Body Check

by Deirdre Martin

  “Okay,” Wills sniffled.

  Janna left, leaving Ty alone with her brother. Ty leaned towards him, a look of unmistakable sympathy on his face.

  “You okay?”

  Wills gave a barely perceptible nod.

  “Want anything to drink? A glass of water? Some juice?”

  “No, thanks,” Wills said in a small voice.

  “You know, the same thing used to happen in my family.”

  Wills eyed him suspiciously. “What thing?”

  “My old man used to get toasted and wreck the house.”

  A look somewhere between disbelief and relief crossed Wills’s face. “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah. It was a Friday night ritual. He’d get off work, hit the bar with his cronies, then come home three sheets to the wind. Then he’d keep me and my mother up all night babbling about how no one loved or appreciated him, and how crappy his life was because of us . . .” Ty shook his head. “I bet you think it’s your fault, right?”

  Wills looked down at his feet.

  “I bet you think that it’s something you’re doing, that if you get great grades in school, or really kick ass out on the ice, that they’ll love you and things will change. That’s what I thought. That’s why I became such a good hockey player. To please my old man. He’d wanted to play, but couldn’t, so I thought I’d do it for him. I thought it would make him happy if I were great on the ice. That it would make him stop hitting my mom and getting drunk. But you know what? It didn’t. Because what was going on really had nothing to do with me, and it wasn’t my fault, just like the situation with your parents isn’t your fault.”

  Wills peered back up at him, shy. “So how did you, like, deal with it?”

  “I slept over my friends’ houses a lot, that was one thing. And when I was old enough to get the hell out of there, I did.” He paused. “I also talked to people when I needed to get it off my chest, the way we’re doing now.”

  “Does your dad still drink?” Wills asked.

  Ty shrugged. “I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him in years. But you know what? Any time you feel like talking about this stuff, you can call me, okay? I’ll give you my home number and my cell phone number.”

  Wills was wide-eyed. “You would really do that?”

  “To help a brother-in-arms? Sure. But let’s keep it between us, okay? I don’t want your sister knowing what a softie I am.”

  “I won’t say anything, I swear.” He peered at Ty curiously. “Are you and Janna in love?”

  Oh, shit, thought Ty. What the hell was he supposed to say? If he told the kid that the only thing he loved was hockey, he’d be sending the wrong message about sex and commitment. On the other hand, if he lied and said yes, God only knew what would follow from that. He settled for the vague catchall, “We’re very good friends,” and rising from the couch, tilted his head in the direction of the kitchen.

  “You hungry?”

  “Yeah,” Wills said.

  “Me, too. Whaddaya say we give your sister a head start on making those pancakes?”

  When Wills dutifully followed without asking any more personal questions, Ty felt as if he’d dodged the biggest bullet of his life.

  Heading to Lou’s office for the first PR meeting of the new year, Janna’s mind was elsewhere. As she expected would be the case, both her parents had been remorseful about what had transpired on New Year’s Eve. Even her mother had seemed willing to take responsibility for her actions for the first time. She vowed to cut back on her drinking, and swore she’d seek marital counseling. So did her father.

  “I’ll believe it when I see it” was Janna’s take, but she kept her opinion quiet, since, being their child herself, there was a secret part of her that longed to believe what they were saying. She had left them with a warning: If something like this happened again, she was going to arrange for Wills to come live with her. Judging by the way they bowed and scraped as she made her way out to her car, she had the feeling her words had finally gotten through.

  None of this would have happened, though, if it weren’t for Ty. It was he who managed to talk Wills into returning to Connecticut. On the ride home, Wills casually boasted that the great Ty Gallagher had given him his number and his cell phone number, so he could call anytime to “vent.” It had taken every ounce of self-control Janna had not to pick up her own cell phone and tell Ty she loved him. This absolute proof that he was a good man with a good heart pushed her simmering feelings over the line from lover to keeper. The only thing that kept her from calling was not knowing if he felt the same.

  She reached Lou’s door. Was it was possible for him to have added another chin in the three days since she’d seen him last? The thick rolls of wattle beneath his neck were made worse today by a too tight collar that made his flesh bulge and his face red. The man was a heart attack waiting to happen! Since November, Janna was the one driving the two of them back and forth to practice every day. Not just because Lou had trouble maneuvering his bulk behind the steering wheel of his Beamer, but because Janna was afraid one day he’d have a coronary on the parkway and they’d both be history. Volunteering to drive seemed the best solution; she knew there was no way he’d even think of dieting.

  “How was your New Year’s, doll?” Lou asked, ripping apart a muffin the size of an infant’s head. They were waiting for Jack Cowley to show up.

  “Good,” Janna answered.

  “Whatcha do?”

  Janna stifled a Cheshire cat grin. “Rented a bunch of videos and stayed home. Nice and quiet, you know. You?”

  “Me and the wife hit an all-you-can-eat buffet at the Ponderosa, then came home and watched the ball drop on TV.” He stifled a burp. “Same old, same old.”

  “Sounds like fun.” Janna smiled, but it was short-lived as Jack Cowley swept into the room just then. Ever since Theresa had decided to go after Lubov, things between her and Cowley had been more strained than usual, especially since Jack seemed to take such pleasure out of digging up dirt on Theresa. Janna had taken to ignoring him every time he passed her in the hall, waving a folder and murmuring, “Your virginal little friend’s lawyer better be good.” It was so counterproductive, so combative. Lou, bless his fat head, seemed oblivious to the tension.

  “Hey, hey, Jackie boy,” Lou crowed. “How was your New Year’s Eve?”

  Jack sniffed. “Passable.” Unwinding his silk scarf from around his neck, he carefully folded his Burberry over the back of the couch, opposite Janna.

  “Whatcha do?” Lou asked, while Janna pretended to be fascinated by the picture of Lou with Wayne Gretzky hanging directly over Jack’s head.

  “My girlfriend and I cooked a simple meal at home, and repaired to bed early.”

  Lou chuckled. “In other words—”

  Jack cut him dead. “Right.”

  Janna took her eyes from the picture to see Jack gazing at her, an expression of utter disgust for Lou mottling his face. Effete snob, Janna thought. And who on earth would ever go out with him?

  “Awright, time to get down to it.” Lou glanced at Jack. “First order of business. How you doing getting info on, er—”

  “Theresa Falconetti,” Jack replied, somehow managing to make it sound like an obscenity. “Great.”

  “Whatcha got?” Lou asked.

  Cowley leveled Janna with a patronizing stare. “Did you know your little friend dated one of the New York Jets while she was in college, as well as two daytime stars in the past two years?”

  “So?”

  “So she’s obviously a starfucker with a ‘thing’ for jocks and actors.”

  “I once dated a waiter,” Janna shot back. “Does that make me obsessed with food?”

  “Depends how you spin it, doesn’t it, dear?” Cowley returned sweetly. He turned to Lou. “You want me to plant this?”

  Lou barely nodded yes, avoiding Janna’s eye.

  “Done,” Cowley declared triumphantly.

  Janna flashed him a murderous look, which h
e responded to with an oily smile. Lou, meanwhile, looked like he was suffering from indigestion. When he looked to Janna, his expression was almost hesitant. “Doll, I hate to ask this again, but for your pal’s sake, have you given any more thought into talking her into dropping the suit?”

  “We’ve been over this repeatedly, Lou. I am not going to talk Theresa out of this.”

  “Awright, awright,” said Lou, backing off. “It’s her funeral.”

  “You mean Lubov’s,” Janna murmured under her breath. Neither man appeared to hear.

  “Next order of business is the road trip. We got Ottawa, Montreal, Edmonton, Washington, Vancouver and Calgary,” recited Lou, counting off the venues on his fingers. “Six cities, two weeks. It’s gonna be a bitch, as always. MacNeil, you’re coming along with me.”

  Janna blinked. “But—Jack usually goes with you. I mean—”

  Lou blinked back. “There a problem?”

  “No, not at all.” Janna didn’t dare look at Cowley, even though she could feel his resentment zeroing in on her like a laser beam. It was becoming all too clear which of them Lou thought worked the hardest.

  “Any particular reason for the switch?” Cowley asked flatly.

  “Not really. I just thought I’d mix things up a bit, see how it goes. Besides, it’ll be nice not to have to share a hotel room with you. That teeth clicking thing you do in your sleep drives me bats.”

  Janna’s face creased with alarm. “This doesn’t mean you and I are sharing a room, does it, Lou?”

  “Not to worry, baby doll, you’ll have your own. Now, let’s talk beat writers.”

  The meeting went on for another forty-five minutes. Afterwards, Janna forced herself to stop by Jack Cowley’s office. With everything else going on between them, the last thing she wanted was him thinking she had anything to do with Lou’s decision to take her on the road trip instead of him.

  “Jack?”

  He looked up quickly, hitting a button on his keyboard so his computer screen went blank. Dirt on Theresa, Janna thought.

  “Look, I want you to know that Lou’s decision to take me on the road was totally his own. I—”

  “No offense, but I really don’t care,” Jack snapped. “It’s clear you’re Lou’s little pet, and why not? I’d be his pet, too, if I ran around behind him perpetually kissing his fat ass the way you do.” Janna’s mouth fell open. “But let’s get one thing straight. You and I might share the same job title, but I’m the one who’s really second in command here, and I intend to hold on to that position until that sack of lard keels over dead and his job is mine. Until then, I think you’d be wise to remember your place on the PR totem pole. Because I have no intention of letting anything—or anyone—get in my way. Capisce?”

  “Oh, I capisce all right.”

  Janna headed back to her own office and sat down, stunned. The viciousness, the paranoia . . . clearly Jack Cowley was an insecure man. Vicious and insecure. She should feel sorry for him. But she didn’t.

  She felt afraid.

  CHAPTER 14

  Being on the road with the Blades made Janna long for her days as a publicist for The Wild and the Free. At least back then, travel usually meant hopping a jet to an exotic location shoot in Florida or Hawaii, even Italy. But here she was, in the dead of January in western Canada, of all places, with a bunch of hockey players and their attendant personnel. The word exotic wasn’t quite applicable.

  It was grueling, and except when she and Lou were working, boring. Much of the time was spent on private planes or buses. Usually she curled up with a book when they were in transit. But concentration was difficult: the players insisted on watching Slapshot over and over again, shouting out their favorite lines à la The Rocky Horror Picture Show. She knew it was a cult film among players and fans, but still, hearing the same dialogue repeated endlessly truly tested her nerves, which were stretched to the limit anyway.

  She’d never accompanied Lou on a prolonged road trip before and was anxious about doing a good job. Every time they went to meet and grease the local press, she found herself doing her old You can do this chant in her head. Worse, they were in daily contact with Jack Cowley, whose hatred of her crackled down the phone lines every time she had to speak with him. She had the sense he was just waiting for her to stumble and it unnerved her, even while making her even more determined to prove to Lou he hadn’t made a mistake in bringing her. The result was an over-zealousness on her part that prompted Lou to take her aside four days into the trip and say, “You’re allowed to enjoy yourself, you know.”

  Which she tried to do, but it was hard, especially with the Lubov case dogging them everywhere they went. She was the one who always addressed the issue with the local media, and she inevitably came away feeling exhausted and shaken. Lubov himself had taken to staring her down every time their paths crossed, his mocking gaze meant as a challenge, one she refused to rise to. To the extent that she could, she ignored him, but it wasn’t always easy. Once or twice he had deliberately sat across the aisle from her on the plane or bus, making comments under his breath in Russian that were no doubt meant to disturb.

  Her one comfort was that none of this was going unnoticed by Ty, who said nothing but was quietly taking it all in. Watching him on the road was an education. As was the case back home, he commanded his players’ respect with authority and dignity. When one of the younger players missed a plane after a night of carousing, Ty immediately implemented an eleven P.M. curfew for the road, making sure the players adhered to it by doing a room check each night like the jail warden some of them no doubt thought he was. For once, he was doing something Kidco could be happy about.

  She had been unprepared, though, for the extent to which his fame followed him outside of New York. Canada was hockey country, and Ty Gallagher was their Messiah. Everywhere they went, the team was met by a large legion of fans. Ty couldn’t walk through a hotel lobby without being accosted for an autograph or being asked to pose for a picture. He had taken to ordering room service every night rather than venturing out to a restaurant with Kevin and risk having his meal interrupted repeatedly. And the women . . . God, how Janna hated the women, the way they undressed him with their eyes, ditzy little puck bunnies who thought a Wonderbra coupled with a recitation of his career stats might gain them access to hockey’s most eligible bachelor. Little did they know.

  Not that she and Ty were in any way obvious. They’d both agreed that delicious as it was seeing each other clandestinely, to attempt anything on the road was suicide. That didn’t mean there weren’t stolen moments: a longing glance here, a hand discreetly brushing a backside there. One afternoon when Janna had to bring an interview request to Ty and Kevin’s room, Ty had risen from his bed and crushed her to him, his kiss fierce and desperate. It had been a wonderful surprise, but curled up alone every night in her hotel room, Janna found herself counting the days until they were back in Manhattan and could really have some fun.

  Calgary was the final game of the road trip. There was a blinding snow, and Janna couldn’t believe their pilot had chosen to fly, but he did. After a nerve-wracking flight, the Blades’ entourage landed with high spirits and weary bodies. They had humiliated Ottawa and been slaughtered by Montreal, bouncing back to rout both Edmonton and Vancouver. They arrived at their Calgary hotel at close to nine P.M. An early morning practice was already scheduled for seven the next day, which the PR team would have to attend as well.

  Despite the late hour, Janna and Lou repaired to the hotel’s restaurant to go over interview requests and grab a bite to eat. While there, Lou met up with an old friend who’d worked PR with him back when Lou could still see his feet. He joined them for dinner, he and Lou swapping nostalgic tales to which Janna felt obliged to sit and listen.

  It was quarter past eleven before there was finally a lull in the conversation where she was able to excuse herself for the night. She hustled out of the restaurant and into the lobby, which remained filled with fans. It was ther
e she spotted Lubov, chatting with two young and giddy-looking girls. She quickly averted her gaze, but it was too late. Their eyes had met and he was now excusing himself from the girls’ company and moving towards her rapidly.

  “Janna.”

  She pretended not to hear him and strode purposefully toward the huge bank of elevators opposite the lush plants and tasteful chintz furniture of the lobby. Fighting off a tremble, she pushed a button for the third floor, but the damn elevator was taking its sweet time. Lubov was now beside her.

  “Janna, I wish to speak with you.”

  Janna said nothing.

  “Janna—”

  The elevator doors opened and Janna stepped inside. As quickly as she could, she pressed the button to close the doors. No matter—Lubov was physically holding the doors of the elevator apart and had slipped inside. They were alone now, the smell of booze seeping off him like cheap cologne.

  “Your friend, it is saying in the papers now she is a big whore, no?”

  Janna took a deep breath. The urge to shout was overwhelming.

  “Why do you hate me so much, eh?”

  “I would think that’s pretty obvious.”

  “No, no, you hate me before your friend do this to me. Why?”

  “You’re out past curfew, Alexei, and you’re drunk. You better get to your room before Captain Gallagher finds you.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  The elevator doors opened on the third floor.

  “I’m not going to,” Janna replied, feeling genuinely nervous as he followed her out of the elevator. “You’re on the wrong floor, Alexei.”

  “No,” he insisted, “is right floor. I am going to stay on this floor until you speak to me.”

  Janna began briskly walking toward her room. “Leave me alone or I’ll call security.”

  Lubov laughed. “Yes, call them, tell them lies like your whore friend. You think anyone will believe you?”