of the stock, but what you failed to recognize was the fact that I control all of your remaining stockholders.”
Elliot stretched his neck again, emerging with a mischievous grin. “Son, how stupid can you get? You were so all-fire sure that this little business was all yours by making sure I never got too big a chunk of the pie. Thought you had me, didn't you? But if you'd ever done your homework instead of chasing golf balls and fast women, you might have noted a couple of very important facts.