Not Just a Player

by Lana Baker

  I round on him. “Who are you? And why are you here?”

  He smiles at me and I get the creeps. Maybe it’s the hangover, but there’s something seriously off about this dude even if I can’t pinpoint exactly what it is. Or maybe I’m just jealous that—unlike me—he’s somebody Rose actually wants to speak to.

  He looks at Charlie, who nods.

  “I’m Jackson Carter. I’m a public relations expert who’s done a lot of work for the Grizzlies.”

  “Good for you, man.”

  “Jake! Can it, would you? Jackson, go on. Tell him the plan.”

  “The plan?” I repeat.

  The guy nods.

  My first impression was right because the more I look at him, the more I get the sense that this guy would do anything so long as it makes him look good.

  “Jake, this right here.” He points to the newspaper. “Is a big problem.”

  I roll my eyes. “Nobody reads that trash.”

  “They’ve got a circulation of a hundred thousand,” he says, staring into my eyes.

  “Maybe they use it as toilet paper,” I snort.

  But nobody else laughs. They don’t even crack a smile.

  “Believe it or not, a lot of people not only read what’s in the papers, but they believe it. That’s why people like me have long, successful careers. This is my business, Jake. I’m the best there is and I’m gonna work with you to rehabilitate your reputation.”

  Something tells me this is a lot more serious than kissing babies and helping old ladies to cross the street.

  He looks at Coach and Charlie before his beady eyes settle on me. “Here’s what we’re going to do first.”

  Chapter Nine

  Rose

  I laugh. I know it’s a strange reaction, but I can’t help it. Marcus looks at me as if he’s waiting for an explanation. It only makes me laugh harder. It all seems so ridiculous. They don’t know what happened. Except they must. From the look on Marcus’s face, it’s like I’ve tried to set the entire hotel building alight.

  “Marcus,” I whisper when I’ve managed to calm down. “This is crazy. The guest called me. He asked for my help in choosing a floral arrangement for his girlfriend.”

  “And you couldn’t offer that help over the phone?”

  I shake my head. “He asked me to come up and help him.”

  Marcus sighs gravely. “So you pretended to go to the bathroom. You went downstairs to the staff area and took the penthouse elevator from the basement. When you could have just walked across the lobby?”

  I stare down at my hands. When he puts it like that, it makes me sound guilty as hell.

  “I… Luca was pissed at me because he felt like I was stealing his guest. I didn’t want to make it more awkward.”

  “Oh please, Rose.”

  I turn and glare at Luca. “It’s true. You’ve been sighing and tutting all week. It’s not my fault the guy keeps asking to speak to me.”

  Marcus rubs his jaw. “And why is that, Rose? Why ask for your help instead of Luca’s?”

  I feel my cheeks redden. “I don’t know. He said he wanted a female opinion. Last I checked, Luca wasn’t female. Although he’s certainly got a bitchy side.”

  Dead. Silence.

  Hey I’m sorry, but I can only put up with so much before I snap.

  Marcus’s next words knock me for six.

  “I don’t think you realize the seriousness of your actions.”

  “The seriousness? A guest asked me to go to his room to help with something.”

  Luca clicks his tongue and I seriously want to lunge for him.

  Marcus shakes his head. “I’d understand that—if you’d just walked across the lobby. Why act as if there was something to hide?”

  I open my mouth to respond. For once I’m lost for words. “I… I don’t know,” I shrug. “I guess I didn’t want Luca scrutinizing me. Not that secrecy helped.”

  I laugh, but it quickly evaporates when nobody else does.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m not trying to make light of this. But it’s nothing. This is all just a big misunderstanding.”

  Marcus shakes his head. “You know, I don’t know what sort of establishment you worked at before.”

  Now I’m confused. “I’ve worked here since I was seventeen, Marcus. I haven’t worked anywhere else—you know that.”

  He seems not to have heard me.

  “Marcus? What’s going on?”

  But he just sighs and shakes his head, like a disappointed parent when their kid has just run off the stage at the school play.

  “Rose, I must say I’m disappointed.”

  “Um, excuse me?”

  “I know this kind of thing is widespread, but never once did I expect it to happen right here under my nose.”

  “Marcus, what’re you talking about?”

  If I seem alarmed, that’s because I am. It sounds like he’s uncovered something serious. It has nothing to do with me, but I can’t get away from the fact that I’m the one sitting here in this office. The front office of the hotel that’s the only thing standing between me and the poverty line.

  “Marcus,” I say quickly. “I don’t know what this is, but whatever you’re thinking, I’m not involved. I promise you. Fine. Against my better judgment, Mr. Thorne and I had a little bit of a flirtation. But that’s it. It’s never happened before. And it’s not like I instigated it. I—”

  “Rose,” Marcus says, shaking his head. “Stop. Please.” He holds up a pudgy hand. “Do you take me for a fool?”

  No, you’ve managed to play the owners pretty well by pretending you’re in any way competent. Meanwhile, you sit here and watch porn all day every day. “No, of course not,” I gasp. Oh hell, I don’t care that I’m lying and showing a bad example to Sam. If this is a lie that lets me pay my rent and the small amount I put aside each week, then color me a liar. “Marcus, I don’t know what’s going on. All I did was do what a guest asked of me. I thought we were all about customer service here.”

  Luca snorts. If I wasn’t so panicked and desperate, I’d snort right back and ask him why he doesn’t like the smell of his own bullshit.

  But I am panicked and desperate. This has quickly escalated from a weird conversation to a job-on-the-line catastrophe.

  “There’s no crime in responding to a guest request,” I plead.

  “There is when it’s illegal in most states,” Luca says snidely before quickly shutting up thanks to a filthy look from Marcus.

  “Um, excuse me?” My mind races. I don’t know what I expected from this, but I didn’t foresee an ambush. It’s not like I can afford an attorney, but I also can’t afford to lose my paycheck. I try and stay calm, calling up all the memories I can of Van’s disputes with clients. Oh god, I wish I had her with me—unlike me, she’s got the words to back up her bravado, and that’s something I desperately need. “Marcus, I’d appreciate it if you could be clear about what I’m being accused of. And what the consequences are.”

  Luca lets out a puff of air as if my request has affronted his delicate manners. I can’t even look at him—the man acts as if he was born in Victorian England when we’ve all heard the rumors that he had some kind of shady past before he wound up working at the Greenboro Court.

  But it’s not Luca that delivers the blow. Marcus shuffles some papers on the desk. He clears his throat. “Rose, I won’t tolerate solicitation in my hotel.”

  My mouth falls open. It’s worse than I could have imagined. Marcus; the guy I’ve worked for since I was a kid; he thinks I’m a hooker?

  “Excuse me?” I gasp.

  He won’t meet my eyes.

  “Marcus,” I say in a panic. “You can’t be serious. What on earth are you talking about? Have you spoken to Mr. Thorne?”

  Marcus shakes his head and looks at me like I’m a simpleton. “Really, Ms. Allen. You should know better than to think we’d approach a guest in such a delicate matter.”

  I want to scream; to p
rotest. I can’t even begin to count the number of times I’ve been working the night shift and seen Luca discreetly give the nod to the night security guard to allow a cluster of hookers entry to our hallowed hotel.

  And now this?

  I turn to him, feeling miserable that I can’t bring up his hypocrisy—I know I can’t, because if I did it would only look like I was trying to justify myself.

  “It’s not true, Marcus,” I say as calmly as I can, even though I can feel the tears begin to sting my eyes. “You have to believe me. This is crazy!”

  But he just shakes his head.

  And that makes me freak out even more.

  “Rose I’m afraid—”

  “No. Wait. You can’t do this. I want to speak to an attorney.”

  “Rose this isn’t a court of law. You have a casual contract and your services are no longer required.”

  “But you can’t. I… I…”

  I stare into Marcus’s eyes. There’s nothing there. No need to do the same to Luca—he’s been practically whooping ever since I entered the room. He knew what was coming.

  “Marcus,” I say as calmly as I can. “Surely you realize how bad this is going to look. You’re terminating a single mother based on the word of one guy. You’ve got no proof.”

  We face off across the table. Hope flutters inside me when I see him falter, but then it vanishes again as quickly as it formed.

  “Don’t threaten me, Rose.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not threatening you. I’m trying to make you see reason.”

  “I’m well within my rights—”

  “You’re firing me with no justification.”

  “You have a casual contract.”

  “So does Geri. And I don’t see you firing her.”

  He flushes. “I haven’t caught Geri soliciting clients for sex.”

  “You haven’t caught me doing that either,” I hiss. I want to stand up and walk out; to tell them to go fuck themselves. But I have more to think of than just me. I may not be willing to beg, but I’m willing to suppress my temper and act as meek as a pet dog in order to keep my job.

  “Rose. This is final. I hope you understand.”

  “You’ll be hearing from my attorney,” I snarl.

  Marcus has the decency to pretend to look intimidated. We all—all of us in this room—know that I can barely afford food, let alone an attorney. And that’s even truer now than ever.

  “You hear me? You can’t just fire me based on some crazy accusation Luca just made up on the fly.”

  Marcus shakes his head.

  “I’ve worked here for seven years. Name one time I didn’t work a double shift when I was asked to.”

  “Rose.”

  “No, go on. And this is crazy. You’ve got no proof.”

  Okay, okay. I know I said I wouldn’t beg. But I’m beginning to realize the implications of this. “I’m not a hooker. If I was, you’d have tons of evidence of me sneaking into guest rooms.”

  “We don’t need tons,” smirks Luca. “We’ve got this one.”

  “What’s this got to do with you, Luca? Huh?” I turn and look pleadingly at Marcus. “Please. Don’t listen to him. I don’t know why he’s trying to feed you this bullshit, but it’s not true.”

  Marcus shrugs. “I saw the tape.”

  “So?” I’m getting tired of this. It’s like I woke up in an alternate universe this morning because none of it is making sense. Me? A hooker? I’m pretty sure there are nuns out there who see more action than I do. “It means nothing. I work here. What am I supposed to do if a guest calls and asks me to come to their room? Refuse on the basis that it might be damaging to my virtue? This isn’t the 1800s.”

  “Rose,” Marcus says as if he’s at the end of his tether; as if I’m the one trying his patience instead of the other way around. “There’s no sense in discussing this anymore. We’re going around in circles. Now, you can walk out of here of your own accord, or I’ll be forced to call security. And I don’t want to do that, but you’re not leaving me with any other choice.”

  I balk. This is really happening. Nobody’s about to jump out from behind the filing cabinet and yell ‘surprise!’

  “Okay. I’ll go get my things from the staff room.”

  Marcus holds a hand up. “We’ll have them sent to you.”

  “I can just go get my stuff now,” I say, trying to keep my expression neutral.

  “It’s procedure,” he shrugs.

  I want to shake him. I remember hearing about that policy before. They do that so the person they’ve just fired can’t go and get revenge by planting microgreen seeds in the carpet or shoving raw fish behind the lockers.

  “I barely have time to wash my hair, let alone double up as a hooker and a corporate saboteur.” I stand and face them down. There’s so much I want to say but I tell myself to rise above it.

  I turn and walk to the door.

  If it was just me, I’d have spun around and called out Marcus’s ill-fitting toupee. I’d have pointed out Luca’s crooked kickback tactics.

  But it’s not just me; it hasn’t been for a long time. So I bite my tongue.

  Chapter Ten

  Jake

  I blink at him. Is it my ears? Is there something wrong with my hearing? Because that’s the only explanation for this. I stick a finger in each ear and rub. Doesn’t feel any different.

  “Excuse me?” I say before turning to Coach Fox and Charlie. “Did you guys hear that? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “No,” Jackson says, looking non-plussed by the interruption. “No, I’m not kidding. Would you like me to take you through it again?”

  I wave my hands in the air and squeeze my eyes shut. My hangover’s just got a whole lot worse. “No. Fuck. I understood what you said just fine. It’s the… the… are you on crack? Is that it?”

  “The only one in this office who’s under the influence of drugs is you, Jake. I can smell the alcohol from here. If I struck a match in here I have no doubt you’d go up in flames.”

  “Everybody was drinking last night, Charlie,” I hiss between my teeth.

  This is unbelievable. Un-fucking-believable.

  “Coach, are you hearing this bullshit?”

  He shrugs. “Jackson took us through the plan earlier, yes. Under the circumstances, I agree it’s the best approach. I believe Charlie does too.”

  Charlie nods. “Yes.”

  I stare at them. After Denny and the team, these are the guys I spend most of my time with. I looked up to them—they were the greats when I was a kid practicing in the back yard.

  “This is bullshit. You think my life is some sort of game? That I’m a puppet you own and control?”

  “There’s a morality clause in your contract, Jake,” Charlie says in a business-like way, as if we’re talking about the price of mugs at the merchandise stands. Not my fucking life.

  “But…”

  “This isn’t a debate, Jake. You don’t have a choice. Do it and you go some way to repairing your reputation with this team. Don’t? Well, we’ll have no choice but to drop you.”

  This cannot be happening. It can’t.

  This guy Jackson’s genius solution? This plan they’re all so enthusiastic about? I just can’t even begin to…

  “If you think I’m going to marry some fake titted bimbo and play happy families…”

  Coach paces to the window and looks out onto the training fields. “Jake, we’ve given you a choice. We’ve been sitting in Charlie’s office ever since I got the call from Mike Vickers, who saw the paper on a newsstand in the airport.”

  I groan.

  “Yeah. I know. He’s pissed. First the bankruptcy threats and now this. He asked me if you were worth it.”

  This can’t be happening. It can’t. Yesterday I thought I had problems, but I had no idea. This is ten times worse. A hundred times worse.

  “You’re serious about this,” I murmur. “Like you’ll drop me if I don’t play along?” />
  Coach nods.

  “But you’ve seen how well me and Denny work together.”

  “The strength is in the team, kid. None of you guys are irreplaceable. Don’t ever forget that. Maybe that’s why you thought you could go out there in front of those cameras and embarrass us all.”

  “Cameras? We were in the VIP room. They don’t allow cameras. Somebody must have taken it on their phone.”

  Charlie rubs his face. “Jake, you weren’t in the VIP room. The account I heard had you picking her up and rushing out of there and down the stairs into the club. It took five security guards to take you down. Not soon enough.”

  “I was just kidding around. I guess.” I have no memory of this—it’s weird having to defend something that I can’t even remember doing.

  “You’re lucky she didn’t press charges. You could have dropped her down those stairs. What would have happened then? We’d have a civil suit on our hands—more Jake Thorne legal problems.”

  “Look,” Jackson says loudly, clearing his throat and smoothing down the front of his gray suit. “There’s no sense in getting worked up about this. It could have been a lot worse. But you know me.” He looks at Coach and Charlie. “You’ve seen me turn situations like this around in the past.”

  I wonder what he’s talking about. One of the other players? I’ve never met the guy before, yet it’s clear that Coach and Charlie have faith in his off-the-wall plan.

  “Trust me, Jake,” he says turning to me and flashing me a smile I think is supposed to be reassuring. “Look. This is what we’ll do. We’ll let this die down. Over the next couple of weeks, we’ll leak details of your visits to sick children to the press, then we’ll ramp—”

  I wince. “It’s not a publicity stunt. That’s not what that’s about.”

  Jackson shakes his head. “I’m sure it’s not. Good on you. Very noble. Look, it’s gonna work in your favor. It’ll be obvious to the press that you’re not just turning up for the photo call. You actually know some of these kids, I take it?”

  “That wasn’t the point I was trying to make. I don’t want to turn this into a media circus. It’s not about me. It’s about—”