Players

by Rachel Cross

  The last thing he needed was this type of distraction. And at that moment, he was hit with the first difficult question of the day:

  “How do you propose to offset rising fuel and energy costs in our public transportation system?”

  But with the young woman standing at the door disturbing his ability to formulate thoughts, he decided to find out what she was doing there before answering. “Just a moment,” he said to the reporter, turning to the door. “Can I help you?” he then asked in a detached tone.

  When she didn’t answer, he took in her dark green skirt and the purse strap resembling a sash across the front of her shirt. Grinning, he took the opportunity to joke around, as Tyrone had suggested, “Are you looking for your Girl Scout leader or are you here to sell cookies?”

  • • •

  Keila opened the door and stepped inside just as the back strap of her heel slid down. She quickly fixed it and got up, prepared to smile and ask a few people gathered around for Cate Nowak.

  But the pair of eyes she met gave her such a jolt, she remained frozen on the spot, her mouth open, the words she was about to speak gone. It was him; her sexy stranger. But his eyes skimmed over her, empty of even the smallest glimmer of recognition. She shut her mouth, feeling an icy knot form in her chest, stung that he didn’t recognize her when he’d left such an impression.

  Slowly gathering her wits, she looked about the room, taking in the details. Someone directed a decent question about the public transportation system her stranger’s way, and she realized there were reporters there. Cate had mentioned that she’d be meeting with Jake Kelly after a press conference. And that’s when it hit her.

  Her sexy stranger was Jake Kelly. He turned her way again, and asked if he could help her, in a tone that implied she was interrupting. Her thoughts still running wild, she was about to just ask for Cate when he joked, “Are you looking for your Girl Scout leader or are you here to sell cookies?”

  Everyone in the room turned to her and laughed. The icy knot in her chest slowly turned into a ball of fire. It wasn’t that he’d forgotten her. It wasn’t that he was making fun of her clothes, though any idiot knew not to mess with a woman’s outfit. It was that life had thrown her one curve ball too many lately and she needed a break. The ball of fire in her chest spread, and she struggled to contain it. She needed the money and she really hoped Jake Kelly was someone she could work for.

  Shooting everyone a warm smile, she said, “Actually, the person I’m looking for doesn’t appear to be here. But, as someone who uses public transportation as their only means of getting around, I’d love to hear your answer to the question of how you plan on offsetting fuel costs.”

  “One way around it is cutting the frequent user discount. There will still be a discount, but we’re going to have to lower it in order to keep up with rising fuel and energy costs. This will ensure Chicago Transit Authority covers their deficit, without having to recur to more government subsidies which ultimately come out of everyone’s pockets,” he explained, just as Cate and another man walked into the room.

  Keila snapped. This man was obviously out of touch with normal everyday people like her. “You want to raise the cost of public transportation for frequent users?” she half-asked, half-accused. “If you do that, Mr. Kelly, I’ll hang a huge cardboard sign around my neck reading Jake Kelly wants to raise the cost of public transportation for all of you every single time I take the L or the bus, which is every day. Why don’t you raise taxes on the luxury car you surely drive, or on the premium gas you use to fill your tank? Why hit up those of us who can’t afford a car and are just trying to get to work to make a living? Honestly, Mr. Kelly, if I’d known this is what you were about, I never would’ve agreed to see you,” Keila finished, and boy did she feel inexplicably good. This was something she could speak up about. All of her bottled up frustrations from the last week eased out of her system.

  But one look at Cate made her realize she’d also hurt her friend. Suddenly, she didn’t feel so great. Cate was trying to help her and this is how she thanked her?

  • • •

  Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned. A moment ago, when she’d shot him that stunning smile, he’d thought her insanely pretty. But now, he thought her pretty insane. Hang a cardboard sign around her neck? Never would’ve agreed to see him? What the hell was she talking about? They’d never agreed to see each other again. He hadn’t even asked for her name.

  Many voices erupted at once. Now everyone wanted to know if he was intending to make things harder for working class people. He began answering and explaining, and when he had a chance to look back toward the door, she was gone. Tyrone was then beside him, and together they redirected the conversation, providing Jake with a chance to explain.

  One exhausting half-hour later, Jake walked toward his office, eager to sit down and gather his thoughts in silence. Over all, the press conference had gone well, with Filip coming in toward the end, warming the reporters with tales of Jake’s youth. Cate had been proven right; they were more interested in his personal life than in his agenda.

  Jake opened the door, Tyrone and Filip in tow, and came to a complete halt. There she was again, standing next to Cate. This time, the young woman didn’t look up.

  “What, are we cozying up to hecklers now?” Tyrone asked when he saw her.

  “She isn’t a heckler,” Cate paused to clear her throat. “She’s my friend, Keila Diaz. She arrived early and accidentally walked into the press conference.”

  Jake didn’t speak, he just stood there and watched as Keila and Filip exchanged a warm hug.

  “The woman who just hijacked the press conference is your friend? The musician you thought would be a great addition to the campaign?” Tyrone asked, incredulously.

  “She didn’t mean to hijack the press conference. She came in after an hour-long train ride, walking three blocks in sticky humid weather and being splashed with dirt to be called a Girl Scout in front of a bunch of strangers. She then hears Jake offer a solution to public transportation that will affect her in a negative way,” Cate argued.

  “I can’t believe you’re defending her,” Tyrone threw his hands up in the air. “Cate, do you happen to remember that mayoral candidate from Harrisburg who was heckled at that small press conference? The video of the press conference went viral, he became a laughing stock, and he finished fifth. We can’t have that.”

  “Well, maybe if that candidate had taken the time to find out what the heckler’s problem was, they could’ve come to some sort of understanding. Can you imagine the amount of positive press he would’ve gotten if they’d put their differences aside and had instead worked together for the good of the city? The amount of good press Jake can receive if he shows some humility and hires her?”

  “You don’t honestly think Jake will still want to work with her after she threatened him, do you?” Tyrone and Cate continued to have it out, while Keila and Jake remained silent, not once looking at each other.

  “Cate, Tyrone, don’t you think Jake and Keila should be allowed to speak and see if they can sort their differences out?” Filip Nowak’s soft, authoritative voice spoke out from across the room.

  Jake finally looked over at Keila. One look was all it took to decide he couldn’t afford the distraction of working with her. But when he looked down at her dirty shirt, he felt like a jerk. “I’m sorry you thought I was poking fun at you. I was just trying to be friendly.” Keila signaled her acceptance of his apology with a nod, and Jake turned to Cate. “But though I truly am sorry, I don’t think your friend and I would work well together, Cate.”

  “But—” Cate began to protest.

  “I agree. I only stayed long enough to appease Cate, but now that we’ve gotten this over with, I’ll be on my way,” Keila interrupted her.

  But Filip, who had been leaning against a window, keen and aware, said, “Keila, Jake, as someone who knows you both, I’m surprised
you’re being unreasonable. Keila, despite your difference of opinion regarding CTA, working with Jake might very well ensure music education for inner-city kids. And Jake, Keila is the right person for this. She’s bright, talented, and passionate.”

  Keila closed her eyes, unable to believe how badly this was going. Filip was right; music education in public schools was important to her and the opportunity to have a positive impact should outweigh other differences.

  When she opened her eyes, she met a pair of blue, glacial eyes. The night they’d danced, those eyes had been all about hot gazes. Keila swallowed, knowing she needed to get her so-called interview with Jake Kelly back on track. “Mr. Kelly, maybe we should just start over,” Keila paused, looked up at him, and offered him a tentative smile.

  But Jake Kelly didn’t smile back; he just stared at her, his expression serious. “I think we should quit while we’re ahead. You’re obviously prone to outbursts and I don’t work well with emotional people.”

  Keila’s smile wavered. Judging from Cate’s numerous outbursts she doubted he didn’t work well with emotional people. “Look, if you want to be the mayor of Chicago, you really need to get used to the fact that people will disagree with you and express their opinions. I took two trains to get here, and I read your ideas, so please listen to me for a moment.”

  Heat flickered in his eyes and she wondered if she’d made him angry. But she soldiered on. “I looked over your proposal for reforming Chicago’s school system, and I understand the weighted school formula you’re proposing. The same model can be adapted to fund music education. We’d need to come up with a base allocation tailored to the cost per pupil and assign additional funds to certain students using the very same criteria and percentage points you are using.”

  “You read the entire proposal and you understood the formula?” Jake asked with a slight, hopefully approving nod.

  “Great, Cate told her about his numbers fetish,” Tyrone muttered.

  It sounded to Keila as if this was a step in the right direction and she took the opportunity to hand her resume over to him. “There’s a complex but proven connection between math and music, and I’d be happy to go over that for you, too.”

  Everyone in the room was silent as Jake took his time looking over her resume, considering. Finally, he nodded his head in agreement. “What does your schedule look like?” he said, with a hint of reluctance.

  Amid a few more protests from Tyrone, Jake and Keila agreed on meeting early Monday morning—her only day off—for the next three weeks. Aside from the meetings, Keila agreed to attend The Endowment for the Arts Ebony and Ivory Charity Dinner the first Friday in October as Jake Kelly’s guest so she could assist him in explaining the program to important and influential patrons of music and art.

  • • •

  Feeling safe in her new position, yet still harboring rankled feelings, Keila mustered up her most sugary, innocent tone. “You know, speaking as a Democrat, I think it’s great that the Republican candidate is willing to reach across the aisle to work with me on this,” she remarked.

  “Jake is a conservative independent, not a Republican,” Tyrone clarified through gritted teeth.

  “Cate told me, but really, isn’t that just another way of saying ‘closet Republican’,” she shrugged and turned to watch Jake, hoping to have hit a nerve.

  Jake met her gaze, but instead of shooting her an annoyed look, he hit her with a slow, heart-stopping smile.

  Chapter Three

  That evening, Keila sat on the worn brown couch in the middle of her mom’s living room, her legs tucked underneath her, a dessert dish with a hefty serving of flan nestled in her arms. This will be my last piece, she promised herself, sighing indulgently. Her mom was such a good baker.

  Snuggled in the comfort of her favorite old shirt—a one-of-a-kind white and fuchsia Cubs raglan shirt Robbie had made for her years before with the words You Should’ve Let The Goat In, in reference to an old Cubs curse, written on the back—she watched a Mexican novela her mother had recorded, and quickly became engrossed in the worn story line she usually mocked.

  Marianna, the main character, had been shoved off a cliff by Yesenia, the evil ex-lover of Mariana’s one true love, Gustavo. And though Mariana had broken every single bone in her body and her face had been crushed beyond recognition, she’d gone through numerous plastic surgeries over the last six months and now looked beautiful again. In fact, she looked exactly the same as she had before. But when she came back to wreak havoc on the lives of everyone who’d wronged her, nobody seemed to recognize her. Not even her one true love.

  Keila sighed as a delicious piece of flan slid down her throat and Marianna slapped Yesenia soundly across the face. “Maldita!” Mariana cried.

  “Maldita!” Keila repeated loudly.

  “Keila, don’t curse in front of la Virgencita!” her mother’s voice reprimanded from the doorway. She turned to see her mother, Graciela, standing at the front door and pointing to the Virgin Mary statue placed prominently in the center of the mantle underneath the TV, one of many shrines to her father surrounding it. Her sister, her niece, and Robbie all marched past Graciela through the open door.

  “Perdón.” Keila covered her mouth, feeling like she’d just turned ten again. It was one of few negatives of living with her mom. Tania walked to her and promptly snatched the flan from her hands before heading toward the kitchen in the back of the house.

  “Maldita!” Keila imitated Mariana’s dramatic, piercing cry. She scrambled up off the couch.

  “No, no more sweets; our hips weren’t made to take this type of abuse.” Tania held the plate just out of reach, her sleek, fitted black suit and stern expression in direct contrast with the cute red checked curtains and cheery yellow walls behind her.

  Robbie came up behind her and slapped her butt, throwing her niece, Mia, into a fit of giggles. “Wow, a ripple effect, I think you ate a whole pie.”

  “Hey!” Keila rubbed her bottom. “I’m just going through a tough time, okay? No more full-time job. No more boyfriend. Try and understand. And this was my last piece, I swear.” She looked at the flan longingly and swallowed. The last spoonsful were always the most satisfying. “Why are you all here?” she asked.

  Her mother pulled a bottle of sparkling cider from a paper bag, “We came home to celebrate this position Jake Kelly offered you. Cate called Robbie and Robbie called us.”

  “Cate’s so excited she already sent out a press release. She even mentions I’m your sister!” Tania, a meteorologist with the Chicago Weather Bureau and a part-time weather girl for a local channel, had a healthy male following, complete with the occasional fan mail.

  “Well, Mr. Kelly seems like a very generous young man.”

  “Yeah, great pay. Ask him if he needs a meteorologist to predict the weather for him,” Tania said, stuffing a spoonful of flan into her mouth. Keila took one look at the way her sister’s perfectly tailored suit hugged her perfectly toned body and shot her a disgusted look.

  “Or a dance instructor to teach him to really connect with people,” Robbie added. That’s when Keila remembered Robbie’s role the night of the dance festival.

  “Robbie, did you know Jake Kelly was the guy you forced me to dance with that night a couple of months ago, at Chicago SummerDance?” she asked, walking up to him, watching his face.

  “Yes.” Robbie watched her just as closely.

  “Why didn’t you tell me last night, when I told you about this interview with him today?”

  “I thought you knew.” Robbie’s eyes glittered and Keila knew he was lying.

  “Well, I didn’t.”

  “And what’s the problem?” Robbie asked, grinning.

  “Yeah, what’s the problem?” Tania asked, frowning.

  “No problem. It’s just he didn’t even recognize me, and my pride has already taken enough of a beating lately.”

  At that, Robbie laughed. “I saw the way he was looking at you that night, and
I doubt he didn’t recognize you.”

  “How was he looking at her?” Graciela eagerly asked.

  “Yeah, how was he looking at her?” Tania warily repeated.

  “I can’t describe it in front of minors,” Robbie winked, pointing at Mia.

  “So not fair . . . I want to know how he was looking at her, too.” Mia took the dessert dish from Tania and had a spoonful of flan.

  “I swear he didn’t recognize me. He drew a complete blank,” Keila gestured over her face with her hand.

  “So what? I don’t remember anyone I danced with that night. He must’ve made quite an impression on you if you remembered him.” Tania raised both eyebrows.

  “Well, I’m not sure I’ll vote for him if he forgot my daughter.” Graciela crossed her arms.

  Keila laughed.

  “Let’s just toast and order some pizza already. I’m starving.” Tania changed the subject.

  “Pizza?” Keila perked up. “From where?”

  “From anywhere you want. It’s your celebration.” Tania came around and kissed her cheek.

  “Lou Malantis’?” Keila grinned.

  “Okay, anywhere you want, within a five-mile radius,” Tania clarified.

  “Giordano’s,” she decided, and a chorus of mmmms followed.

  “Giordano’s it is.”

  • • •

  An hour later, they all sat around the living room, watching the end of the novela, each with a spoon in their hand, passing around flan.

  “Can Mia and I stay over tonight?” Tania asked. “I’m too stuffed to move, let alone drive. And we want to spend time with Keila.”

  “Of course,” Graciela agreed, and Keila squeezed her sister’s hand.

  “By the way, how’s Jess?” she asked Robbie, thinking about his younger sister. Robbie and Jessica shared their late mother’s house, right behind Graciela’s.

  “I barely see her anymore, and she gets mad if I ask her where she’s been. She comes in really late and sometimes not at all,” Robbie shrugged, but Keila could tell he was hiding concern.