by Yvette Hines
One brief kiss and he had wanted more. He shook his head.
“Another Thunder groupie?”
He glanced up at Hank who had returned and shrugged. “Possibly.”
“They were celebrating one of the ladies upcoming wedding. They were all pretty toasted when they came in. If it wasn’t for the pregnant DD that promised to keep them out of trouble, I wouldn’t have served any of them.” Hank ran a white towel inside a wine glass he’d finished rinsing.
“I’m sure they’ve moved onto the next place.” Donovan picked up his first drink with the two fingers of liquor and considered not drinking it, but as the thoughts of his job came to the forefront again he downed it.
“Want another?”
“Naw, that’s it. Or you’ll be dragging me out.” Donovan fished his wallet out of the inside of his suit jacket then drew out some bills to pay.
“The hell if I’m going to be lifting your big ass. I’ll call in some of your teammates to come get you.”
Teammates. That word had always meant something to him. Family. However, now he wasn’t so sure anymore. Were things about to change for me?
He chucked money on the bar beside the glasses.
Hank swiped the dollars from the bar and held up the two twenties. “Way too much.”
“Keep it. It’s a lot less than what I feel I need to spend here tonight.” Tapping a hand on the polished wood he stood. “Night.”
“Take it easy, Tank.” Hank called out his nickname.
Not responding Donovan strolled toward the door, fully aware of the people turning in his direction eyeing him. It was something he’d become accustomed to over the years he’d played professional football. A Heisman winner in college and Rookie of the Year his first year in the NFL, he had a face most recognized instantly in this town. Normally. However, it hadn’t escaped his notice that like tonight and over the last couple of months, he got recognition glances less frequently.
Shoving through the door, he allowed that trail of thinking to slip away. If he didn’t he’d be making a U-turn back into the bar. A part of him was thankful he didn’t see the group of ladies when he stepped out. Except there was a secret part of him that would have liked to get a glimpse of the curvy beauty in better lighting than the bar offered. It was probably a good thing he didn’t. He’d taken a cab to the place and even though he spotted one along the curb letting out some club goers, he ignored it and decided to walk. It was early evening and he wanted to get lost in the noise. It was downtown Miami and the air was pumping with various music from salsa clubs and techno beat from disco halls. Not to mention every car going down the street had radios blaring as men called and hooted to women as they passed them. Friday night was just getting heated up.
This was Miami. His home for more than seven years. He was an Iowa boy born and bred. The fast-pace of the sun-kissed city had taken him a while to get used to. Now it was in his blood.
He still traveled back to Iowa, more in the last six months. The rabbit hole of desolation loomed before him. Soon he’d have to make a decision. Not tonight.
After walking three blocks he stepped to the curb and hailed a cab. Next week would be there all too soon.
Chapter Two
“Mr. Stosch, will see you now.” Jill, the administrative assistant for the head partner of the firm, hung up the phone and offered Jo’el a nod.
“Thank you.” Jo’el rose from one of three chairs outside the office. With her portfolio in hand she moved to the door. “Morning, Mr. Stosch. You wanted to see me?”
“Ah, Joel come on in.” He held his arms wide as he stood behind his desk. The smile on the stout older man’s face was almost as wide as his face. “Have a seat.”
A little uneasy about the joyous reception, she walked toward one of the two chairs across from his desk and tried to ignore the swishing sound her polyester pants made as they rubbed between her thighs. Doing what she loved and made her the most comfortable, completely disregarding her boss’ odd attitude, she opened up the leather folder and began sliding out the sheets she’d been working on. “Um, I assume you want the numbers I have gathered and correlated to the prospective decline of the stock market last month and the impact it will have on our client—”
“No. I’ll take a look at those later. You can leave them with Jill on the way out or brief Dennis on them before we meet on Wednesday.” He sat down in his plush, leather, high back chair then drew closer to the desk.
“Oh. Okay.” She shoved her glasses higher up her nose and met his gaze. “What is it you wanted to meet about?”
He leaned back and created a bridge with his interlocked fingers over his potbelly. “Joel. Joel.” He said her name twice then paused and stared at her silently for a moment. He always said her name without the break in the middle making it sound more masculine.
When she’d first started with the company, she’d corrected him a few times, but once he persisted she just left it alone. Around the office she just thought of it as an odd nickname, because everyone followed suit with the big boss.
The longer he stared at her, the more ill at ease she became. Keeping her hands from fidgeting with either her glasses or the collar of her shirt that had a tag that was irritating her skin, she gripped the edges of her portfolio tighter. “Yes, sir.”
“You’ve been with Stosch, Morgan and Stosch for more than four years now.”
After she licked her lips, which most likely had cleared off the remainder of her lip balm, she said, “Four years and three months today, sir.”
“Yes. Well, with that time in. I’m sure partner has to be on your radar of goals.”
“Absolutely.” Jo’el’s heart started to race.
“You’re what we call our it girl. Did you know that?”
She had busted her ass with this company for years. As the top analysis at the company she had her hand in practically every project the company put forth. She was the go to person for the financial managers and partners when they were putting packages together. “Yes. I’ve heard it mentioned a time or two.” Or a hundred.
“Well, when my brother and I started this firm, we always wanted to be a company that recognized hard work and dedication with raises and positions.”
A raise would be nice, but they paid her well and she would much rather have a higher position at the company—partner. “I’ve seen that during the time I’ve been here.”
“Good.” He shifted, bringing his body forward and resting his elbows on top of his desk. “I want to fully utilize your potential at this company.”
So do I. She remained silent and waited.
“Recently the partners have been discussing making an opening for a new partner slot.”
Is this it? Her leg started to shake and she had to press down on it with her folder to keep it from jumping.
“I’m going to give it to you straight, Joel. You’re on the top of the list to fill that spot.” He smacked his palm on the table and offered her another broad smile.
“Really?” She placed a hand over her heart. It was racing so fast she was sure she’d faint from the excitement. “I promise to do all I can to help this firm’s continuing success.”
He held up a hand. “I hope that’s true. The position is not guaranteed yours yet.”
“Oh…um…of course not. I know the board still has to review my performance and vote.” The last time someone had made partner there had only been a two week buzz around the office and a lot of closed doors meetings and then the person was in. Jo’el had no worries about her work performance.
“That’s true. Honestly, we not concerned about the job you’ve done so far. It’s what you will be able to do in the future.” Picking up the pen on his desk, Mr. Stosch began to flip it, tapping one end then the other on the desk mat.
“That’s understandable.”
“Your work has been impeccable up to this point. However we don’t need an analyst as a partner. That’s considered mid-level work.”
She didn’t know what to say to that. It was her analysis work that had her butt in this chair at this moment. “What do you need me to do if not my job?”
“Partners at the firm are expected to actively increase our business. To take the numbers and financial analysis and present them to clients and get them to come on board. Allow us to manage them. Then help them make money so we can make money.”
“Yes, sir. It makes sense. I believe my ability to find those financial gains and stock market projections and loopholes would continue to assist management in bringing new clients in,” she reassured him. She wanted him to see that having a partner as a numbers person was a true win/win.
“It is definitely an asset.” He set the pen down and linked his hands over his stomach again. “For you to become partner the board and I need to know that you can step into this next level. Wear a different hat if you will.”
“What hat is that?” Her thumb traced along the stitching of her portfolio.
“A financial manager.” Mr. Stosch opened up a folder on the side of his desk. He pulled out a bright colorful flyer. “Miami Thunder’s president Ian Dare just started an innovative program to train and educate football players in multiple areas of life for during their NFL careers and beyond. The Thunders are the first team to institute post-career education. The aim is to have their players successful physically, psychologically and socially. They’re looking to add a financial component to it. I want that spot to be Stosch, Morgan and Stosch.” He held out the flyer to her.
She reached out to take it. Holding it before her, she stared down at the bright glossy advertisement seeing the smiling player in uniform holding a football. In the other corner was the same player in a business suit. She didn’t recognize the man at all. In between was a list of catch phrases and keywords she would assume would lure in players to come to the briefings and make appointments. Some of the jargon went over her head not being a sports watcher of any kind.
“This would be quite the coup to get.” She began to hand the flyer back.
“Keep it. Think on it. I want you to be the manager that brings it home.” He stroked a wide hand down his tie. A tie she had no doubt cost more than her entire outfit from shirt to shoes.
Fashion wasn’t her thing. Neither was financial management where she was one on one with clients or speaking before people. “In my opinion, I think one of the more experienced partners should handle someone as important as this.”
He leaned toward her. “You want an opinion…become a partner.”
The intercom on his desk bussed.
He reached over and pressed the button. “Yes, Jill.”
“Roger Lackland is here to see you.” The clear, efficient voice of his assistant filled the room.
Tilting his head, Mr. Stosch pinned her with a hard stare. “I’m wrapping up here. Have him sit tight.”
Roger was a mid-level manager. He handled small corporate accountants, but was a brownnoser who’d been bucking for partner since the day he got there two years ago. What did their meeting mean? she wondered.
“I’m going to be frank with you, Joel. We want to start a different branch of management, sports. The Thunders would solidify the NFL that and give us an avenue into NHL, NBA, NTL and many others.” He jammed a finger onto the folder. “We recently interviewed a whiz kid from Harvard due to graduate in December, he’ll start interning with us, you most likely, this Fall. I don’t need another analysis...I’ll have to create a spot.”
She clearly understood his message. This wasn’t just about her moving up to partner…it was about her moving out of her current job in a few months.
Before she could say anything else, he spoke. “There are two other people under review for partner. You’re my first choice. Don’t let me down.”
Her palm felt clammy, her right leg started to bounce. She’d come into this meeting secure in her place in the company she’d given her heart and time to it for years. Now, all of that was in jeopardy.
She felt it in her stomach. The rolling feeling was worse than Friday night when she’d had way too much to drink and found herself kissing a stranger and ended up bent over a trash can embarrassing herself. “How long do I have to think this through and figure out how and who to arrange a meeting with?”
Mr. Stosch smiled. “That’s the Joel I know. The go-getter.” He stood up then walked around the desk with his hand out. “Ian Dare is expecting you tomorrow at eleven.”
Shocked at the quickness of the appointment, she stood on wobbly legs. Taking a breath she steadied herself as she quickly wiped her hand down her thigh to rid herself of the moisture before grasping his hand. “Thanks for your confidence in me.” She didn’t feel like thanking him, but knew it was what he expected and the right thing to do. They were giving her an opportunity here to make partner.
She only wished she wasn’t nervous about fucking it up big time and landing on her ass with no job.
“I know you won’t let me down.” He released her hand and escorted her to the door.
She stepped out into the waiting area and immediately her gaze landed on Roger’s. The man sat in the chair with his legs crossed, in another of his famed custom-made suits, appearing cool and cocky. The complete opposite of how she felt. If he was here to meet with Mr. Stosch she was sure he’d be offered the partnership. Or told if she failed, it would be his.
Feeling, pressured and more than a little agitated, she faced her boss and pushed out a tight smile as she offered her hand.
“Hope to be hearing good news from you soon.” Mr. Stosch gave her a firm shake and a hard look that seemed to speak volumes before he released her hand.
All she could do was give a quick nod then she walked away toward the elevators. How did it happen that one second I was top analysis and the next I was one wrong step away from losing my job?
When the elevator dinged and opened, she stepped inside moving on automatic as she compressed the button to her floor. She was thankful that it was empty she wanted to be alone at that moment. Her heart felt a twinge of pride that the partners had that kind of faith in her that she could go out and acquire such a deal. However, the rest of her was more than a little angry at the situation. “Not to mention I have to train my own replacement.”
Leaning against the back wall, she gripped the hand bar that ran along beside her hip. Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes and started to pray…she stopped, her eyes popped open. “What the heck am I praying for?”
She couldn’t even answer that.
~YH~
“Look, Tank, it’s not personal.” Coach Carter shoved a hand through his hair as he sat with his office chair leaned way back holding the clipboard with the team roster in hand.
“If feels fuckin’ personal.” Donovan grumbled then flexed his jaw attempting to alleviate the tightness there. Earlier he’d had the conversation with the DLC, but when he was told the final decision came from Head Coach Carter he’d showered and sought out the man. “Many guys have had injuries and once they were cleared, they stepped right back into their position without a bunch of bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit.” Coach’s chair snapped forward as he leaned up quick. “It’s all about who’s the best person for the spot. That’s it. You damn well know that when a kickass player is injured sometimes there is no one good enough to backfill until he’s better. So, when the player is better there’s no question about where he’ll be. The rookie came in after your injury and killed it.” He threw his hands up. “How the fuck was I supposed to see that coming? Is he better than you? Maybe…I don’t know.”
“So, I’m going to have to test and fight for my position like some milk sucker day one on the field?”
“Hey, it’s how things are sometimes.” Coach shrugged big shoulders, his body still holding some of its structure from back when he played football and taking MVP. “I got management breathing down my ass for wins. I’m going to rely on my position coaches to select the ones who are read
y during training. No difference.”
Nothing more to say. And he damn sure didn’t want to hear anything else, Donovan stood. “Thanks for your time, Coach.”
“You’re looking at this all wrong, Tank.” Coach’s words stopped him at the door.
Glancing over his shoulder, he glanced at the older man who was standing behind his desk now. He waited.
“Trainer says you’re ready. I have faith in you. So, now you get to show everyone you’ve still got it.”
“I thought that’s what I had been doing over the last ten years.” Without another word, he walked opened the door and left. To pissed to answer the ‘Have a good day’ by the coach’s personal assistant.
As one of the older members of the team he knew he most likely had a year or three left in his career. There was always going to be someone quicker and stronger to come along. However, he wasn’t ready to take a back seat. If his contract wasn’t renewed after this year with the Thunder, he’d be a free agent. He’d never played for another team since he’d left college and entered the draft after his sophomore year, one of the youngest NFL players a month after his twenty second birthday.
A torn quad during a game in Wisconsin when it was unseasonable cold had sidelined him most of last season. He’d spent the season and off season before training camp getting himself in the best shape he felt he’d ever been. Now to have to prove himself to his coaches and team, practically his only family.
His cell vibrated in his pocket as he reached his car in the team parking lot at the Thunder Dome.
“Hello.”
“Hi, baby brother,” Kylie’s lyrical voice flowed through the line with a crackle at the end. He wished she had gone on to become a singer instead of wasting her youth raising a child, him.
“How are you feeling?” Slipping behind the wheel he held the phone.