The All-Star Antes Up
Page 11
Shock silenced Trevor for a moment. He stared at Luke with his mouth opening and closing before he said, “You could have any woman you want.”
He’d had a lot of women he’d thought he wanted.
Thirty minutes later, Luke faced Head Coach Junius Farrell across his huge oak-and-chrome desk. “With all due respect, Junius, I think we should keep the play as is. We can change it up for next year after we have time to work on it in training camp. But reconfiguring it in midseason is going to cause a lot of confusion on the field.”
He’d been through this with the coach before. It was Junius’s first time as a head coach, and he wanted to put his stamp on the Empire, so he kept trying to fix things that weren’t broken. As the veteran quarterback, Luke got the job of running interference to keep the new coach from screwing up the current season. That’s why he was at the Empire Center on a Tuesday when every other player had the day off.
“But if we run the pick, it would free up Marshall,” Junius said, jabbing his finger against his desk authoritatively.
“You’re right,” Luke said. “But it’s tricky and we haven’t had time to practice it often enough. If we try to run it this week, we’ll have the guys tripping over each other at the forty. How about using it against the Colts?”
That game was in three weeks. By then, the offensive line could probably learn the new scheme well enough not to screw it up completely. In addition, it would work better against the Colts than either the Cardinals or the Buccaneers.
“I’ll consider it.” Junius swiveled to face his computer screen and clicked on his mouse a couple of times. He wasn’t a bad guy. He just didn’t realize he’d taken over an organization that had the talent and momentum to carry him to the Super Bowl if he’d get out of the way.
As long as Luke’s shoulder held out. He had to stop himself from rubbing at the phantom pain that had appeared out of nowhere and disappeared just as fast. No one knew why he’d thrown that interception, and he wanted to keep it that way.
They discussed some personnel changes and some strategies for Sunday’s game before Junius thanked Luke for coming and let him go.
Luke walked down the carpeted hallway. It wasn’t empty, because the massive moneymaking machine that was an NFL football team ran at full speed from the beginning of training camp until the team’s last game—and then some. But the office staff members were smaller than the players, so they didn’t take up as much room in the corridor. Luke nodded to a couple of the PR people he passed. He didn’t envy them their jobs. There was always some problem that had to be hushed up. Or spun for the press, if it couldn’t be squelched.
Luke hoped that Trevor’s little incident wouldn’t end up on their radar. It was pretty tame—a nonevent, in fact—but Luke’s image had been scrubbed clean because it was less distracting that way. However, the press would love to have some dirt sticking to him. He got it: scandal sold papers and drew viewers. He just didn’t want to answer questions about anything other than the game.
His head was throbbing again. Damn Gavin Miller anyway. He’d tempted Luke with the seductive forgetfulness of single malt. And talked him into that ridiculous wager. He considered calling the writer and telling him the bet was off. It wouldn’t surprise Luke if Trainor had backed out already, since the whole thing had been hatched in a drunken haze of one-upmanship. Who the hell bet on true love?
He pulled out his phone, found Miller’s number, then put the phone away. Luke had never welshed on a bet in his life. Let the other two call it quits. He could wait them out, because he was going to put it out of his mind until the end of the season and then show them how to run a courtship.
He headed for the cubicle pen where his assistant, Doug Weiss, worked, along with a battalion of other staff members who handled everything from ordering supplies for the locker room to cutting the players’ paychecks. It was a hive of activity. When Luke leaned into Doug’s cubicle, the tall, skinny young man pulled his telephone headset off and fluffed his mop of frizzy red hair. “Hey, Boss Ice, what do you need?”
“I need two good tickets to Sunday’s game with a signed football. And I need four VIP box tickets and the works.”
“The works?” Doug whistled. “Is this for some charity auction I don’t know about?”
“No, it’s for someone my brother dumped on.”
Doug grimaced at the mention of Trevor and spun around to his computer, his hands poised over the keyboard. “Let me have the info, boss.”
Luke gave him the two concierges’ names before adding, “Check on Miranda Tate’s schedule, and have the VIP tickets and the works delivered to her personally.” He didn’t want Spindle horning in on his apology gifts to Miranda. “You got the list of who else needs tickets for the game, right?”
“All taken care of,” Doug assured him. “And you saw the addition of the table at the gala next Thursday night on your schedule, right?”
Luke didn’t curse, but he wanted to. “Remind me whose idea that was?”
Doug’s freckled cheeks reddened. “Um, Kathy Middleton’s. She’s in PR.”
“I see.” Kathy Middleton was a hot brunette Doug had a major crush on. Luke lowered his voice. “Have you asked her out yet?”
Doug shook his head, making his hair flop. “She wouldn’t go out with someone like me.”
He’d had a lot of women he’d thought he wanted.
Thirty minutes later, Luke faced Head Coach Junius Farrell across his huge oak-and-chrome desk. “With all due respect, Junius, I think we should keep the play as is. We can change it up for next year after we have time to work on it in training camp. But reconfiguring it in midseason is going to cause a lot of confusion on the field.”
He’d been through this with the coach before. It was Junius’s first time as a head coach, and he wanted to put his stamp on the Empire, so he kept trying to fix things that weren’t broken. As the veteran quarterback, Luke got the job of running interference to keep the new coach from screwing up the current season. That’s why he was at the Empire Center on a Tuesday when every other player had the day off.
“But if we run the pick, it would free up Marshall,” Junius said, jabbing his finger against his desk authoritatively.
“You’re right,” Luke said. “But it’s tricky and we haven’t had time to practice it often enough. If we try to run it this week, we’ll have the guys tripping over each other at the forty. How about using it against the Colts?”
That game was in three weeks. By then, the offensive line could probably learn the new scheme well enough not to screw it up completely. In addition, it would work better against the Colts than either the Cardinals or the Buccaneers.
“I’ll consider it.” Junius swiveled to face his computer screen and clicked on his mouse a couple of times. He wasn’t a bad guy. He just didn’t realize he’d taken over an organization that had the talent and momentum to carry him to the Super Bowl if he’d get out of the way.
As long as Luke’s shoulder held out. He had to stop himself from rubbing at the phantom pain that had appeared out of nowhere and disappeared just as fast. No one knew why he’d thrown that interception, and he wanted to keep it that way.
They discussed some personnel changes and some strategies for Sunday’s game before Junius thanked Luke for coming and let him go.
Luke walked down the carpeted hallway. It wasn’t empty, because the massive moneymaking machine that was an NFL football team ran at full speed from the beginning of training camp until the team’s last game—and then some. But the office staff members were smaller than the players, so they didn’t take up as much room in the corridor. Luke nodded to a couple of the PR people he passed. He didn’t envy them their jobs. There was always some problem that had to be hushed up. Or spun for the press, if it couldn’t be squelched.
Luke hoped that Trevor’s little incident wouldn’t end up on their radar. It was pretty tame—a nonevent, in fact—but Luke’s image had been scrubbed clean because it was less distracting that way. However, the press would love to have some dirt sticking to him. He got it: scandal sold papers and drew viewers. He just didn’t want to answer questions about anything other than the game.
His head was throbbing again. Damn Gavin Miller anyway. He’d tempted Luke with the seductive forgetfulness of single malt. And talked him into that ridiculous wager. He considered calling the writer and telling him the bet was off. It wouldn’t surprise Luke if Trainor had backed out already, since the whole thing had been hatched in a drunken haze of one-upmanship. Who the hell bet on true love?
He pulled out his phone, found Miller’s number, then put the phone away. Luke had never welshed on a bet in his life. Let the other two call it quits. He could wait them out, because he was going to put it out of his mind until the end of the season and then show them how to run a courtship.
He headed for the cubicle pen where his assistant, Doug Weiss, worked, along with a battalion of other staff members who handled everything from ordering supplies for the locker room to cutting the players’ paychecks. It was a hive of activity. When Luke leaned into Doug’s cubicle, the tall, skinny young man pulled his telephone headset off and fluffed his mop of frizzy red hair. “Hey, Boss Ice, what do you need?”
“I need two good tickets to Sunday’s game with a signed football. And I need four VIP box tickets and the works.”
“The works?” Doug whistled. “Is this for some charity auction I don’t know about?”
“No, it’s for someone my brother dumped on.”
Doug grimaced at the mention of Trevor and spun around to his computer, his hands poised over the keyboard. “Let me have the info, boss.”
Luke gave him the two concierges’ names before adding, “Check on Miranda Tate’s schedule, and have the VIP tickets and the works delivered to her personally.” He didn’t want Spindle horning in on his apology gifts to Miranda. “You got the list of who else needs tickets for the game, right?”
“All taken care of,” Doug assured him. “And you saw the addition of the table at the gala next Thursday night on your schedule, right?”
Luke didn’t curse, but he wanted to. “Remind me whose idea that was?”
Doug’s freckled cheeks reddened. “Um, Kathy Middleton’s. She’s in PR.”
“I see.” Kathy Middleton was a hot brunette Doug had a major crush on. Luke lowered his voice. “Have you asked her out yet?”
Doug shook his head, making his hair flop. “She wouldn’t go out with someone like me.”
