The Perfect Play
Page 11
She didn’t wake up, was probably exhausted. He wondered how long she’d been doing everything alone. Raising a kid by herself? Man, there couldn’t be anything easy about that, and she didn’t say anything about her family.
Nathan seemed like a nice kid, too. So did his friends. Which meant she was doing everything right. Alone.
As if he didn’t like a lot about her already, he had to go and start admiring her, too.
Yeah, he was in big trouble with this woman.
SIX
“SO HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON?”
Tara nearly jumped out of her skin as Nathan’s voice shattered the silence of her normal Saturday afternoon laundry folding activities. She’d gone to work early that morning, and he’d been gone by the time she got home. As was often the case, they were like two ships passing each other in the night.
She laid the towel down on the top of the dryer. “You scared me. When did you get in?”
“I dunno. A while ago.”
“I didn’t hear you over the dryer. How long has what been going on?”
“You and Mick Riley.”
“Oh. There’s nothing going on.”
Nathan cocked his head to the side and gave her the same look she gave him when the answer wasn’t good enough. She resisted smiling.
“Come on, Mom. No guy comes over to have dinner with your kid if he doesn’t really like you.”
“You think so?”
“Guh. You have it bad for him.” He turned and walked out of the laundry room.
Tara followed him into the kitchen and lifted the lid over the pot cooking on the stove. She stirred the sauce while Nathan fixed himself a glass of chocolate milk.
“So, does it bother you?” she asked.
“Does what bother me?”
“Me seeing someone.”
“He’s not just someone, Mom. He’s the freakin’ quarterback of an NFL football team.”
“If he wasn’t, would it bother you?”
“Mom, I don’t care if you’re dating the guy who picks up our garbage, as long as he’s nice to you.” Nathan stopped in front of her and looked her straight in the eye. “Is he nice to you?”
His question shocked her. “Yes. He is.”
“Then go for it. But it’s pretty darn cool that you’re dating Mick Riley. Don’t expect me to keep a lid on that one.” Nathan kissed her cheek and walked out of the room, milk and a handful of cookies in hand.
She was too choked up and teary eyed to jump on him about eating junk food before dinner.
MICK WAS PHYSICALLY DRAINED, DRIPPING SWEAT, AND cussing his trainer, which made Ben laugh at him and call it a good workout.
Mick wiped the sweat from his eyes and drained his bottle of water. “You’re a son of a bitch,” he said, panting.
Ben sat next to him on the weight bench. “You pay me to be a son of a bitch. If you hate me at the end of a workout, then I’ve done my job.”
“Uh-huh. I’m dying here.”
Ben slapped him on the back, his bald head gleaming in the overhead lights. “Quit whining like a pu**y and get on the treadmill for twenty to cool down. Then you can hit the shower.”
“You enjoy this.” Mick dragged his sore body to a standing position.
“It caters to my sadistic tendencies. And I get paid for it. What’s not to love about it?”
Mick shook his head and dragged himself over to the treadmill, hit twenty minutes and a reasonable yet not pathetically slow walk, and started up. By then Ben was off to torture some other poor bastard. Mick focused on the television and hoped this twenty minutes would go by fast.
“Man, you must be getting old. Ben’s workouts are damn near killing you.”
Mick grinned as Randy Lasalle, his best wide receiver, hopped onto the treadmill and started up a brisk pace. Randy was twenty-two and in the second year of his contract. Mick was glad to have him. The kid had come from a state school in Louisiana, drafted high because he had the best damn hands and the quickest stride Mick had ever seen.
“You here to work out with Ben?”
“Yeah. Gotta stay in shape for the ladies, don’tcha know.”
Mick snorted. “What you mean is you’ve gotta keep those fine legs in shape for me.”
Randy laughed. “Just don’t tell the ladies, okay?”
Ben came by, leaned over Randy’s treadmill, and punched in some numbers. “Not quite fast enough, pretty boy. You want to keep making the big money on fast legs, then less talking, more running.”
After Ben walked away, Randy said, “It’s like being back in school again. I’m too old for this shit.”
“I don’t hear you sweating enough, Randy,” Ben said from across the room.
Randy rolled his eyes, and Mick laughed.
Mick showered, dressed, and headed toward the front of the gym, when he saw a gorgeous redhead wearing a power suit that was almost but not quite too short to be considered appropriate. Her hair was stylishly swept up, her eyes a witchy green, her heels sinfully high. She looked like sex incarnate—and smiled like she knew exactly how she looked as she leaned against the front counter while she talked on the phone, one hip cocked to the side, seemingly oblivious to the drooling masses of sweaty gym guys who were oh so obviously repeatedly walking by to catch a glimpse of her.
But Mick knew she was anything but oblivious.
Mick’s agent, Elizabeth Darnell, was nothing if not a traffic stopper. She let her shocking good looks get her in the door and reel you in. And then she went in for the kill while your tongue was dragging the floor.
She finished her phone conversation when she saw him heading in her direction, and turned her dazzling smile on him.
“Mick, I didn’t know you were here.”
“Liz, I doubt there’s very little you don’t know.”
She slid her arm in his. “True. Take me to lunch, and let’s chat.”
“Sure.”
They hit a restaurant a few blocks away. Mick was starving after his flogging from Ben, so he loaded up on protein and carbs, while Liz nibbled at a grilled chicken salad.
“You need a cheeseburger,” he said, waving his fork at her pitiful attempts at eating.
“Honey, if I get fat, general managers won’t ogle my legs and my tits. Then who’ll get guys like you multimillion-dollar contracts?”
Mick took a long drink of water. “I’d rather see you eat a cheeseburger.”
She arched a brow, dabbed her oh-so-pretty mouth with her napkin, then pushed her plate to the side. “There’s a Hollywood premiere this week I’d like you to go to.”
“Not interested.”
“You always say that. And then you always go.”
“Still not interested.”
Liz inhaled deeply, as if she were a parent exasperated with a difficult child. He knew she wasn’t trying to impress him with the hint of cl**vage on display. Mick didn’t f**k people he did business with, which worked out really well for Liz, too, because she didn’t mix her business with her pleasure either. To Mick, Liz was like a sister—a sometimes extremely annoying sister—who made him a lot of money.
“Mick, it’s summer blockbuster season. People are paying attention to television and magazines and to who’s showing up at these big movie premieres. This would be a great time to make an appearance at one of these huge, moneymaking movies. Cynthia Beaudreaux’s new film releases Wednesday.”
“What kind of movie is it?”
“Romantic comedy.”
Mick bit into a piece of bread. “I like action flicks.”
“But wouldn’t you love to attend the premiere of her movie?”
He’d rather have a root canal. But maybe Tara liked romantic comedies. “Let me check my schedule, and I’ll get back to you.”
Liz arched a brow. “Honey, I’m your schedule. I know every move you make.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You don’t own me, Liz. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you do. You want to manage my career, fine. Don’t think you manage my life. I’ll check my schedule and get back to you.”
She picked up her glass of sparkling water, not at all offended. Her life consisted of dealing with athletes with huge egos. He knew it would take a steamroller to stop her.
“Can’t you do that right now?”
“My phone’s in the car.”
“Can’t you go get it?”
“No.”
And Mick had to admit that he enjoyed pissing her off.
She sighed. “You try my patience, Mick.”
“Yeah, but I make you a hell of a lot of money, so you’re willing to put up with me. I’ll call you later tonight, Liz. And then I’ll tell you whether to grab me some tickets for that premiere.”
“I meant for you to take Cynthia Beaudreaux to the premiere of her movie.”
“Doesn’t she already have a date?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she does. I don’t care. I’ll arrange for you to be her date.”
“There you go again, arranging people’s lives for them.”
“For their benefit. For your benefit.”
“If I go to this premiere, it won’t be with Cynthia.”
Liz’s eyes flashed with irritation. “Who will it be with?”
“I’ll bring my own date.”
“That event planner?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“She’s a nobody.”
“But the point of me going to the premiere is for me to be seen and photographed, right?”
She tapped her fingernails on the table. “Yes. But—”
“But nothing. You’ve introduced me to these women for years now, Liz. And the PR has been great. Now and then I’d like to choose my own date, okay?”
She opened her mouth to say something, but the look he gave her made her think twice.
Smart woman. She knew when not to argue. “Call me and let me know what you decide.”
“I’ll do that.”
NATHAN WAS SPENDING THE WEEK AT A FOOTBALL camp. Both teams—JV and varsity—were attending. He’d never been away from her for so long. A few days for school excursions yes, but not all week long. Tara had put him on the bus at five a.m. this morning and tried not to let him see the tears that threatened to fall, knowing he’d be embarrassed. Plus she wanted him to grow up strong and independent, and he certainly was that and more. He’d been so excited about this camp, and she’d scrimped and saved to be able to afford this. She was happy to be able to do it for him. He’d earned it with good grades and doing chores, and if his attitude over the past year hadn’t been spectacular, she’d understood it wasn’t easy being a teenager and starting high school. There were so many pressures on kids these days. She tried to cut him some slack as long as things didn’t get too out of hand. And those pesky hormones accounted for at least some of his Jekyll and Hyde behavior.
But now she had an entire week of quiet nights at home. She didn’t know what she was going to do with herself. Days she kept busy with work. She had a luncheon on Wednesday, so today and Tuesday she and the other women would be busy enough prepping for that.
But what was she going to do at night? She supposed she’d better start preparing herself for those lonely times, since eventually he’d get his driver’s license, start dating, go off to college. He wasn’t going to be around all that much anymore.
She caught herself staring out the kitchen window, zapping back to reality at the sound of her cell phone ringing. She grabbed it and answered.
“Hey, beautiful.”
Mick. She smiled at the sound of his voice. “Hey yourself, handsome.”
“What are you up to?”
“Feeling sorry for myself because my son has abandoned me for a week.”
“Oh yeah? Where’s he off to?”
“Football camp.”
“I remember those. He’ll have a good time.”
“I’m sure he will. But it’s the first time we’ve been apart this long.”
“Geez, Mom, time to cut the apron strings.”
Now it was her turn to laugh. “You’re right. I’m going a little overboard, aren’t I?”
“Definitely. So what are you doing Wednesday night?”
“I have a luncheon to do Wednesday.”
“But Wednesday night? Are you free?”
“Um, I guess so.”
“What time is your luncheon over with?”
“We should finish up about two o’clock, including cleanup.”
“Would you like to see a movie with me Wednesday night?”
She smiled. That would be the perfect way to relax after doing the event Wednesday. “I’d love to.”
“Great. If you give me the location of the event you’re doing, I’ll have a limo pick you up there around two.”
“A limo?”
“Yeah. They’ll bring you to the airport.”
“Airport? To see a movie?” She felt like she’d missed a part of the conversation somewhere.
“We’re flying to L.A. to see the premiere of I Dream of You.”
She fell into the chair. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been dying to see that movie.”
“Yeah? Great.”
“Are you serious? A premiere?”
“Serious.”
“Oh my God, Mick.”
“Does that mean yes?”
“Um, yes. Of course yes. I’d love to.”
Nathan seemed like a nice kid, too. So did his friends. Which meant she was doing everything right. Alone.
As if he didn’t like a lot about her already, he had to go and start admiring her, too.
Yeah, he was in big trouble with this woman.
SIX
“SO HOW LONG HAS THIS BEEN GOING ON?”
Tara nearly jumped out of her skin as Nathan’s voice shattered the silence of her normal Saturday afternoon laundry folding activities. She’d gone to work early that morning, and he’d been gone by the time she got home. As was often the case, they were like two ships passing each other in the night.
She laid the towel down on the top of the dryer. “You scared me. When did you get in?”
“I dunno. A while ago.”
“I didn’t hear you over the dryer. How long has what been going on?”
“You and Mick Riley.”
“Oh. There’s nothing going on.”
Nathan cocked his head to the side and gave her the same look she gave him when the answer wasn’t good enough. She resisted smiling.
“Come on, Mom. No guy comes over to have dinner with your kid if he doesn’t really like you.”
“You think so?”
“Guh. You have it bad for him.” He turned and walked out of the laundry room.
Tara followed him into the kitchen and lifted the lid over the pot cooking on the stove. She stirred the sauce while Nathan fixed himself a glass of chocolate milk.
“So, does it bother you?” she asked.
“Does what bother me?”
“Me seeing someone.”
“He’s not just someone, Mom. He’s the freakin’ quarterback of an NFL football team.”
“If he wasn’t, would it bother you?”
“Mom, I don’t care if you’re dating the guy who picks up our garbage, as long as he’s nice to you.” Nathan stopped in front of her and looked her straight in the eye. “Is he nice to you?”
His question shocked her. “Yes. He is.”
“Then go for it. But it’s pretty darn cool that you’re dating Mick Riley. Don’t expect me to keep a lid on that one.” Nathan kissed her cheek and walked out of the room, milk and a handful of cookies in hand.
She was too choked up and teary eyed to jump on him about eating junk food before dinner.
MICK WAS PHYSICALLY DRAINED, DRIPPING SWEAT, AND cussing his trainer, which made Ben laugh at him and call it a good workout.
Mick wiped the sweat from his eyes and drained his bottle of water. “You’re a son of a bitch,” he said, panting.
Ben sat next to him on the weight bench. “You pay me to be a son of a bitch. If you hate me at the end of a workout, then I’ve done my job.”
“Uh-huh. I’m dying here.”
Ben slapped him on the back, his bald head gleaming in the overhead lights. “Quit whining like a pu**y and get on the treadmill for twenty to cool down. Then you can hit the shower.”
“You enjoy this.” Mick dragged his sore body to a standing position.
“It caters to my sadistic tendencies. And I get paid for it. What’s not to love about it?”
Mick shook his head and dragged himself over to the treadmill, hit twenty minutes and a reasonable yet not pathetically slow walk, and started up. By then Ben was off to torture some other poor bastard. Mick focused on the television and hoped this twenty minutes would go by fast.
“Man, you must be getting old. Ben’s workouts are damn near killing you.”
Mick grinned as Randy Lasalle, his best wide receiver, hopped onto the treadmill and started up a brisk pace. Randy was twenty-two and in the second year of his contract. Mick was glad to have him. The kid had come from a state school in Louisiana, drafted high because he had the best damn hands and the quickest stride Mick had ever seen.
“You here to work out with Ben?”
“Yeah. Gotta stay in shape for the ladies, don’tcha know.”
Mick snorted. “What you mean is you’ve gotta keep those fine legs in shape for me.”
Randy laughed. “Just don’t tell the ladies, okay?”
Ben came by, leaned over Randy’s treadmill, and punched in some numbers. “Not quite fast enough, pretty boy. You want to keep making the big money on fast legs, then less talking, more running.”
After Ben walked away, Randy said, “It’s like being back in school again. I’m too old for this shit.”
“I don’t hear you sweating enough, Randy,” Ben said from across the room.
Randy rolled his eyes, and Mick laughed.
Mick showered, dressed, and headed toward the front of the gym, when he saw a gorgeous redhead wearing a power suit that was almost but not quite too short to be considered appropriate. Her hair was stylishly swept up, her eyes a witchy green, her heels sinfully high. She looked like sex incarnate—and smiled like she knew exactly how she looked as she leaned against the front counter while she talked on the phone, one hip cocked to the side, seemingly oblivious to the drooling masses of sweaty gym guys who were oh so obviously repeatedly walking by to catch a glimpse of her.
But Mick knew she was anything but oblivious.
Mick’s agent, Elizabeth Darnell, was nothing if not a traffic stopper. She let her shocking good looks get her in the door and reel you in. And then she went in for the kill while your tongue was dragging the floor.
She finished her phone conversation when she saw him heading in her direction, and turned her dazzling smile on him.
“Mick, I didn’t know you were here.”
“Liz, I doubt there’s very little you don’t know.”
She slid her arm in his. “True. Take me to lunch, and let’s chat.”
“Sure.”
They hit a restaurant a few blocks away. Mick was starving after his flogging from Ben, so he loaded up on protein and carbs, while Liz nibbled at a grilled chicken salad.
“You need a cheeseburger,” he said, waving his fork at her pitiful attempts at eating.
“Honey, if I get fat, general managers won’t ogle my legs and my tits. Then who’ll get guys like you multimillion-dollar contracts?”
Mick took a long drink of water. “I’d rather see you eat a cheeseburger.”
She arched a brow, dabbed her oh-so-pretty mouth with her napkin, then pushed her plate to the side. “There’s a Hollywood premiere this week I’d like you to go to.”
“Not interested.”
“You always say that. And then you always go.”
“Still not interested.”
Liz inhaled deeply, as if she were a parent exasperated with a difficult child. He knew she wasn’t trying to impress him with the hint of cl**vage on display. Mick didn’t f**k people he did business with, which worked out really well for Liz, too, because she didn’t mix her business with her pleasure either. To Mick, Liz was like a sister—a sometimes extremely annoying sister—who made him a lot of money.
“Mick, it’s summer blockbuster season. People are paying attention to television and magazines and to who’s showing up at these big movie premieres. This would be a great time to make an appearance at one of these huge, moneymaking movies. Cynthia Beaudreaux’s new film releases Wednesday.”
“What kind of movie is it?”
“Romantic comedy.”
Mick bit into a piece of bread. “I like action flicks.”
“But wouldn’t you love to attend the premiere of her movie?”
He’d rather have a root canal. But maybe Tara liked romantic comedies. “Let me check my schedule, and I’ll get back to you.”
Liz arched a brow. “Honey, I’m your schedule. I know every move you make.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You don’t own me, Liz. Don’t make the mistake of thinking you do. You want to manage my career, fine. Don’t think you manage my life. I’ll check my schedule and get back to you.”
She picked up her glass of sparkling water, not at all offended. Her life consisted of dealing with athletes with huge egos. He knew it would take a steamroller to stop her.
“Can’t you do that right now?”
“My phone’s in the car.”
“Can’t you go get it?”
“No.”
And Mick had to admit that he enjoyed pissing her off.
She sighed. “You try my patience, Mick.”
“Yeah, but I make you a hell of a lot of money, so you’re willing to put up with me. I’ll call you later tonight, Liz. And then I’ll tell you whether to grab me some tickets for that premiere.”
“I meant for you to take Cynthia Beaudreaux to the premiere of her movie.”
“Doesn’t she already have a date?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she does. I don’t care. I’ll arrange for you to be her date.”
“There you go again, arranging people’s lives for them.”
“For their benefit. For your benefit.”
“If I go to this premiere, it won’t be with Cynthia.”
Liz’s eyes flashed with irritation. “Who will it be with?”
“I’ll bring my own date.”
“That event planner?”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“She’s a nobody.”
“But the point of me going to the premiere is for me to be seen and photographed, right?”
She tapped her fingernails on the table. “Yes. But—”
“But nothing. You’ve introduced me to these women for years now, Liz. And the PR has been great. Now and then I’d like to choose my own date, okay?”
She opened her mouth to say something, but the look he gave her made her think twice.
Smart woman. She knew when not to argue. “Call me and let me know what you decide.”
“I’ll do that.”
NATHAN WAS SPENDING THE WEEK AT A FOOTBALL camp. Both teams—JV and varsity—were attending. He’d never been away from her for so long. A few days for school excursions yes, but not all week long. Tara had put him on the bus at five a.m. this morning and tried not to let him see the tears that threatened to fall, knowing he’d be embarrassed. Plus she wanted him to grow up strong and independent, and he certainly was that and more. He’d been so excited about this camp, and she’d scrimped and saved to be able to afford this. She was happy to be able to do it for him. He’d earned it with good grades and doing chores, and if his attitude over the past year hadn’t been spectacular, she’d understood it wasn’t easy being a teenager and starting high school. There were so many pressures on kids these days. She tried to cut him some slack as long as things didn’t get too out of hand. And those pesky hormones accounted for at least some of his Jekyll and Hyde behavior.
But now she had an entire week of quiet nights at home. She didn’t know what she was going to do with herself. Days she kept busy with work. She had a luncheon on Wednesday, so today and Tuesday she and the other women would be busy enough prepping for that.
But what was she going to do at night? She supposed she’d better start preparing herself for those lonely times, since eventually he’d get his driver’s license, start dating, go off to college. He wasn’t going to be around all that much anymore.
She caught herself staring out the kitchen window, zapping back to reality at the sound of her cell phone ringing. She grabbed it and answered.
“Hey, beautiful.”
Mick. She smiled at the sound of his voice. “Hey yourself, handsome.”
“What are you up to?”
“Feeling sorry for myself because my son has abandoned me for a week.”
“Oh yeah? Where’s he off to?”
“Football camp.”
“I remember those. He’ll have a good time.”
“I’m sure he will. But it’s the first time we’ve been apart this long.”
“Geez, Mom, time to cut the apron strings.”
Now it was her turn to laugh. “You’re right. I’m going a little overboard, aren’t I?”
“Definitely. So what are you doing Wednesday night?”
“I have a luncheon to do Wednesday.”
“But Wednesday night? Are you free?”
“Um, I guess so.”
“What time is your luncheon over with?”
“We should finish up about two o’clock, including cleanup.”
“Would you like to see a movie with me Wednesday night?”
She smiled. That would be the perfect way to relax after doing the event Wednesday. “I’d love to.”
“Great. If you give me the location of the event you’re doing, I’ll have a limo pick you up there around two.”
“A limo?”
“Yeah. They’ll bring you to the airport.”
“Airport? To see a movie?” She felt like she’d missed a part of the conversation somewhere.
“We’re flying to L.A. to see the premiere of I Dream of You.”
She fell into the chair. “Are you kidding me? I’ve been dying to see that movie.”
“Yeah? Great.”
“Are you serious? A premiere?”
“Serious.”
“Oh my God, Mick.”
“Does that mean yes?”
“Um, yes. Of course yes. I’d love to.”
