“Clearly, you haven’t seen many streetwalkers.”
“He’ll think I’m a hooker.”
“Coach Randy? No. He’ll want to bang you.” Cora grinned. “How serious are you about that virgin-until-marriage vow?”
“I hate you.” Gemma crossed her arms and stared out the window.
Cora kept smiling.
It was a challenge to keep smiling later when Cal asked her to meet him at the hospital. She’d dropped Gemma off so she could talk to Cal without pretense.
He kept her waiting in the hospital cafeteria for nearly an hour, during which time Cora convinced Amber that Jack could benefit from a bit of Dooley Foundation magic.
“Thanks for waiting, Cora.” Cal sat across from her, looking spent and haggard. He clasped his hands on the table. “I had to wait for my dad’s doctor. You know doctors. Worse than prima donna actresses when it comes to being on time.”
Here was the man with kind eyes, the one who’d seemed safe enough to trust her body to. What had turned him into Jekyll & Hyde? “Good news, I hope.”
“If you call dying good news.”
“I’m sorry.” She laid a hand over his. “Is there anything I can do?”
Cal ruined it by turning his palm and clasping her fingers possessively. His grin turned feral. “There is.”
She tugged her fingers free. “That isn’t on the table. We do offer a grief program.” It was more a celebration of life.
Before things got ugly, Cal’s phone rang. He glanced at the display. “This is going to take awhile. How about I call you later? We can hook up somewhere close.”
“Pass.” Cora walked away, but she couldn’t shake the impression that something about Cal’s father was behind his personality turnaround. She stopped at the information desk and requested the room number of one Cal Lazarus Senior.
~*~
Trent and Randy returned to the hotel late on Friday night. While Archie made amends to his intended, they’d spent a couple of hours familiarizing themselves with the Flash headquarters and setting up the offices they’d officially occupy in a week. Then they’d waited an hour for a table at a trendy Westwood restaurant where they’d been star-struck by the number of celebrities who cut in front of them. Since they were essentially nobodies, they’d been shuttled to a table in a dark corner, had crap service, and a dinner that had lasted far too long for far too much money. Trent’s fantasy life as an NBA coach had so far been disappointing.
He wanted nothing more than to grab a beer out of the mini-bar in his room and do something mindless, like watch Holy Southern’s football team on TV. But his dad hadn’t been answering Trent’s calls or texts. He needed to check up on the old man, who tended to handle stress with alcohol.
Trent bid Randy good night and wandered over to the bar and its pulsating music. Sure enough, Archie was listing on a bar stool. Next to Cora. Trent’s pulse kicked up a notch. Out of annoyance, he told himself.
Cora’s dark hair gleamed in the dimly lit bar, spilling across the shoulders of her blue blouse. Her long legs were bare. Her skirt short. And he bet if she turned he’d find an eye-drawing bit of cleavage.
He dodged around a foursome on their way out the door and into her line of vision. Instead of a knowing smile, she seemed almost relieved to see him. She held out her hand when he came closer. Magnetized, he hooked his fingers in hers, allowing her to draw him closer until he felt the warmth of her arm and inhaled the scent of vanilla.
“Look, Archie. Trent’s here.” She tugged Trent close enough to whisper, “Archie drunk dialed me an hour ago. He’s broken up about – ”
“Mary Sue Ellen is going to leave me,” Archie slurred, lifting his head a few inches above the bar.
Trent wasn’t going to admit it would be easier all around if Mary Sue Ellen came to her senses.
Archie made a woeful sound, like a sad, dying cat. “And this time, I don’t deserve it.”
“Dad, maybe it’s for the best.”
“Oh, that’s helpful.” Cora’s lips brushed Trent’s ear, as warm as her breath.
His fingers convulsed around hers. Immediately, he dropped her hand. His father couldn’t resist women. He’d always been grateful he hadn’t inherited Archie’s weakness.
Trent angled his head to speak in Cora’s ear. “Helpful would be butting out. Mary Sue Ellen dumps Dad about once a week.” He extricated himself from her. “Dad, if we leave now you can catch the second half of Holy Southern’s football game on TV.”
Archie’s eyes went from blurry into sharp focus. “Their defense is holier than Swiss cheese.”
Trent drew Archie to his feet. When he lurched, Cora slid off her bar stool and steadied his other arm. Her big purse containing her little dog swung wildly.
“I’ve got him,” Trent said. “Watch out for Brutus.”
“Brutus has the balance of a cat, unlike Archie. Humor me and let me help,” Cora countered.
They tottered slowly to the elevator, drawing more than their share of attention.
“Holy Southern wouldn’t hire me.” Archie sighed. “Hope their defense gives up fifty points.”
Cora chuckled, glancing around Archie to meet Trent’s gaze.
“It’s not funny,” Trent said, letting the elevator passengers disembark before moving forward. “No one will hire him and he’s about to become a daddy again.”
“They think I’m going to molest little girls.” Archie stumbled into the elevator despite their help.
“Brought that one on yourself,” Trent muttered. “You need to date women your own age.”
“He is dating women his own age,” Cora murmured. “At least emotionally.”
The truth of her statement struck uncomfortably home.
They covered the rest of the way to Archie’s room in silence. Once his dad was safely reclining on the bed with the television tuned to the football game, they left him, traversing the hallway in silence once more.
“I like Archie,” Cora said as they approached the elevators. “He reminds me of my dad. That zest for life and an over-abundance of love – ”
“He gives his love out too easily and to the wrong women.” Trent cut her off. “He’s dodged bullets like this for years. His luck ran out.” And now Trent was paying for it. “No one saw you in the bar with him tonight, did they? You didn’t have any of your spies there taking pictures?”
The elevator doors slid open and they stepped inside, he keeping careful distance from her. If he kept his eyes where they belonged, his dick wouldn’t start noticing the distinctive way she rotated her hips when she walked or the tantalizing scoop of her blouse.
“Did it ever occur to you that those pictures don’t do my career any good either?” Her fists balled on slender hips. “You think I like being called into Jack’s office so he can bark at me?”
“Those pictures bring you more business. Clients like Jack are just part of your daily routine.” He didn’t know why he was pushing her. Nothing was going right today, except his hold on his libido.
“Is this who the Reverend is? Judgmental and a downer?” She took a step toward him. “Or is this Trent Parker speaking?”
Trent could see how this would play out. They’d toss more insults and then they’d latch onto each other and he’d end up with another case of blue balls tonight.
She shook her head. “Your dad was three sheets to the wind tonight, but he was faking the night I brought him home. Does the good Reverend ever wonder why his father would play that game?”
Trent hid his shock by holding up his hands in surrender. “Let’s not do this.”
Her gaze narrowed. “What?”
“Fight. Kiss. Pretend we don’t want to fight or kiss.”
The elevator doors slid open on the lobby level.
Cora made a frustrated sound and left, leaving Trent wondering why his father would pretend to be tipsy.
L.A. Happenings by Lyle Lincoln
…The countdown to the Flash season has begun.
You can enjoy the athleticism of the Clippers, the celebrity watching of the Lakers, but the Flash brings all that plus drama.
…Who is the beautiful new BFF of Mimi Sorbet? The one with the handle @GlitterfrostGem. They were snapped while shopping with two adorable little dogs.
Chapter 11
“I thought we agreed to meet on Monday?” Vivian had answered a Saturday summons from her life coaching team at the Dooley Foundation.
Cora, the youngest Rule, led Viv back to the conference room. Although they hadn’t been in the same social circles until recently, Vivian had always admired Cora’s sense of fashion. Today she wore black cigar jeans and a teal blouse. Her platinum leather sling backs were high and looked like last year’s Christian Louboutin. Not that there was anything wrong with wearing last year’s fashion on Saturday morning. Saturday night was another story.
Viv always felt like a poser when she entered the Dooley Foundation offices. Despite the two little dogs racing in the hallway, the place had a spa-like feel – celery green walls, plush Oriental carpets, indoor trees and bamboo plants. She tried to project serenity, but she had too much anger, stress and fear twisting up her insides to succeed.
Since she’d left Jack, most of the time Viv felt as if she should slap somebody. Most of the time she felt as if she should be slapping her husband. For two years, they’d been at each other’s throats. For two weeks last month, they’d held onto each other and made love like rabbits. And then nothing. Nothing but the anger to keep her up at night.
Blue and Amber awaited Viv in the conference room. Blue held out a chair for her.
A trap. Something sharp and bitter gripped Viv’s lungs. She sat down. Hard. “If I’d known you were going to attempt an intervention, I would’ve brought my lawyer.” Who was she kidding? She wouldn’t have shown up. It was just…In some odd way, she’d trusted the Rules not to follow through on Jack’s bullshit.
Amber held up a check. One of Viv’s. “Here’s the deal. Jack’s paying us to make you happy, while you keep writing checks, the size of which we can’t ignore, hoping we’ll ignore Jack’s wishes.”
“Technically, not true.” Viv clenched her hands in her lap. “I wrote you a check a few weeks ago, while accepting coaching from Blue.” And because Blue agreed not to admit to the world that he wasn’t sleeping with Viv.
“We can’t accept this latest check.” Amber slid it across the table toward Viv.
Who didn’t touch it. “Why not?” Cold. She felt so cold. “You accepted the last one.” Her ability to control Jack, to make his life miserable, had kept her going when he rejected her. What would she do if they took that away?
“What my sister is trying to say,” Cora explained gently, picking up the check. “Is that we can’t accept this until we come to an agreement about what it’s for.”
“Viv.” Blue laid his arm across the back of Viv’s chair. He was darkly handsome and compassionate. He’d never forget his wife existed.
Why hadn’t she made a play for him last month? She could’ve seduced Blue. She could’ve been part of the Rule family, and left Jack behind. The thought trapped her breath in her throat. She imagined herself passing out, falling to the ground in need of CPR. And the hands that gripped her, the lips that sustained her life…she imagined they were…Jack’s. “Shit.”
The Rules exchanged glances. Their smiles softened.
Viv wanted to hit something. Or slide beneath the table and never be heard from again.
“Jack wants you to find inner peace,” Blue said.
“And a man,” Viv whispered, amazed at how just saying it, just acknowledging to someone that the love of her life didn’t want her brought her to the brink of a breakdown. Her insides felt mangled and heavy, heavy enough to drag her under the table – forget sliding!
Sink or swim.
Viv had always been a hopeless romantic, a hopeless optimist. She’d always believed Brad Pitt would come to his senses and go back to Jennifer Aniston. Look how that turned out.
From Viv’s right, Cora spoke again. “We want you to reclaim your power.”
“And find inner peace,” Amber added.
“But to do so,” Blue said, “you have to agree to several conditions.”
Viv bristled. “Screw conditions. Jack’s lawyer gives my legal counsel conditions. Jack shouts out conditions.” Although the last time he’d shouted at her, it was in the throes of climax. Oh, God, Viv. Don’t let go. “I don’t want your conditions.”
“But you love Jack, don’t you?” Cora’s tone was surprisingly compassionate, especially given the reputation of the crowd of young women she hung around. They were in the phase of sex-for-sex’s-sake, not looking for love.
Suspicion still bound her, keeping Viv immobile, making every breath an effort. She was unwilling to trust anyone when her heart was at stake. “Why should I listen to you, Cora? You almost ruined your brother’s love life.” Cora was the reason Blue’s exes had publicly humiliated him.
“I wanted him to realize those women weren’t right for him.” Cora smiled fondly at her brother. “And you’ll notice that he’s no longer a shallow playboy. He’s in a committed relationship. And from the smile on his face and the circles under his eyes, he’s in love and getting laid regularly.”
Blue drew back. “Cora.”
“I’m a bitch. I make no apologies for it.” Cora ignored her brother. “Contractually, Jack hired Blue to make you happy last month. Sign a contract with me to regain your power and you’ll be back to living in Jack’s mansion in no time. With him.”
They were dangling crack in front of a crack addict. Still, Viv hesitated.
“You’ve tried being a pain in his ass.” Cora continued to be understanding. “You’ve tried jealous break-up sex. It’s time to try something different.”
Vivian knew she was going to regret asking, but how could she not? “What do you have in mind?”
~*~
Evan Oliver was right. Every member of the Flash showed up at seven a.m. at the practice facility’s fitness room Monday morning.
Trent was impressed.
It helped that no expense had been spared in the training room. The equipment was first rate. The place was cleaner than most college locker rooms.
“You work out with us today, Coach?” Ren Du, the seven-foot tall South Korean, placed his Gigantor-sized hand on Trent’s shoulder.
“Yep.” Trent nodded. He was anxious to see which of his players weren’t going to be on his roster when training camp started in a week and the pre-season in two.
“Evan’s great at sermons to keep you going, Reverend.” Antoine Watson, the speedy guard, stepped on a treadmill and tried to tread on the Reverend’s image.
Players claimed cardio machines. Trent got on a treadmill next to Evan. Randy glanced around self-consciously. His left Achilles was taped. His right knee was in a serious-looking brace.
Ren took pity on him, showing the young coach an open spin bike that would be easier on his knee. No one said anything as Randy got on. The video of his tangled injury during the NCAA finals last March was an athlete’s worst nightmare. Not to mention a coach’s. If he didn’t steel himself, Trent couldn’t look at Randy walk without regret clogging up his throat.
His father would call that a sentimental weakness: Winners care about nothing but the win.
His father had claimed this workout was a sissy move. He was back at the hotel, nursing a hangover, clinging to a denial of Cora’s observation that he’d ever faked being drunk.
“Fuckin’-damn, Parker.” Evan scowled in Randy’s direction. “Don’t embarrass him.”
“He can take it. He’s a strong kid. And a reminder.” Trent let Evan interpret just who and what Randy was a reminder of – Trent’s willingness to sacrifice a player for a win, or Trent’s need to assuage his guilt for ending a player’s promising career.
Evan’s scowl deepened as he called, “Five-minute warm up.”
All chatter in the room
stopped. Headphones went in ears. Trent matched Evan’s speed, a brisk four mile-per-hour walk. He was overly-aware of Randy’s slow, steady pace on the bike.
I did that to him.
And he’d have to be prepared to do it to the men in this room if necessary. Whatever he needed for a victory. It was how his father had made a name for himself. A post-season appearance was the only way Jack would extend his contract.
Show no weakness, Archie would say with a threatening grimace – a direct contradiction to the cupcake he was with the ladies.
A few minutes later, the door to the workout room opened. Vivian strutted in, wearing a skimpy pair of black shorts and a sports bra, and talking to a man with a clipboard. Cora followed, looking more conservative in a pair of black yoga pants and a tank top that molded her breasts.
“What the hell, Cora?” Evan never broke stride.
Evan’s sister-in-law shrugged and pointed toward Vivian, who smiled sweetly at Evan. “As part-owner of the team, I have every right to be here.”
All eyes devoured the two women. Ren waved at Cora. She waved back and greeted several other players. Trent ignored a stab of jealousy. He hadn’t thought about Cora at all since Friday night. At least, never willingly. Sometimes the memory of red lace surfaced, along with an unexpected, unwanted longing. He’d hoped to come to the NBA and bury the Reverend with the best L.A. had to offer. Not only couldn’t he shed the Reverend, but he couldn’t get his mind off of one woman! Nothing was going as planned.
“This is exactly the kind of shenanigans I wouldn’t tolerate,” Trent grumped. “If I was officially the team coach, I’d boot their butts out.”
Evan snapped loose a string of profanity that would’ve had Minister Bishop shouting out bible verses. “You’d be wasting your breath. Viv wouldn’t leave. Welcome to the Gordon battlefield.” The Flash’s captain accelerated his pace to a run. “Light it up. Five minutes. No slacking.”
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 10