Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015

by Melinda Curtis

  “Bullshit, Trent. He’s testing you.” Her voice shook with annoyance, making him wonder if she was mad enough to kiss him. “The beard disguises his smile.”

  Trent looked. Irving’s lips should have been shaped like a gasping O. Instead, they curled in a sly smile. Cora was right.

  Trent swore. “Irving, drop and give us twenty pushups.”

  The big man stopped jogging to the back of the line.

  “You put in 100%, Irving. Or you can gather your gear and head home.” Trent was no slouch in the evil-death-ray glare department. “Your choice.”

  The big man did as Trent asked, while the rest of the team grabbed water.

  “You’re good,” Trent said to Cora.

  “I know.”

  “I’ll find an appropriate way to thank you later.” Trent hopped in line, hustling as hard as his players did, letting Irving know that no one shorted effort on practice.

  When they broke for three-point shots, Cora was gone.

  Unfortunately, Irving’s sullen attitude wasn’t. He loitered near the bleachers. “I’m an inside player. I don’t shoot threes.”

  “Everyone on this team shoots the long ball.” Trent gestured toward Ren. The South Korean sunk three in a row.

  Irving headed back out to the court and proceeded to clank the rim on all his shots.

  “Would management really let him sit at home and collect his salary if you didn’t want him to play?” Randy asked.

  “Let’s not find out.” Trent poker-faced him.

  Randy did a double-take. Then he grinned. “We have a new game plan?”

  Trent nodded. “We have a new game plan.” He had several new game plans – off and on the court. He hoped he wasn’t over-reaching and setting himself up to be screwed. He hated losing.

  ~*~

  “Oof.” Cora glared at Gemma, who’d just elbowed her in the ribs. Brutus growled in her arms.

  Cora and Gemma sat in chairs in the VIP dressing room of Xuri Fashions. They’d accompanied two clients on a much needed shopping trip.

  “Winnie asked you twice about what you think of that dress,” Gemma whispered, making urgent eyes in Winnie’s direction.

  “I like it.” Winnie Tiegler pivoted in front of the mirror in a clingy, blue jersey dress that showed way too much cleavage for a sixty-something, B-movie actress. “I didn’t gain a pound on that Alaskan cruise.”

  Cora sighed. She’d been school-girl dreaming about Trent’s promise to thank her later. Her mind never drifted when she planned to meet a man for sex. But it was drifting at the thought of Trent’s wink and wickedly-crooked smile. She been so preoccupied with thoughts of Trent, she hadn’t been tempted to buy anything at the stylish boutique.

  “Oof.” Gemma elbowed her again.

  The dress wasn’t appropriate for Winnie’s lunch with a movie producer later in the week, especially when the role was that of a hardworking Quaker wife from the 1920s.

  “Winnie.” Cora stood, handed Brutus to Gemma, and approached her client. “You have a great body.” A product of many plastic surgeons. “But when you show up for this meeting they need to see you as Winifred, a conservative, religious woman.”

  “Not Winnie the sex-pot.” Mary, Winnie’s mother, bobbed her gray-haired head.

  “Mama!” Winnie was good at the pivot-and-pose. “That’s why I brought Cora along today. I need positive reinforcement.” She swiveled to see herself in the mirror. “And this blue does wonders for my complexion.”

  Since Winnie had switched representation to Cy Maxwell and the Dooley Foundation did a lot of business with Cy’s other clients, Cora had been called in to suppress Winnie’s trashy side. Not to mention that Winnie totally ignored all the stylists Cy tried, including Xuri, herself.

  “Nobody’s arguing about you having beautiful…breasts.” Cora inwardly cringed. They were the breasts of a wannabe porn star, not a sixty-something woman who wanted to relaunch her career with potentially award-winning roles. “I haven’t seen any pictures of Quakers with double-Ds.”

  Winnie pouted. There was so much Botox in her face that only her lips moved.

  They might just as well cast Dolly Parton in the role. Was this Mimi’s future? Botox, suction, and silicon if she didn’t establish she had more talent than her appearance implied?

  “We could strap her girls down.” Mary tugged her purple polyester track jacket flat around her A-cup breasts.

  “Mama!”

  Cora immediately looked away. Unfortunately, her gaze landed on Gemma, who was trying not to laugh. It was time to cue the Rules of Attraction. “Winnie, what is it you want?”

  Winnie huffed like a junkie trying to get high on fumes. “I choose to be an award-winning actress. I feel strong and powerful and sexy, as if every man on the planet wants me.” She popped her hip out. “And I will welcome that feeling for years to come, every time I stare at the Oscar I’m going to win.”

  Good thing the Dooley Foundation didn’t guarantee results.

  “You’re in trouble.” Mary shook her head. “That’s not what she should be saying, is it?” She stared at Cora over the top of her circular sunglasses.

  Winnie stomped her foot. “Mama, I can choose any feeling I want, any dream I want.” She spun on Cora. “Can’t I?”

  Winnie and Mary launched into an argument where neither one listened to what the other had to say. Both were making their case to Cora.

  Gemma dipped her cheek down to rub against Brutus’ ears, most likely to hide her smile. As a life coach in training, Gemma was no help. And her boots were a blasphemous invasion of the exclusive boutique. Cora didn’t know what was more hellacious – not being able to try on any delectable clothes, or seeing Gemma turn up her nose at them.

  Cora wanted to take Winnie by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. Forget that any shaking would send the items they’d been arguing over spilling out of that dress. Winnie was living in her own world.

  “Enough!” Cora could see why the stylists Cy had tried to bring in had failed. “The goal is to find a dress that will get you in the running for an Oscar. Go try on the beige one.” The black inserts would draw attention away from Winnie’s frontal-obsessions.

  When Winnie opened her mouth to argue, Cora pointed to the dressing room. “Go!”

  Winnie flung her dyed blond hair over her shoulder.

  “When my daughter gets to the retirement home for actors, the only thing not sagging on that body will be her bazoongas.”

  “I heard that, Mama.”

  “Just sayin’ the truth,” Mary muttered. “Doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

  They sat in silence. Cora wished she knew how to help Winnie see herself the way others did.

  “Even Pamela Anderson got breast reduction surgery,” Gemma murmured.

  Cora should shush her, but she shared a secret smile with her instead.

  “It’s my fault.” Mary had tears in her eyes. “My second husband always made Winnie feel like she wasn’t good enough.”

  Cora understood about not feeling good enough. Her father had always seemed to love Amber more. And her mother was a beautiful supermodel who loved herself best. No matter which branch of the family she was with – standing in Dooley’s or Lucia’s shadow – Cora had felt invisible. For the most part, she was still invisible. No one looked at her and saw who she was inside.

  Except Trent.

  He looked at her. When he was in a room, she felt his full attention like a caress on her skin. It made her feel strong and powerful and sexy. And for a time…loved. That warm-in-the-chest, butterfly feeling, scared her. She wasn’t the kind of girl men fell in love with. She was a high maintenance bitch. And for her to have that feeling could only lead to heartache. Maybe it wasn’t Mimi that Winnie was like when she was younger. Maybe it was Cora. In which case, Winnie needed some good loving.

  “If my second husband was still alive,” Mary was saying. “I’d give him a cheap shot in the nuts.”

  Winni
e appeared in the beige dress, looking classically age appropriate.

  “You look lovely,” Gemma said in her be-kind-to-others voice.

  “I look forgettable.” Winnie slouched.

  “You look Oscar-worthy.” It was true. If Cora was more than the rare-hugging type, she might have hugged Winnie. She was on a roll. She’d pegged Hugh Irving. Trent had complimented her. Why stop now? “Winnie, can I ask you a personal question?”

  The aging actress shrugged. “You’re my life coach.”

  “When was the last time you went out on a date with your husband?”

  From the ensuing silence, Cora bet it had been far too long.

  Chapter 26

  “Coach, I scheduled an interview for you.” In a red skirt so tight it was amazing she could breathe, Vivian stopped a few feet away from Trent. “Can you come to my office? The reporter is here.” Vivian looked about as sincere as a vulture circling a carcass.

  Trent tried to blow her off. “Media day is Saturday.”

  “This is pre-media.”

  The brute-force squad was finally clicking, pounding on defense, if not still struggling on offense. Trent wanted to watch them run the modified Carolina Break one more time.

  “Coach. Please.” Vivian hadn’t spoken that kindly to him since he’d visited Jack in the hospital.

  Trent relented, left Archie in charge, and followed Vivian to Jack’s office.

  A wisp of a middle-aged man sat in a guest chair. He stood when they came in. “Stu Stevens. Play Girl Magazine. So glad you agreed to the spread. Not everyone with a hot career like yours does.”

  Trent’s foot didn’t quite clear the dark carpet on the floor.

  Stu grabbed hold of his hand, shaking it. “We interview today. We’d like to shoot you on Friday.”

  Wanting to shoot someone, Trent looked around for Vivian, but she’d closed the door behind him.

  “Sit down. It’s not what you think.” Stu hadn’t let go of his hand. Probably he ambushed a lot of guys like this. Trent would look like a wuss if he ran at this point.

  He sat, earning his hand back from Stu.

  “I’m not going to ask you your most intimate fantasies about a woman.”

  Cora. “I haven’t agreed to this interview – ”

  “And I’m not going to ask you to give yourself an elbow injury creating a great photo opp on Friday.”

  “I have a busy schedule and – ”

  “Women are the fastest growing demographic for the NBA. They buy more merchandise than men. Mrs. Gordon tells me she’s creating a line of merchandise specifically for you.”

  Trent opened his mouth and nothing came out, because a line of merchandise designed by Vivian couldn’t be good. She could have anything up her sleeve, from fly swatters to condoms.

  Stu kept on pitching. “Any press you receive will positively impact your sales and your merchandise royalties.” His gaze drifted below Trent’s waist. “Regardless of how much our magazine shows.”

  Trent crossed his legs. “I show nothing.”

  “Do you have any tattoos? Colin Kaepernick increased his star power with tasteful photos in the naked edition of ESPN magazine. Nobody complained that he held back his money shot.”

  That was the only thing the young quarterback hadn’t shown. “No skin.” Trent started to stand.

  “I can see you have concerns. To be fair, an article in our magazine will be polarizing. It might upset your ex-wife and her family.” Kudos to Stu for having done his homework. “Either way, it ups your media quotient. And a high Q-rating goes a long way when you’re looking for a new job.”

  Trent hesitated. A feature in Play Girl was a firing offense when you were a coach at a religious college. Rachel’s father would be livid. Trent’s father would rant for days. No college would hire him. There’d be no going back if this job didn’t work out.

  But Cora would applaud his courage.

  “You have twenty minutes.” Trent settled in his seat and checked his phone. “And if you ask about my sex life, your clock expires.”

  Stu grabbed his iPad from his bag. “You won’t regret this.”

  “I already do.”

  ~*~

  Vivian didn’t know how long Coach Parker would play along with Stu. She re-entered the practice gym and chose her next victim.

  Hugh Irving ambled off the court. His size intimidated her. It would be easier to pick on one of the babies that were assistant coaches. Easier, but not as potentially damaging.

  She crooked her finger at Hugh.

  He walked in her direction with a slow, deliberate pace and an intense stare that stole her breath. It was sexy and demanding at the same time. If she overlooked the hick beard.

  “Yes, ma’am.” His deep voice rumbled in a nice way. He could have a career in broadcasting if playing didn’t work out. And if he shaved regularly. In college, he’d been an attractive young man. Shag-worthy.

  If she had sex with someone like Hugh, could she squelch her love for Jack forever? Unlikely. “How’re you doing, Hugh?”

  His lips worked beneath his beard before he answered. “I’m just doing my job. Learning the system and working hard.”

  “Do you always do what you’re told?” She let a little sexual innuendo filter into her words.

  “I’m here to play, ma’am.”

  His ma’am was a mood-killer, a reminder of their nearly decade difference in age. She was getting older. Soon she’d be too old for babies. If she divorced Jack, the men she’d date would probably already have children and not want any more, not even adopted ones. Her arms felt weak and empty.

  Damn you, Jack.

  The big man stared down at her as if she was inconsequential. And why wouldn’t he? Jack had made her irrelevant.

  Viv’s limbs felt hot. She clenched her fists. “Hugh, this team has always thrived on rule breakers. Just look at Evan Oliver. He took over the Flash last season. If he were gone, we’d need a leader on the court. Someone with the balls – ” She let her gaze drop to the crotch zone. “ – to take control of the team.”

  “Coach Parker hasn’t asked me to – ”

  “Forget Coach Parker,” she snapped, drawing stares from the rest of the team. She lowered her voice. “Coach Parker is nothing. I’m asking you. I paid for you. You’ll do as I say.”

  “All due respect, ma’am, but I do as the coach tells me.”

  “Then you’d best lay off those Twinkies, because you’ll want to be in good shape when I release you.”

  ~*~

  Twenty minutes later, Trent found Vivian standing in a gym doorway watching the team with an unhappy glare. He couldn’t decide if she deserved his anger or his pity. “That was low.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She sniffed. “We need exposure to sell tickets.”

  “I’m not posing nude.” He had a very hard time understanding what Jack Gordon saw in Viv. On the surface, she and Cora were similar – both standoffish to strangers, real lookers, fashionable dressers. But they were worlds apart in personality. Cora was cuddly and trustworthy. Viv was about as cuddly and trustworthy as a boa constrictor on speed.

  “I didn’t expect you to go for the full monty.” But her smile indicated she wouldn’t have minded.

  Trent needed to return to practice, but he needed answers, too. “What’s all this about merchandise? Coaches don’t have merchandise.”

  Her smile was calculated to get under his skin. “Of course, they do, Reverend. Bobbleheads, T-shirts with your inspirational sayings, and the like.”

  It felt like she was selling his soul. “I didn’t agree to any of that.”

  “Check your contract.” She left him.

  Lunch came in. It wasn’t the usual assortment of grilled meat and chicken, fresh vegetables, or healthy sandwiches. The office staff carried in bags of McDonald’s. The smell of grease and French Fries permeated the air.

  “What the hell is this?” Trent glared at them.

 
“Mrs. Gordon had us change the menu.”

  The team stopped shooting. A few ventured closer. Hugh Irving was the boldest. He reached for a bag.

  “Touch that food and you’re out,” Trent snarled like a dog defending his backyard from the pool man.

  Irving drew his hand back. “It’s lunch, Coach.”

  “It’s not lunch for you.” Trent turned to Zach and Nina. “Take this to the nearest homeless shelter.”

  The office staff gathered up the bags and left, but the smell of junk food remained.

  “That’s it,” Trent said. “We’re going to lunch as a team. I’m buying.”

  “I know just the place.” Evan grinned.

  The team’s captain led them to a healthy sub shop. A couple of the guys posted their location on Twitter or something. Soon their lunch was a fan-fest.

  Irving seemed a bit overwhelmed and kept to himself. The rest posed for pictures with fans and had their egos stroked.

  It put them off-schedule for the rest of the afternoon, but it was worth it. And he wished Cora had been there to share it with the guys.

  ~*~

  “So you’re dating him.” Mimi applied eyeliner to one of Gemma’s closed eyelids.

  “I haven’t decided,” Cora said. “Maybe he’ll just be a practice date.”

  “What’s the difference between real dating and practice dating?” Clutching her glasses, Gemma wished she could open her eyes and see the expression on Cora’s face. Practice dating? What a stupid idea? It was something Dooley would laugh about for days. It made Gemma want to laugh. But that wouldn’t help Cora or help Gemma prove to Amber she had life coaching skills. She carefully kept humor out of her voice when she asked, “How is practice dating different from the arrangements you had before?”

  “Excellent question, padawan.” The sound of Mimi rummaging in her make-up case had Gemma opening her eyes. “I’m not sure I know myself.”

  “Of course, you know, Mimi.” In the mirror, Gemma saw a blurred image of Cora sitting on the bed.

  Mimi’s bedroom was white as a cloud. The perfect retreat for an angel or a wedding night.