“Right now, I’d just be happy if he didn’t hate me,” Julianne whispered.
“Not good enough,” Carly said. “I was almost killed last year before I could tell Shane I couldn’t live without him. If you love Will, Jules, you have to be all in with my plan.”
“You have a plan?”
“Yep. And we have to hurry if we want to get to the media before the hearing tomorrow.”
“Media?” Julianne was stunned at her friend’s enthusiasm for dealing with anyone wielding a press badge. “You avoid the paparazzi. They’ve stalked you most of your life.”
“Mmmm. I know, but I’ve forced myself to swim with the sharks a few times this past year to help the people I love the very most. Don’t worry. It’ll work. I promise. The first step, though, is to get you off the floor. My legs are all tingly.”
• • •
The bourbon no longer burned when it went down. Will wasn’t sure if that meant he was suitably inebriated or the alcohol had eroded the lining of his throat. He was going for mind-numbing drunk, but the fact that he was still sitting upright probably meant he had a few more glasses to go.
A key turned in the lock and Will let out a string of curse words. He tried to get off the sofa to intercept Brody, but his head swam as soon as he stood. Hmm. Drunker than he thought. Good sign. Will slouched back down in a satisfied stupor and attempted to pour the amber liquid into the glass in front of him, but the stupid thing kept moving.
“Dude.”
Brody’s voice startled him and Will swore as half the bourbon ended up on the coffee table. Slamming down the bottle, he wiped up the spill with the T-shirt Owen had spit up on earlier. “Get out,” he growled at Brody.
Brody ignored him, sliding into the leather recliner across the room. “Love what you’ve done with the place.” He glanced around. Owen’s baby paraphernalia was strewn about the loft, along with an assortment of take-out containers and dirty clothes. “Early preschool fits you somehow.”
“Fuck off.”
The annoying tight end perched his sneaker-clad feet on the coffee table, a move guaranteed to annoy Will, who swatted at the bright yellow shoes but missed, nearly falling off the sofa instead. Will unleashed another string of locker room prose.
“Somebody needs a Snickers bar.”
“I mean it, Brody.” Will’s lips weren’t working as well as he’d have liked because the words were slurred. “I don’t want you here. Go home.”
“No can do.”
“I don’t need a babysitter!” Will roared.
Brody just raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the stuffed Elmo doll Will clutched in his hand. He heaved it across the room, which in turn caused the entire loft to spin.
“Dude.” Brody employed his most solicitous tone, the same one he probably used to get half the women on the East Coast to slip off their panties for him. “You should probably eat something. Get something in your belly to soak up all that liquor. Let me call for take-out.” He reached for the bottle, but Will snatched it away, gripping it tightly on the sofa beside him.
Rubbing his hands through his hair, Brody placed both feet on the floor and leaned toward Will. If Will wanted to, he could have the pest by the throat in an instant. Only his hands weren’t working so well right now.
“Look, Will,” Brody said. “I came tonight because the guys want you to know we all stand behind you. No matter what you did or what you do tomorrow. We’ve got your back.”
Will snorted. “They didn’t need to send you over here to annoy me. They could have just told me at the training facility rather than talking behind my back.”
With an exasperated sigh, Brody shot to his feet. “Easier said than done when you’re acting like a surly shit all the time. No one wants to talk to you in person. I actually drew the short straw, asshole, and was rewarded with the honor of wasting my evening watching you slobber in your bourbon. But I’m out of here.”
He stepped around Owen’s swing, brushing over a stack of papers on top of the coffee table. Will’s reflexes were too slow and the separation agreement floated to the floor right in front of Brody’s obnoxious sneakers. He plucked it off the rug before Will could get to it.
“That was fast,” Brody said as he scanned the document.
“Mind your damn business.” Will reached for the paper, but Brody took a step back.
“I just thought the way things were going in that hometown of yours, you wouldn’t let her go without a fight.”
“I told you, Brody, it wasn’t that kind of marriage.”
“Could have fooled me.” Brody flicked the paper back toward Will. “Well, I guess now she’s fair game for the rest of us.”
Will wasn’t sure how he got across the room so quickly, but he had Brody pinned against the wall, his forearm to the little twerp’s throat, poised to crush his windpipe. Unfortunately, Brody wasn’t fighting back. Instead his eyes were bright with mischief.
“So I wasn’t wrong,” Brody taunted him. “You do love her.”
“Give me a reason to kill you,” Will hissed. “You’ve been a pain in my ass for too long, Brody Janik.”
Brody ignored him, enduring whatever pain Will inflicted and still managing to piss him off. “I picked up some pretty strong vibes that she was hot for you, too. So what did you do to screw it up?”
Will increased the pressure to Brody’s throat, but the idiot didn’t even flinch. “I didn’t do anything,” Will grunted. “She sold me out to her brother, the senator.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Will felt as if his head were going to explode, his skull was throbbing so hard. “Yes, I’m sure, you asshole. She admitted it.”
“Huh.”
That was it. He was going to strangle the little prick. Except the harder he pressed, the more relaxed Brody became.
“Did you ask her why?”
Did he ask her why? Will stepped back in aggravation, nearly tripping over a giant metal maze he’d bought for Owen to play with. Brody didn’t even reach for his neck, simply crossing his arms in front of his chest, tucking his long hands between his armpits. Will leaned his hips against the recliner to keep himself upright.
“I didn’t have to ask her,” he shouted. “She sold me out for money so she could start a new design company.”
“Nah.” Brody shook his head in disbelief. “She didn’t need money that badly. The gown she designed for my sister was worth an easy fifty grand. I tried to pay her several times and she wouldn’t take my money. It’s gotta be something else.”
The burning sensation had returned to Will’s throat, as well as every other part of his body. Brody was talking nonsense. Will really wanted to hit him, but the room was spinning again.
“Dude, maybe you should ask her why she did it. She could have a perfectly logical explanation.”
“I told you why she did it,” Will bit out.
“Your theory doesn’t make sense.” Brody stepped away from the wall. “But I forgot. You’re William the Conqueror. You have ice water running through your veins. You’d rather live your life thinking the whole world is against you. Or keep your teammates at arm’s length. Hell, you’d even rather believe the worst of the only woman who, besides your mother, probably actually loves you. Suit yourself, Connelly. It’s your life.”
He headed for the door.
“Brody,” Will managed to croak out.
Brody stopped in his tracks but didn’t bother to turn around.
“Leave the key,” Will commanded.
“No way, dude. If you pickle yourself silly and die tonight, I want to be able to get your behemoth ass out of here before the stink sets in.”
He closed and locked the door behind him as he left.
Twenty-eight
The small anteroom where Roscoe and Will waited was blessedly quiet. After running the gauntlet of repo
rters and video cameras staked out in the rotunda and along the marble halls of the Russell Senate Office Building, Will was glad to be able to have a few minutes to catch his breath before the hearing. He leaned his pounding head back against the wall and closed his eyes, while Roscoe stared out the large window overlooking the garden courtyard below them.
“I could get used to working in a place like this,” Roscoe mused. “The history and the architecture of this building can be a little awe-inspiring.” There was a touch of reverence in his voice.
“You’re starting to sound like Gavin.” Will didn’t bother opening his eyes; they still burned from the assault of the strobe flashes on the video cameras. Or maybe it was the aftereffects of the bourbon. Both, most likely. “He’s always waxing on about cornices and fluting and masonry and porticos. Sounds like a woman half the time.”
The chair next to Will creaked as Roscoe eased into it. “I’ll be sure to tell your best friend you called him a girl.”
Will grunted.
“Are you gonna be able to make it through this thing?” Roscoe asked, his tone equal parts concern and annoyance.
“I only have to repeat one line the entire time. A monkey could do it.”
“Yeah, but most monkeys aren’t fighting a colossal hangover. Stupid move on your part.”
“It felt good at the time.”
Roscoe snorted. “It always does.”
The sounds of Roscoe clicking through his messages stirred the quiet of the room. “Uh-oh.”
Will cracked an eyelid. Roscoe was scanning his iPhone.
“Shit! I cannot believe she did this.”
“Your wife posting compromising videos of you on YouTube again?” Will teased.
“Not my wife. Yours.”
That got both of Will’s eyes open. “What?”
Roscoe was scrolling through his phone. “She just released a statement to the press.”
What remained of the previous night’s bourbon rolled through his stomach, cresting in a wave that threatened to spew out of him. What bombshell had she dropped now? Was there any more damage that woman could do to him?
“About?” Will managed to grind out.
“Huh,” Roscoe said as he continued to scroll. “About her new company. Apparently she’s designing baby clothes now.”
Will had to admit the concept made sense. Julianne’s priorities had shifted, and this way she could focus her talents on something that allowed her to include Owen. He quickly snuffed out the burst of pride he felt knowing she’d begun drawing again, though.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” Roscoe mumbled.
“What?”
“She’s manufacturing the clothes in a textile factory located just outside Chances Inlet.”
Will felt his weary muscles tense along his spine. “Great. Now I’ve got another reason to avoid that place.” It was ironic that his fake wife had found more acceptance in his hometown than Will ever had.
“That won’t be so easy.” Roscoe looked up from his phone, his eyes shining with what looked like admiration. “She’s named you as the president of the company.”
What? “Can she do that?” Clearly Will had killed a few too many brain cells last night because nothing Roscoe said was making sense.
“Sure she can. It’s her company. She can do whatever she wants.” Roscoe paused, a bemused look on his face. “Only, now it’s your company, so I guess you can give it back to her.”
Why would Julianne do such a thing? Brody’s words filtered back through the haze of the previous evening.
She didn’t need money that badly. She could have a perfectly logical explanation. Did you ask her why?
“Give me that.” He ripped the phone from his agent’s hands and began scrolling through the screen. The mayor of Chances Inlet was singing Will’s praises for being a visionary, persuading Julianne to locate her company in their town. She’d named both his mother and Patricia McAlister as members of the board of directors. And Mrs. Elderhaus! What did his first-grade teacher know about running a company?
“She’s crazy,” Will muttered. “Bat-shit crazy.”
“Skip down to the part about the profits. You’re gonna love that.” Roscoe was definitely amused now.
According to the press release, the profits earned from the company would be used to establish a sports and activities club for youth in Chances Inlet where kids could hang out after school. The Second Chances Center, as Julianne had dubbed it, would also provide academic assistance and job training to the area’s most needy kids. It was visionary, all right. A freaking brilliant way to get back in Will’s good graces. The problem was, he wasn’t buying it. If this was her way of apologizing, it was too little, too late.
“I seriously underestimated your wife’s manipulative skills, Will. I’ve gotta hand it to her, this move trumps our attempt to get public opinion on your side. Not only that, but she’s just proved that she doesn’t need your money. It’s all over the Internet that stores are clamoring for her designs.”
Will wanted to howl with frustration, but the door to the large hearing room opened and his attention immediately focused on Senator Marchione. The buzz from the assembled media reached a crescendo before Julianne’s brother closed the door behind him.
“I’m sorry to keep you waiting, gentlemen.”
Will didn’t think he looked sorry at all.
“We’ve had a change in plans for today . . .”
Roscoe shot to his feet, his game face firmly back in place. “Wait just a minute! You can’t change things up without consulting with us. My client is not at your beck and call.”
The senator perched one of his hips on a corner of the desk under the window. “I beg to differ. As a subpoenaed witness, he is at the mercy of the committee’s schedule.” He held a hand out, thwarting Roscoe from interjecting. “But that’s neither here nor there. The fact is the hearing has been canceled. We have no need for your testimony.”
A trace of unease traveled down Will’s spine.
“So all this was for what, then?” Roscoe was working himself into indignant fury.
“To get at the truth, Mr. Mathis. And we’ve done that.”
Will nearly snapped off the wooden arms of the chair in which he sat. He was close behind Roscoe in the anger department. And confused. Where did this all leave him?
The senator made a show of adjusting the sleeves of his suit jacket, prolonging the suspense. “It seems Coach Zevalos has decided to clear his conscience in his last days. He made a full confession to the NFL yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” Roscoe nearly shouted as he grabbed for his briefcase. “How come we heard nothing about it?”
Will stood to follow his agent out the door.
“Because it doesn’t impact you or your client.”
That stopped both men in their tracks. Will focused a measuring glare at the senator.
“That’s right.” The senator locked eyes with him. “Coach Zevalos named quite a list of names, but yours wasn’t on it. It seems we were in error in subpoenaing you.”
Roscoe didn’t waste a breath. “I want that in writing,” he demanded. “Today.”
The tension crackled in the room as the three men stared at one another for a moment. Finally, the senator gave the briefest of nods. Will squeezed out a breath through lungs he hadn’t realized he was constricting.
“In that case, we’re out of here.” Roscoe headed for the door, Will at his heels.
“Just one minute,” the senator called after them. “Will, can I have a word with you?”
Roscoe stopped, his hand poised on the doorknob. Curious, Will figured it was worth a few minutes of his time to hear the senator’s excuse as to why he and his sister had used him. Hell, yeah, he wanted answers. If for no other reason than so no woman would be able to dupe him again like Julianne ha
d.
They both turned back to face the senator, who was still seated on the corner of the desk.
“Alone, if you don’t mind.” He phrased it as if it were a question, but all three men knew it wasn’t.
Roscoe shot a sideways glance at Will, an eyebrow raised in question. Will nodded.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Roscoe mumbled as he slid past. “We’re almost home free.”
A roar went up in the other room as Roscoe slipped out. Will remained where he was. Propping a shoulder up against the doorjamb, he tucked his arms across his chest. He tried to give the impression that he couldn’t care less about what the senator had to say, when in fact apprehension coursed through his veins.
The senator heaved a sigh. “It seems I owe you an apology.”
“Yeah, I believe that’s what the written statement is for.”
“No, a personal apology. It’s because of me you’re in this mess.”
Will arched an eyebrow at him, wishing somehow one of the hundreds of media piranhas outside could record this. “You and your sister, you mean.”
He brushed Will’s comment aside with a hand through the air. “Julianne was tangential to my reasons for giving the information to the committee. I honestly thought I was doing the right thing.”
“If you consider ruining a man’s career the right thing,” Will said tersely.
“Obviously I misjudged the whole situation. I thought I was doing her a favor.”
“By having her spy on me and seducing my secrets out of me so you could drag me in front of your committee and totally unman me?”
“That wasn’t how it was,” the senator argued. “Julianne wasn’t spying on you. I could barely get her to tell me how the baby was, much less answer questions about you.”
“Really, so I’m supposed to believe those cozy phone calls and texts every day were innocent?”
“Yes!” The senator yelled. He leaped off the desk and began pacing the room. “When I dragged you up here that first day, it was to help the baby. For Julianne. She was sick with worry over the possibility of losing her son. I certainly never intended to force her to marry you.”
Foolish Games (An Out of Bounds Novel) Page 27