Counting the minutes until Cooter’s funeral.
Hadn’t heard from that snarky conscience for a while and she chose now?
I hoisted my suitcase into the trunk—because apparently a twenty-four buck fare didn’t include manual labor—and slid into the back seat.
My key still opened my front door. My television still hung on the living room wall above the mid-century console and adjacent to the wall of glass facing west, and in the near distance, the ocean, and my fake tabby still warmed the corner of the Italian leather sofa I paid far too much for. I dropped my bags, flopped onto the upholstery and hauled him onto my lap. “Hello, Bill. Did you miss me?” When I flipped his switch, he purred. At least one of us could pretend to be happy I was home.
What I didn’t have to fake, though, was that a monumental event Madyline and I were promoting was less than a month away. I could sit around and worry whether Moreover recognized how deeply Deke cared for his town—how much he deserved to be elected their mayor. I could fret whether Beth solved the mystery behind the town’s disappearing items without it becoming dangerous for her. I could wonder if Ruby was considering a computer for her business, and what Colleen thought about adding reader events to attract customers to her bookstore.
Despite my daily telephone calls with Madyline while I was away, my desk would be overflowing with tasks that had backed up until I returned. I turned off my cat and drove to our office. I found her yelling instructions to her assistant, Carrie, in the outer office while typing into her laptop and carrying on a video chat with one of our clients currently on vacation in Italy. In other words, status quo.
I’d been at it endlessly for hours—paperwork, emails, telephone calls—until I realized the rumble that jolted me from the zone I was in was my stomach protesting. I wandered into the kitchen and got a yogurt from the refrigerator. The office was quiet with no conversations thrown from one office to the other. I poked my head down their hallway and realized Madyline and Carrie weren’t at their desks and their offices seemed shut down for the day. My desk phone rang again and I ran to answer.
Madyline’s voice was a relieved laugh. “Dixie! I can’t believe we did this, but Carrie and I have a meeting in Santa Monica this afternoon so we ran to grab some lunch beforehand. We totally forgot you were in the office, so I didn’t tell you we were leaving.”
What the hell? I’d been gone less than a week and her assistant was filling in at meetings?
“Dixie, you there?”
“Oh, yeah. Sure. No problem. I’ve got plenty of work to do. I’ll see you when you get back.”
“Well, that’s the thing. I wasn’t sure if you’d be in today—jet lag and all that. Mitch Andrews scored us tickets for the Pantages after all, but I offered yours to Carrie.” She barreled on with their plans to shop for the perfect dress and then get manicures before they hit the red carpet at my favorite theater in the city. Seriously? I needed to get off the phone before I said something I’d regret.
“Don’t worry about it, Mads. You called that right. I am tired from my trip.” I faked a yawn. “I’ll probably be passed out in front of the television by eight.” My cell phone rang from deep in my purse, too far to reach from my perch on my desk. After three rings, it went to voicemail. The excuse still worked, though.
“Gotta run, Madyline. My cell’s ringing. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Okay, then. Good-bye—”
I disconnected before she could share any other details of the night she and I had planned for weeks—the night Carrie managed to take over while I was away.
When my cell phone rang again, I snapped a hello before the call went to voicemail.
“Dixie, tell me you’re back in LA. I’ve missed you!”
“Drew?”
“Of course, darlin’. I’m driving through the canyon with the top down, thinking how beautiful you’d look sitting beside me with your hair blowing in the wind. I’ll be at your place in thirty. We’ll take a drive up the coast, grab some dinner, watch the moon come up over the water. What do you say?”
I rolled my eyes. Then I took a deep breath. My next move may be important to the company. “Drew, did you forget that you’re supposed to be in Colorado, on a movie set? Salvaging your career?”
“Yeah, Dixie, about that . . .”
I held up my hand. As if he could see me. “Stop. Right. There. Do you know how hard we worked to get you that gig? You said you’d behave. You agreed you’d do what was expected until it finished.” I shoved my hand in my front pocket when I realized I was tearing at my hair.
“The thing is, they cut my part short and I was done. No more second-rate motel, no more running in the mountains, no more goddamn Jeep. Ben let me catch his jet back to town and here I am.”
What annoyed me above all was the way Drew threw the names of celebrities around as if they were besties, when his agent probably scoured all of Colorado to rent a private jet so Drew wouldn’t have to sit with the common people flying commercial. Those same people who helped pay his multi-million-dollar salary, yet probably didn’t even know who he was. At least, that was our mission in keeping him out of the limelight these past months.
Tomorrow’s calendar was already slammed, but this couldn’t wait. “All right, Drew. Meet me in my office tomorrow at ten. That will give me a chance to make a few calls, see what’s going on. We can talk then.”
“But what about tonight? Dinner? The moon?”
This guy was unreal. “You get an hour in my office tomorrow, Drew. I’m planning to stay in tonight.”
“Dinner at your place. That works too. I’ll bring the wine.”
“Hang up now, Drew. Drive carefully. Tomorrow we’ll talk about next month’s benefit. You’re slated to be my escort. No call girls, no ex-girlfriends. Understand?”
“Jesus, Dixie, I like this bossy side of you. It’s kinda hot.”
I clicked off the call without saying good-bye. There was no getting ahead with this narcissistic egomaniac. Only thing to do was ignore him as much as possible.
The banging on the door later that evening caught me as I stripped off my bra, so I left it hooked and slid my sundress back over my head. The delivery driver from Chung Lee’s was quick tonight, but not fast enough to get a glimpse of the girls. My trot down the stairs and through the condo had me nearly out of breath by the time I opened the door.
“Dix. Baby.” I stumbled into Drew as he sailed over the threshold and into my living room. He pressed a tapered bottle of wine into my hands. “Thank God you’re back from that godforsaken place and back to civilization. Do you know how fucking cold it gets at night?”
I peered out the door to make sure my dinner delivery wasn’t near, then closed the door on the stuffy outside air.
Drew grabbed my hand and drew me closer. “You don’t really want to stay in tonight. Let’s grab dinner. We have so much to catch up on that can’t wait until tomorrow. I have to tell you about Colorado. You can’t ever do that to me again.”
I detached myself from his grip. “No worries about that, Drew. You didn’t even stay until your contract was over. I doubt the opportunity will ever present itself.” The sarcasm sailed over his head.
He turned to face his image in the wall mirror and pulled a comb from his back pocket. “Maybe you want to go upstairs and, you know, change.” Satisfied his stray hairs were back in place, he headed for the couch.
“You’re right. That’s what I was doing before I had to answer the door. I was changing into something comfortable.” The idiot’s eyes lit with interest and he reached out for my wrist.
I swatted him away. “Into sweats, Drew!” I ducked around him to the other side of the couch. Was he really this dense? “I told you this afternoon I wasn’t going out with you tonight.” But Drew heard only what he chose to hear. He followed me to the couch and took the opposite corner. When he scooted closer I popped to my feet.
“Not gonna happen, Drew. We’re friends, right?” He nodded
with his face pulled into a frown. I forced a smile and held out my hand to him. Maybe if I fed his ego I could get him out of my house. He kissed my knuckles and again I rolled my eyes. Men. “You look terrific in a tuxedo. So tall and handsome. The women will be falling all over—”
He gave what he could see of my curves a blatant perusal from ponytail to Bomb Pop red painted toes. With my hand still in his, he tugged me closer. “Your fucking body is the only one I want all over me.” His eyes skittered toward the stairs leading up. He pushed my hand down to cover his crotch. “Feel how hard I am for you, baby.”
I jerked away and gave him a light shove. “Whoa, Casanova! You want to save that for someone who’ll appreciate it. I am so not interested.” Hopefully, my smile and soft tone let him keep his ego in check, but if he noticed the steel in my eyes, he knew I meant every word. He still had to be my date to the fundraiser, though, and I couldn’t afford to piss him off. His position on the team was tenuous, but he hadn’t been released yet. There was a long line of potential clients on the roster with him.
Drew gave me another once-over. “I know what you need, baby. I also know you don’t have a man in your life.” I lifted a brow. Like I’d choose chuck after feasting on filet mignon. “Oh, yeah. I make it my business to know who’s available. Just ask around. I know how to treat a lady right.”
The doorbell rang. Oh, thank God. I couldn’t take another second of this knucklehead’s posturing. “Well, that must be my Chinese. Nobody makes it like Chung Lee’s.” I opened the door to the delivery guy and left it standing wide after the guy took his money and left.
Too much to ask that he took the hint. “Chinese? Best eaten cold after a romp between the sheets. Offer still stands.”
I moved to the kitchen to set my dinner on the table. “Kung Pao for one, Drew. Remember, my evening alone?” This dude was unbelievable. It was too bad he was handsome, a minor celebrity, and had the potential for making millions. I’d seen him with groupies hanging all over him. They deserved each other. I returned and led him out the door. “My office. Tomorrow. Got it?”
He stood on my tiny porch with his eyebrows pinched together as if he couldn’t believe his smooth lines hadn’t worked on me. “Sure. Whatever you say, Dixie. I’ll see you later.” He turned and headed down the walk.
I closed the door and stood shaking my head, with my back pressed against the panel. “See you later, Chuck.”
It was my firm belief that whoever developed the concept of two-a-day football practice was someone who never coached and then had to operate as a functioning adult for the next eight hours. I’d been reconsidering this gig for weeks—especially the four a.m. wake-up call—and the entire ordeal was only made more tortuous by the lack of commitment on the field. These boys ran around as if they were herding squirrels.
I blew a short whistle and the defense huddled up on the line of scrimmage. Blake stood among a group of players and two parent volunteers on the opposite sideline, his ever-present white board clutched in his hand. Davis Gentry trotted past me and took a step on the field, so I grabbed his shoulder pad and yanked him back. “Davis, you’re fairly new to this school, right?”
The kid exploded out of my grasp. “Yeah. So?”
Fairly new to manners, too. “Can you count to eleven?”
“Of course, Coach!” His dragon breath roared at me and I took a step back.
I nodded onto the field, where QT Baker was taking the snap right around the thirty-yard line. “Pay attention. If you made it onto the field, it would have been a penalty.”
Davis dipped his head as he silently counted helmets on the play, then slunk off toward the bench. A wide receiver shot past me and drew my attention back to the field. QT bobbed and pranced with the football, finally decided he wouldn’t hatch it after all, and passed in the general direction of the receiver, who was now fifteen yards up field. The receiver lobbed one arm up into the air so I wouldn’t think he was only using his hand to pick his ass. The ball sailed right over his shoulder and would have landed in the hands of the cornerback if he hadn’t been picking his ass, too. After a quick time check, I blew a long whistle.
“Bring it in, guys. Take a knee.” The boys dragged ass and generally acted as interested in hearing the upcoming lecture as I was in delivering it. What could I say to motivate them? Jesus, I sucked at this. Blake released the defense and that group trudged over to join in. He trailed behind them, caught in conversation with the two dads who helped him coach. They found a spot on the outskirts of the team.
I waded through the sea of crouched bodies, some perched on a bent knee, some seated on their helmets. The rank odor of testosterone and sweat was thick in the air. This was a club I never belonged to in high school. And my college path was destined to lead me to the Geekville Hall of Fame, but a screwup in Res Life landed me a football player roommate in college. One who taught me to turn my life around.
“How many of you understand the concept of commitment?” Hands shot into the air all around me. Monkey see, monkey do. I nodded. “All right. How many of you understand the work ethic it takes to build a winning team? The gumption you all need to come out day after day and give it everything you all need? Not just the quarterback. Not just the key players. All of you. To work hard; to get better.” Only a handful went up immediately this time; others drifted up gradually, after they decided their rep could take the hit. A few brown-nosers followed.
I nodded again as I paced among them. “I’m glad to see that. Because I wondered. I didn’t see it today in your effort. But it’s up to you to decide the legacy you want to leave this school.” A few heads snapped and backs arched as I got their attention.
“This school sucks!” Snickers accompanied the crude remark from behind me. I followed the jibes and shoulder punches until I was staring down the likely culprit.
“You’ve been here for how long, Davis? Three weeks? What have you done to make it better?”
“Coach, this team hasn’t won a game in seven years!”
“You’re right. So, I ask you . . . Will your legacy be an eighth losing year? Or will it be the first winning season for the Spartans after a seven-year losing streak?” Animated mumbling rose around us. Jesus, was I actually getting my point across? I rode the tide of enthusiasm and addressed the group. “This won’t be easy. You all have to show up. You’ll have to earn that letter on your jacket this year. But I promise you, when you accomplish something that you believed to be beyond you, nothing has ever felt so fucking good in your life!”
The players all rose and erupted into cheers, their helmets pumping in the air. I was a god.
“Hey, Coach! This really doable? You not just blowing smoke up our ass?”
And, crash! My fall from Olympus was swift. Davis had some quality that had the other boys paying attention whenever he was around. Maybe because he was long legged and lightning fast; maybe because nobody knew exactly where he lived. But the group had gone quiet again, and was focused on me. Blake was still in conversation with the dads. No help there.
I scanned the crowd and let my eyes land on several of them for impact. “Look guys. This will be one of the hardest things you’ve ever done so far in your life, but in all honesty, it’s simple. You have to want it. You have to want it enough to go for a three-mile run on the days we don’t have practice.” A chorus of murmured huh and what the fuck?
“You have to work out instead of playing the latest video game. Bench presses and leg squats.” Groans. “You have to study the playbook instead of taking your girl out to the back of the lake.” From the back, a definite, “Oh, hell no. Count me out.”
“You have to give it your heart.”
Davis laughed as he stood before me. “Our heart, Coach?”
“Yeah, Davis. Your heart. It’s the glob taking up the empty space between your backbone and your breastbone. And it’s the only thing that’ll make you strong enough to get you through this.”
I dropped my lunch tray onto the
table and slunk into the seat across from Blake. “What the hell is up with that kid, Davis? I bet you could smell him on the other side of the field this morning? Damn, that kid’s rank.”
Blake didn’t even look up from the papers he was marking. “Leave him alone; he’s already got a mom. All those boys stink at practice.”
I shrugged and shoveled in a bite.
Blake waved his fork at me. “That was some speech this morning.”
Here it came. I’d been waiting for him to taunt me all day. It wasn’t like him to let such a ripe opportunity pass. “Yeah, okay. Bring it on.”
He lifted his eyes from the paper and spread his hands in an oh-so-innocent pose. “What’d I say?”
“You know you want to mock my words.”
“What? Your speech was inspirational. Motivating. Did you get a look at those fuckers’ faces? Boys that age are only ever that enraptured when they see real pussy.”
I speared my pasta and shoved it in my mouth. Blake laid down his pen and gave me a hard stare.
“Dude, I gotta say, I liked you better before that chick rolled into town.”
I was afraid I liked myself better before Dixie came around again, too. I looked up. “It’s her meeting.”
Blake still stared at me . . . as if he were trying to mine my brain. “Nope. ESP’s not working today. Gonna need a few more words.”
I shoved my tray away. One day I’d learn not to bother. “Dixie’s big fundraiser back in LA. The one she was working on while she was here?” Blake still wore a blank frown. I shook my head. “Never mind.”
“Dude, you’re twisting a gut about this. Quit being a girl and lay it out.” I shoveled another bite in my mouth to keep from saying anything too soon. When the food was mush and I couldn’t postpone any longer, I swallowed it with a gulp of milk from my tiny carton. Why was it so hard to say this out loud? I’d given presentations before. To large crowds. Of important people.
But never to Dixie.
Heart of Dixie (Moreover #1) Page 19