Play Action Pass

by Gina Ardito

  “First,” Cam said, “I want to apologize for barging in on you on Friday night.”

  Val’s head shot up, and her eyes went wide. “You didn’t. Honest. When you called, I thought it would be fun, you know? I mean, when we’re on these trips like Atlanta, we spend so much time working, we both usually just order room service alone in the hotel at night and crash ‘til the next day when we do it all again. Then on the plane home, you always wind up working on... whatever you need to work on, and this time around, I was putting together the prizes for the next fundraiser, so we didn’t talk at all. Friday night, when I said let’s have a pajama party, I was kidding at first. I mean, I thought you were kidding about coming over. Then, when I realized you were serious and why, I thought, ‘Why not?’ It could be a blast. I really wanted us to have a chance to let our guards down and just be friends. I’m sorry I fell asleep, but it wasn’t because I didn’t want you there.”

  She’d forgotten how Val could ramble. “Let me finish, please.”

  Val ducked her head again. “Sorry.”

  “There’s no reason to apologize. I’m the one who’s sorry. I intruded on your plans for a quiet evening. But that’s not why you’re here.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No, it’s not. Val, you’ve been doing great work here, and I’ve come to rely on you more than you probably realize—more than I sometimes realize. The acquisition of the Loughlin building is primarily due to your dedication to that project. You’re a valuable asset to the foundation and to me. Therefore, I’m prepared to promote you. You’ll no longer be my executive assistant. As of this morning, you are the assistant director. You’ll be getting an increase in your salary commensurate with your new title.” She scribbled the number on a yellow sticky note and slid it forward.

  Val’s eyes went wide as she looked at the salary written on the paper and then up at Cam. “Is this for real?”

  Cam nodded. “I’ll be passing more of the day to day work to you from now on, so I hope you’re ready to take on more responsibility. Casey will take your place as my executive assistant, and you and I will be hiring you an assistant, also. I’ll need you to spend a week or two training Casey to get him up and running, but we’ll use that time to familiarize you with some of what you’ll be taking on, as well as getting your office set up.”

  Now, her head came up level and stayed there. Pride and excitement gave her the confidence to sit up straight and look Cam in the eye. “I’m getting an office?”

  “Yes. Right next to this one. Does that mean you’d like to accept the offer?”

  “Are you kidding? Yes! I mean, this is amazing. Thank you! I can’t—” She giggled. “I thought for sure I was getting fired today. I even brought in a box to take my stuff home in.”

  “Well, now you can use that box to move your stuff into your new office. But before you do that...” She sobered and handed Val the typed-up offer she’d printed earlier this morning. “I’m going to be relying on you for a lot. You’ll be well compensated, but there’ll be nights you won’t get out of here until eight or nine o’clock. Or you’ll have to make last minute changes to a print order or the website over the weekend. Be sure to read this over carefully. Take it to an attorney. Don’t use the foundation’s legal reps. Get an outside opinion from someone with your best interests in mind. We’ll make it all official once you’ve had some time to have this reviewed and bring it back to me signed. Until then, we’ll continue on as we have for a while. Okay? Sound good?”

  “Are you kidding? It sounds great! Ohmigod, I’m stunned. I really don’t know what to say except thank you.”

  Cam smiled. “Thank you is enough. Now, tuck that agreement into your purse for later, and let’s get back to work. I want you to check in on Atlanta, see how the school supply event went. From eleven to about two, I’ll be out of the box. You can use those few hours to grab lunch for yourself and start shopping for a lawyer to review that paperwork. Have the fee billed here. This afternoon, we’ll go over the details for the Loughlin acquisition. I want you in on all the meetings and conference calls from now on.”

  Val’s jaw dropped. “You sure?”

  “I’m sure. This is your baby. You should be there for delivery. Besides, I can’t think of anything better than working side by side with a good friend.”

  A beaming grin lit up Val’s face. “Wow. Ditto. Thanks, Cam. This means a lot to me.”

  “Me, too.”

  ONCE BACK IN THE OFFICE, Jordan wasted no time in asking Susan to make time for him on her calendar. He then waited until Thursday to actually meet with her. While he would’ve preferred to get it over with faster, like ripping off a Band-Aid, he used the days in between to argue with himself over what he’d say that wouldn’t result in her ousting him from her office and the company.

  When he finally entered her inner sanctum that afternoon, she got right to the point.

  “What can I do for you, Jordan? Not a problem with the Delgado deal, I hope.” She stood, leaning a hip against the edge of her desk, her navy blazer draped over her shoulders and her fists planted on her slim hips, the ultimate power pose.

  Hell, if there were a problem with the Delgado deal, with her connections, she’d know before he did. He wouldn’t have a clue ‘til she sliced his head from his shoulders.

  Still, he played along. “All systems go there. No, this is more of a... personal matter.”

  She nodded. “Right. The supermarket site on 57th.”

  He goggled at her. “How’d you know?”

  Her lips twisted into a smirk. “Do you honestly think anything goes on in this office I’m not privy to?”

  Apparently not. “So, what do you think?”

  The smirk became a crocodile smile: predatory and dangerous. “What do you think?”

  Tread carefully.

  He chose his words with purpose, exactly as he’d rehearsed them for the last two days. “I’d like to pursue the possibility of acquiring it. I won’t know if I’m definitely interested until I contact the selling agent and discuss some of the site’s details. I’ll need specs, particularly of the interior layout. It’s a bigger space, which allows for more possibilities for what we want to do, but possibilities becoming realities will depend on a lot of X factors. Right now, Marcus and I’ve only checked out the exterior. Who can say if it’s going to be the right property for us until we’ve done our homework?”

  She folded her arms over her chest, her posture deceptively languid. “You haven’t contacted the agent yet?”

  “No.”

  “But you know who the agent is?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you still have the gall to come to me.”

  He held up a hand to stem the tide of vipers or locusts she planned to send his way. “I won’t do anything unless you’re okay with my doing business with that particular firm.”

  He didn’t have to say the name; they both understood the identity of the agent and why there was an issue. Why rub salt into Susan’s open wound?

  “But before you say no or threaten to toss me off the GW Bridge for daring to even ask, I thought you might want to consider representing my and my partner’s interests in the transaction.”

  The first crack in her veneer appeared. Her eyes widened just a bit, then narrowed again. “Why? You’re quite capable of representing yourself.”

  “That’s true. But then, you wouldn’t get the lion’s share of the commission or the opportunity to show your ex-partner that you’re still at the top of your game.”

  Her posture relaxed, and she whipped the blazer off her shoulders, tossing it onto the seat of her chair. “You know, should you decide to pursue this, I’m going to low ball the crap out of her. I will cut her into a thousand pieces and bury her in paperwork. It could be months before this deal is done.”

  He shrugged with nonchalance. “I figured as much.”

  With her hands now clutching the edges of her desk, she leaned forward at the waist. “Your par
tner’s okay with you wasting valuable time to entertain me?”

  “He’s allowing me to run this deal as I see fit.”

  “And you see fit to let me play in your sandbox so I can get some misguided revenge.” He nodded. “Why?”

  “Because we all have to face our demons at one point. You made me face mine by pushing me to handle the Delgado deal. I thought I wasn’t ready. I kept telling myself I’d face Cam when I was as successful as she is. Without your prodding, I’m not sure I would’ve ever been ready. Because the truth is, I might never be as successful as she is—at least, not in the business world. In my personal life, I’ve conquered mountains most people don’t dare climb. That makes me successful in my own right.”

  He pointed at her. “You gave me back my self-confidence to see myself as Cam’s equal—not because of the money in my bank account, but because after all life threw at me, I’m still standing.” He glanced down at himself in the chair. “Figuratively speaking, of course. Now I’m going to give you the opportunity to face your demon. If you want it.”

  “Oh, I want it. But you already knew I would, didn’t you?”

  “If I say yes, will that get you onboard faster?”

  Her laughter scraped his spine. The last thing he’d ever want is to make this woman an enemy. She was a much better ally anyway.

  “I’m onboard, regardless. Now I know how you got Cam Delgado on your side. You take no prisoners. I’m impressed.”

  Good thing Cam wasn’t around to hear that praise. He doubted she’d agree. Funny. He hadn’t considered how much facing her and putting this deal together had meant to his well-being until he’d verbalized it for his boss. But he meant every word he said.

  Cam hadn’t been his demon after all. The dragon he’d been forced to slay was his own stubborn pride.

  Chapter 12

  Two weeks later, Cam looked around from the head of the table in the foundation’s larger conference room. Val sat to her immediate right in her first official task as assistant director, flanked by the foundation’s team of lawyers and financial officers. They all, even Val, wore expressions of cool confidence. All except Cam.

  Despite her simple emerald silk tee and white linen slacks, she couldn’t get comfortable and squirmed in her seat, seeking a position that would ease the tension building up inside her. A wave of heat bathed her skin, leaving a light sheen of sweat to bead her pounding forehead. Her insides tumbled in freefall. Her symptoms didn’t come from any lack of air conditioning or a fever. Nor was she nervous about the transaction. No, her discomfort came from the presence of one man.

  Jordan sat with his legal representatives to her left. She hadn’t seen him since that night at Brady’s Place, the night he’d kissed her. A tingle lingered on her lips whenever she recalled that moment.

  God help her, she still loved him. Would always love him. She wouldn’t tell him, couldn’t humiliate herself to bear his laughter when he told her he’d lost interest in her years ago.

  Closing off her misery behind her walls of business senses, she faced him with a steady gaze. He stared back, unblinking, and yet, unsure. Maybe that kiss hadn’t affected him as much as it did her, or maybe he experienced some small whisper of remorse at how their relationship had imploded. God knew, she felt it.

  With all the details hammered out at last, she picked up the gold fountain pen her father always used to sign his contracts and put the nib to the first line requiring her authorization. She’d just started the arc in C when the interoffice unit buzzed.

  “Cam?” Casey’s uncertain voice broke into the silence of the boardroom. “Sorry to interrupt. I got an emergency call from the stadium. Something’s happened to Bertie. He’s been taken to Regional Hospital.”

  The pen fell from her fingers with a clatter as she shot to her feet. Panic coursed through her veins, tightened her chest, and stole her breath, but she didn’t stop her forward momentum. From behind her fleeing figure, she heard Val announce into the speaker with crisp efficiency, “Casey, have someone bring a car out front.”

  “Already done,” Casey replied. “Larry’s waiting downstairs.”

  A high-pitched buzz blaring in Cam’s head drowned out anything else said in the conference room. She pushed out the door and raced past the elevator to the stairs. Later, when asked, she wouldn’t recall how she made it down the dozen flights, out to the street, or anything she said to her driver before he opened the door again in front of the hospital’s entrance. Minor details became a blur. All that mattered was reaching Bertie.

  Once inside the emergency room, she barely took in the groupings of people seated around the waiting area. She raced straight to the reception desk where a dark-haired nurse sat at a desk behind a wall of Plexiglas. When the nurse didn’t look up right away at her approach, Cam used her fingernail to tap on the barrier.

  With an annoyed expression on her face, the nurse slid the window to one side. “Can I help you?”

  “Bertie—Albert Wallace,” she told the woman through gasps for breath. “He came in by ambulance a while ago.”

  “Are you family?”

  “I’m his daughter,” she replied.

  The nurse turned to her computer and entered in some information, then looked up at Cam again. “Your name?”

  “Cameron. Cameron Delgado.”

  She pointed to the waiting room with its clusters of strangers. “Have a seat. Dr. Ferrone will be out in a few minutes.”

  Cam gripped the counter in front of her. “How is he? Can I see him?”

  “Have a seat, please.” Scriiiiitch! She slid the window closed again.

  With no other choice, Cam walked to a row of chairs and perched on the edge of the closest seat to the double-doors that read Authorized Personnel Only. Her legs shook, her heartbeat thundered in her ears, and a hitch in her throat made her breathing ragged. What had happened to Bertie? An injury on the field? An injury like Jordan’s? Couldn’t be. Bertie was a coach. The much-younger players took the hits and did the work these days. He just yelled a lot and blew a whistle. And sometimes got in the way because he was stubborn and thought he knew best.

  Oh, God. What if he was really hurt? She straightened her spine. Well, then, she’d take care of him. Just like she would’ve done with Jordan if he’d wanted. Because that was what you did for the people you loved.

  She glanced at the clock above the nurse’s head behind that stupid window.

  4:54 pm.

  How long would she have to wait before she could see him? Where was he? Was he in surgery? Were they running tests? Would he be staying overnight? Longer?

  The doors remained closed. No answers came.

  Around her, other people looked at their phones while they waited on these uncomfortable hard chairs. She couldn’t be bothered to pull her phone out of her purse. Why would she? She didn’t want to see the text messages from coworkers asking for details she didn’t have yet. Another glance at the clock.

  4:54 pm.

  Aaaargh! How could that be? She’d been sitting here forever already! Was the clock broken? Maybe that was why everyone stared at their phones. To keep track of the time. She twisted her fingers round and round, tried to watch the television mounted in the corner of the room, turned to local news. Nothing penetrated her brain. She dared another glance at the clock.

  4:55 pm.

  Oh, come on! This was ridiculous.

  At last, the doors hissed open, and a man in scrubs strode out, stopping at the nurse’s window. She skooched until more of her bottom was off the chair’s edge than on. The two spoke, the side wall barring Cam from seeing the doctor’s expression or reading his lips. Not that she could read lips. The man left the nurse’s area. Cam’s breath caught. He walked back through the double doors. Cam deflated.

  4:59 pm.

  This was excruciating!

  The nurse slid her window open again. Cam shot up. “Blankenship?” A man and a woman with a toddler on her hip rose from their chairs and headed forwar
d. “You can go on back to Exam Room Three.”

  With a sharp buzz, the doors opened, and the family disappeared into the inner sanctum.

  5:06 pm.

  The doors swished open again, and this time a woman in scrubs came out, calling “Wallace?”

  For a minute, Cam didn’t move, but then her brain kicked in and she realized the woman was referring to Bertie. She shot up, her arm straight in the air. “Here!”

  She sped forward, and the woman escorted her through the double doors, but stopped once they were inside a vast room separated by curtained areas with numbered signs hanging from the ceiling.

  The noise, the smells, the frenetic activity swirled around her, but she kept her focus on the woman speaking.

  “Ms. Delgado, I’m sorry to have to tell you this. Mr. Wallace suffered a massive heart attack on the field at Vanguard Stadium. He died before medical personnel could arrive and resuscitate him.”

  She listened to this stranger’s empty condolences, numb with grief. I’m very sorry. It was sudden and quick. I can assure you, he felt little to no pain.

  Really? How could Dr. Whoever know that? Did Bertie die with a big grin on his face? Were his last words, “Hey, you know what? This isn’t half bad.”? She clamped her jaws around the retort and reined in her temper with effort. Blasting this poor doctor or nurse or clerk or whoever she was for having to deliver the news to her would help no one.

  “Can I see him?” she asked instead.

  With a solemn nod, the woman led her past the emergency area and into a private room where the shell of Albert “Bertie” Wallace lay, growing colder and more ashen as time elapsed.

  He was gone.

  She didn’t have to touch him to know that the dynamo in perpetual motion, the bear of a man who had bolstered her through some of her darkest days, no longer existed in this realm. She bent to place her head against his chest. The heartbeat that used to thrum like a lullaby made no sound. She lifted his hand to kiss it and stifled a shiver at the waxy cold feel of his flesh against her lips.