His cell phone rang. It was his friend Franco Corona. Franco was a retired baseball player who, at age forty-one, now made a living as a motivational speaker. Franco had immigrated with his parents to the United States from the Dominican Republic when he was seven years old. His parents had worked hard to keep a roof over the heads of their seven children. In high school Franco was a phenomenal catcher and received a scholarship to Nebraska before joining the New York Yankees’ AAA Scranton/Wilkes-Barre team. Eventually he was called up to the big leagues and subsequently became one of the Yankees’ best hitting catchers.
“Hey, Franco,” he said cheerfully. “How are you?”
“I’m good, buddy. How are you?”
“Okay for the most part.”
“Well, that’s not a ringing endorsement. What’s going on?”
“I’m on my way to meet with an editor about my book and I’m a little nervous.”
“Who are you meeting?”
“Abigail Carey. Have you heard of her?”
“Yes. She’s a real ball-buster.”
“What? How do you know her?”
“I don’t know her personally, but Javier Cantu does. She worked with him on his book.”
Javier Cantu was another retired baseball player who at the end of his career authored a tell-all book about the not-so-sunny side of America’s pastime. Not only did he reveal his infidelity and use of performance-enhancing drugs, he named others as well. His book had become a bestseller seven years earlier, but his name was still mud in Major League Baseball.
“From everything I’ve heard about her so far, his book doesn’t sound like one of her kind of projects.”
“It wasn’t. She worked for Stillwater Publishing at the time. Javier told me his nightmares still have a red hue.”
“If you’re trying to make me feel better, you’re failing miserably. She’s going to massacre me.”
“No, she won’t. The truth is, Javier got great reviews. Even he says that much of the credit should go to her. She took a guy who never paid attention to writing anything other than autographs and girls’ phone numbers and turned him into a credible author.”
“Now that sounds more reassuring.”
“Wait a minute. She left Stillwater right after Javier’s book was released. Is she working for Tandem now?”
“No. She’s in PR.”
“Then how did you get her to agree to edit your book?”
“She hasn’t agreed to work with me yet. I’m meeting her this morning so we can discuss the possibility of working together.”
“I see. Did Reggie set it up for you?”
“Yeah. As it turns out he and Abigail grew up together.” Sam looked out the window. “It looks like I’ve arrived at my destination. I’d better get going. Give me a buzz later.”
“Okay, pal. Take care.”
Sam got out of the car, walked up to the building’s entrance and pressed the buzzer.
“Carey and Collingsworth Agency, may I help you?”
“Sam Best here to see Ms. Abigail Carey. I have an appointment.”
There was a long pause.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” Sam asked anxiously.
“I apologize. Did you say Sam Best, as in the former quarterback for the New York Giants?”
“Yes.”
“Please come up to the second floor.”
The buzzer sounded.
Sam entered and walked down the hallway to the waiting elevator. He had a funny feeling as the elevator doors closed.
When the doors opened, Sam was overwhelmed by a throng of excited women.
Startled by the level of noise, Shana walked out of her office to investigate. “What in the world is going on out here?” Shana elbowed her way through staff and models until she reached Sam.
“Excuse me, ladies, get a hold of yourselves,” she said loudly.
The noise immediately died down.
She extended her hand. “Good morning, Mr. Best. I’m Shana Collingsworth. How can I help you?”
He shook her hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Collingsworth. Please call me Sam. I have a ten o’clock appointment with Abigail Carey.”
“Please call me Shana. Abby’s office is on the fourth floor.”
“Oh, I was told to come to the second floor.”
“Really? I can assure you that I will get to the bottom of that.” Shana shot an accusing look at her staff. “In the meantime, I’ll take you upstairs to Abby’s office. Please follow me.”
“Thank you.”
Shana pressed the button for the elevator and she and Sam stepped in. A few moments later they were walking through the book PR floor.
Kelly’s mouth dropped as Sam passed her desk. “Is that who I think it is?” she whispered to Candy.
“If you think it’s Sam Best, then you’re right.” She grinned.
Shana led Sam into Abby’s office, which was uncharacteristically empty at the moment. “Please have a seat. I’m sure Abby is around here somewhere.”
“That’s not a problem,” Sam said as he sat down.
“Can I get you anything while you’re waiting? Coffee, tea or a bottle of water?”
“No, thank you. I’m fine.”
“Okay, then I’d better get back downstairs. It was lovely meeting you, Sam.”
“Likewise.” He smiled.
After Shana left, Sam looked around Abby’s office. It was neat and well organized with an extensive collection of books and tastefully displayed awards. He even marveled at how comfortable her guest chairs were. For someone who is supposed to love putting people in the hot seat, these are cushy chairs. Just as he swiveled around to face the door, he noticed a woman heading his way. That can’t be her, he thought in disbelief.
“Abby, if you have a minute I need you to look at this,” Leo said.
“Sure.” She went over to Leo’s desk.
Oh, my God, that’s her. Sam stared at the way her dress hugged her curves. Reggie didn’t tell me she was hot. How am I supposed to concentrate on what she says? He felt his heart skip a beat. The woman’s a brick house. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that he was engaged.
A smiling Abby walked into the office. “Good morning, Mr. Best. I’m sorry if I kept you waiting.” She extended her hand.
Sam stood up to shake her hand. “You didn’t keep me waiting. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Carey.”
Abby sat down at her desk. “Please call me Abby.”
He sat down. “I will, as long as you call me Sam. Mr. Best is my father.”
“I hear you caused quite a commotion on the second floor.” She chuckled.
“Yes, it would seem so.”
“That’s probably old hat to you by now.”
“You would think so, but you never really get used to it.”
“You have a point. Before we start, can I get you anything to drink? Or would you like to wait until the rest arrive?”
Sam looked confused. “The rest of who arrive?”
“The rest of your people,” she answered matter-of-factly.
“You mean my entourage?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have an entourage, but I do have a driver. I could call him upstairs to join us if you’d like.”
“No.” She felt a little flush. “I’m sorry. I just assumed.”
“There’s no need to apologize. A lot of athletes fit that profile. I’m just not one of them.”
“That’s nice to know. So what about something to drink?”
“Water would be nice, thank you.”
She got up and went to the small fridge behind her desk. “Would you like sparkling, mineral or flat?” she said, slightly bent over.
Sam was distracted by her derriere. “Sure.”
“Which would you like?” she inquired again.
“Oh, sparking water would be fine.”
“Sparkling water it is.” Abby grabbed a cold bottle of Pellegrino and handed it to him. “Here you go.”
“Thank you.” Sam quickly gulped down half the bottle’s contents.
“First let me congratulate you on your deal with Tandem and your upcoming wedding,” she said as she sat down.
“Thanks.”
Abby leaned back in her chair. “So what are you writing about?”
“Oh, I thought Reggie would have filled you in.”
“Reggie’s not writing the book. You are.”
Suddenly the cushy seat didn’t feel so comfortable. “Well, it’s about my life, football, being in the NFL and the lessons I’ve learned along the way.”
Before Abby could respond, Sam’s text tone went off on his cell phone. “I’m sorry. I thought I set the silent mode.” Sam’s face flushed with embarrassment as he checked the message.
“That’s all right. Do you need a minute?”
“No. It’s just my fiancée texting me about something for the wedding, that’s all.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to respond to her now? It could be important. I can wait.”
“No, that’s okay.”
“Okay. Reggie told me the manuscript is due by Memorial Day weekend. How much have you written so far?”
“Forty pages,” he said somewhat sheepishly.
“You signed the contract with Tandem in August, right?”
Just as he opened his mouth to answer, Sam’s text tones went off again. “Excuse me, this will only take a second.” Sam put his phone on vibrate. “Yes. I signed the contract in August.”
“Then you played an entire season, announcing your retirement in January.”
“I don’t know what I was thinking. It seemed doable at the time.”
“It always does.” Abby smiled. “Did you bring what you have so far?”
“Yes.” As he took his portfolio out and placed the contents on Abby’s desk he felt his phone vibrating. He quickly hit ignore and sent it to voice mail.
Abby quickly leafed through the pages. “How long is the manuscript supposed to be? I mean, did they give you a word or page count?”
“I think the contract says 220 pages.” His cell phone vibrated again. “I’m so sorry. Maria knows I have this appointment.”
“It’s not a problem. Take the call. I can leave if you need privacy.”
“Please don’t leave. This will only take a minute.”
“All right.” She nodded. I doubt it will take only a minute. She figured that a defensive tackle didn’t have a thing on a woman with a wedding to plan. Given the tenacity his future wife had shown in the last ten minutes, she felt impressed that he’d managed to write forty pages.
Sam turned around in the chair and hit the talk button. “Yes, Maria?”
“Why haven’t you answered my texts or calls? Where are you?” she demanded.
“I’m in the editor’s office. She and I were talking about my manuscript.”
“You’re in her office now?”
“Don’t start, Maria. What’s so important?”
“Our planner just informed me that the linen supply may not have the tablecloths in our color. I need to know how you feel about peach.”
“I don’t feel anything about peach. Is that the reason you called?” he asked, incredulous.
“Yes. This is our wedding and I wanted your input.”
“I don’t know why this is an issue. The wedding is four months away.” He stopped himself. “If you’re fine with the color change, then I’m fine with it.”
“That’s not very helpful.”
“Why isn’t it? I just gave you carte blanche.”
“That’s just another way of saying you really don’t want to make any decisions about the biggest day of our lives. You’re more interested in getting me off the phone.”
“Maria, the manuscript is due before the wedding and I’m trying to make sure that I make the deadline so I’ll be free to focus on the wedding and us.”
“Since you put it that way, I’ll make the call. Just don’t be upset when you don’t see the original color we chose that day.”
“I won’t. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he muttered quickly and hung up. He turned around to face Abby. “Again, I beg your pardon for the interruption.”
“There’s no need to apologize. Is everything okay?”
“Yes. The crisis has been averted,” he said jokingly.
Abby laughed and then picked his forty pages up. “Okay, I’m going to give this a read and we can get together sometime tomorrow. Will that work for you?”
“Does this mean you’ll work with me?”
“Maybe,” she said slyly. “I’ll know more once I’ve read it.” Abby opened the appointment scheduler on her computer. “Does the morning or the afternoon work better for you?”
“Neither. I’m on wedding duty all day tomorrow.”
“What time is your first appointment?”
“Ten forty-five.”
“How about we make it an early breakfast meeting between seven and seven-thirty. Is that too early for you?”
“No.”
“Good. I’ll be in the office by then, so I can buzz you into the building. Remember to bring your outline, notebook and a list of any facts we might need to research, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Don’t you want to write this down? The first rule of working with an editor is to take notes.”
“Oh yeah. ” He searched his jacket, took out his memo pad and pen and jotted her instructions down.
“All right, then, I think we’re good,” Abby said as she stood up.
“I’m looking forward to your thoughts,” Sam said, coming to his feet.
“Good.” She walked him to the door. “I can have one of my publicists escort you downstairs just in case there are any stray models lurking about.”
“I think I can handle it.” He laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
They shook hands.
“You have a good day.” She grinned.
“Thanks. You, too,” he said as he walked away.
Abby watched him walk away. Cute but engaged. Besides, I learned my lesson with J. J. No more professional athletes. My psyche can’t take it.
“Hey, Abby, are we working the PR for Sam Best’s book?” Leo asked.
“No. He doesn’t need us to help him sell books. He could sell sand at the beach and people would line up.”
“That’s true. So can I ask why he was here?”
“Sure, you can ask.” Abby smiled, and then went back into her office.
***
Before Sam could settle in for the ride home, his cell phone rang. He knew who it was without looking.
“Hi, Reggie,” he answered pleasantly.
“Hi. How did it go with Abby?”
“What? No how are you?”
“Don’t be a wise guy.”
Sam laughed. “I think it went pretty well. We have a breakfast meeting tomorrow to go over my forty pages.”
“Great.”
“You know, I have a bone to pick with you.”
“You have a bone to pick with me? What did I do?”
“It’s what you didn’t do. You didn’t tell me how pretty Abby Carey is.”
“Pardon me?”
“I think you heard me. I was expecting a librarian with glasses or something. I wasn’t prepared.”
“To be honest, Sam, it never dawned on me to mention her looks. You’re getting married in four months.”
“I know, but I’m not dead. You could have warned me.”
“There are millions of pretty women in New York City. If I had to warn you every time one was about to cross your path, I’d have to give up my day job.”
“You’re right. Forget I said anything. Besides, she seems to be a bit of a pill.”
“Abby’s ways can be hard to swallow.”
“Hard to swallow is an understatement. She gave me homework.”
“That sounds like
my Abby.” Reggie laughed.
“What did you get me into, Reggie?”
“Stop your kvetching. It’s nothing you can’t handle.”
“Speaking of handling things, I’m on my way home to see if indeed the latest wedding crisis has been averted.”
“I’m not going to ask.”
“You’re a smart man.”
“I’m going to be busy with meetings all the rest of the day. Let me know what happens with Abby tomorrow.”
“I will.”
“Talk to you later, buddy.”
“See you later, Reggie.”
Sam stared out of the window, unable to get the image of Abby out of his head. Then he snapped back to reality. I better pull it together before I get home. This is work and nothing more. Anxious to get his head on straight he picked up his phone and keyed in numbers.
“Come on, Dad, pick up,” he said aloud.
It went to voice mail. He hung up and tried another number.
“Hello?”
“Hey, J.R.,” he said.
“Hello, little brother. What’s going on?”
J.R. was the oldest of the Best brothers, and named after their father. Everyone called him J.R. Tall and broad shouldered with dark brown hair and piercing blue eyes, he was the spitting image of Don Best. J.R. had played minor league baseball for the farm teams of several major clubs. However, after a little more than a decade, baseball lost its appeal and he became an insurance agent. Within two years he was able to open his own successful agency.
“I’m on my way home to deal with more wedding stuff.”
“What else can you do for this wedding? Even the circus stops at three rings.” J.R. laughed.
“You are too funny,” Sam said facetiously.
“I’m sorry, Sam. I know you’re under a lot of pressure these days.”
“I take it you’ve talked to Dad.”
“Yes. He told me about the book and all the wedding details.”
“By the way, where are Dad and Momma? I tried calling his cell earlier and it went to voice mail.”
“They took Daisy out for breakfast in town. I think he left his phone in the kitchen.”
“Oh, I bet they’re in heaven.”
“All three of them are. Daisy loves when Gramps and Grandma come to visit.”
“Was Tammy able to make any more room in the closet?”
I Take This Woman Page 5