Playing the Game (7 page)

“I am.”

The phone rang. The flashing light of the alarm clock said nine-thirty. Sunday morning. The shrill sound was loud to Barry’s half asleep ears. He stretched his long arm out over Roxanne to answer it, still in a groggy state of awareness. Dave McCall’s voice boomed from the other end of the line.

“Hey Barry, what are you doing at home? You’re not still in bed are you? Geez, this is one for the books!” Dave’s laughter caused Barry to sit up with a start, jerking the phone from its spot on the nightstand and waking Roxanne.

“What are you talking about?” Barry’s attention was diverted from the phone call while he smiled at Roxanne’s lazy yawn as she prepared to command his full attention.

“Barry? Are you there? You didn’t forget about the golf tournament…”

“Oh no. That’s right! The charity tourney for the Hospital is today—What time is it?”

“It’s tee-off time. That’s why I called you—hey what’s going on? You okay? You get hit on the head or something? This is a big charity event—the management made it crystal clear this is a command performance. You can’t back out.”

“I’ll be there within an hour. Make some excuse for me.” Barry threw the phone down on the bedside table and bounded out of bed, this time barely giving Roxanne a cursory glance.

She sat up. She’d heard his conversation. He figured he didn’t need to explain the situation to her.

He was fully dressed by the time she got out of bed to begin dressing. He wondered what she was thinking as he stood in the door to the bathroom, calculating whether or not he had enough time to shave. He decided he didn’t.

“I haven’t done anything like this since I was in college,” he said “If you’re supposed to be running this show, how come you didn’t remind me about it this morning? You forget too?” He shook his head. “I can’t believe it.” He grabbed his wallet and shoved it in his pants and headed for the door.

“I can’t believe I forgot. But in my defense I wasn’t planning on going. Laura’s in charge of this event.” She followed him to the door, fully dressed. He was glad he decided not to shave.

“You always dress so fast?” he asked as he pounded down the stairs and to the front door with her following.

“No. But I didn’t have much choice of what to wear today.” She gave him a big smile as they walked out the door. “Since I made you late, the least I could do is get ready quick.”

“Then you won’t be going with me to the tournament?” He stopped to face her as they reached his car.

“No. I can’t. I have a business lunch with someone from out of town. I have to pick him up from the airport soon.” She looked at her watch.

The idea of a man from out of town triggered an automatic gut clench. What was wrong with him?

They stood and looked at each other. The sudden end of their time together hit him. He wrapped one arm around her waist and caressed her cheek with his other hand. Her eyes looked sad for an instant before she closed them. He kissed her. Her mouth was hot and the kiss deep. He pulled her closer so that her hips molded to his. His pulse picked up pace. He didn’t want the kiss to end. He didn’t want to let her go. But he did.

He gently pushed her back from him, all too aware of time now. Her face glowed. Roxanne smiled up at him now, carefree as ever. The sun glistened on her dark hair giving her an almost surreal glow. His stomach tightened and he took a deep breath.

“We’ll have to pick up where we left off next time we meet,” he said. He chided himself for making this promise, but he felt the need to.

“I’ll call your agent about the interview,” she said.

He’d almost forgotten about that. He opened the car door to let her in. He’d need to give her a ride since they had never gone back to the country club to retrieve her car.

“You can just drop me at the train station. I’ll get my car later. I don’t want to make you any later than you already are.”

“Are you sure? I hate to let you go so soon,” he admitted. He started the car.

She laughed and slunk back in her seat. “C’est la vie,” she declared in a sexy French accent.

She sounded as if there was a giggle harbored just beneath the surface. Her carefree attitude was refreshing and too contagious for him to do anything but laugh.

They arrived at the station before he had time to think anymore about it. There was a train ready to pull out so Roxanne had to hurry. She leaned over and kissed him one last time as she opened her door to leave.

“Au revoir—as you French say,” he said.

“Yes. Until we meet again.” She flung the words over her shoulder as she ran toward the train, dressed in her silver heels and slinky black evening dress with the mink-trimmed hemline.

He smiled at that picture of her and concentrated to make it stay permanently in his memory. He was reluctant to turn away from her and only did so when she disappeared onto the train. Then he drove off—fast.

It was like changing gears in a rusty old car, trying to get his mind off Roxanne and onto the day that lay ahead of him. This was one weekend Barry knew he’d never forget, but he had to put the memory on a back burner. It was time to get serious.

Time to face the crowd waiting at the golf tournament.

Chapter 3

“BARRY MUST be having car trouble.” Dave told a group of people after he got off the phone.

“That hardly seems likely. The man has four cars. What is it you’re trying to cover up? Is he sick? Or hurt?” one of the young reporters demanded.

No one was buying it. So much for his creativity when it came to making excuses, Dave thought. All he did was make people suspicious, especially the reporters who knew Barry.

For over an hour Dave was hounded by reporters, tournament officials and people from the hospital. Even his teammates were asking him for the real reason why Barry was late. He could think of nothing more to tell them than that Barry overslept. This revelation, though true as far as Dave was concerned, was met with more skepticism. After listening to his speech for the third time, one of the hospital public relations people approached him.

“Mr. McCall, I’m Laura Howard with Children’s Mercy Hospital. Perhaps you remember me. We met at the cocktail party the other night?”

“Yes I remember. Hello.” He gave her his customary friendly grin.

“Do you mind my asking if Barry mentioned Roxanne when you spoke with him?” She had a worried look, he thought.

“Who the hell is Roxanne? Oh, sorry. I have to learn to watch my language.” He felt embarrassed, and more than a little puzzled.

“No problem. I guess that answers my question.” She left it at that and walked away.

Barry Dennis simply did not oversleep for an important event, Dave thought. He didn’t even oversleep for unimportant things, much less this. Dave stood in the lobby holding his cell phone, debating whether to call again. It was ten thirty now.

“You are trying to hide something—I’ll bet he’s been injured and you’re trying to keep it hushed up until you know if he’ll be playing. What about it, Dave? How serious is the injury?” the reporter from the
Boston Globe
, Kevin Moroni, asked

“No. I’m serious. He really did oversleep, Kevin. Why would I lie about something as embarrassing as that?” They walked out to where the team’s coach was standing, in a corner of the clubhouse where refreshments were being served until the event would officially begin.

They joined the coach and he looked worried. “Dave, it’s all right. Tell us what happened to Barry. You can keep it off the record, can’t you, Kevin? Besides, it can’t be anything too serious or I would have heard about it,” Coach John Benson assured the reporter.

“Look, Coach, he should be here soon—at least that’s what he told me. Let him explain it to you. All I know is what he told me.” Dave shoved his hands through his mop of hair and turned away in exasperation. He was starting to have his own doubts. He assumed that Barry was still in bed with a woman named Roxanne after Laura Howard’s question, but Barry hadn’t said so. His assumption was based on Barry being a normal red-blooded male—not that he wasn’t—but sometimes Barry seemed to be more superhuman than most. Barry rarely—no never—succumbed to normal human distractions. Nothing ever interfered with his professional life that Dave knew of.

The crowd of spectators grew as the start time for the tournament approached. The men inside, the paying participants, celebrities from various sports, press people, and Children’s Mercy Hospital representatives alike began murmuring. Dave had the uneasy feeling that they were spreading rumors about Barry Dennis’s mysterious absence. After all, he was the star attraction of the event.

Finally, Dave spotted Barry’s black Cadillac Eldorado stealthily driving up to the curb like a sleek black alley cat trying to sneak by. Dave rushed out to talk to him before any of the press did, but he was too late. Kevin Moroni got to him first and took him into the pressroom. Coach Benson and Dave followed them into the room arranged with chairs, tables, computers and printers. The door was closed after them.

“All right, let’s have it.” Kevin wasted no time. All three looked at Barry expectantly. Barry had no idea what to say to them and looked at Dave for help. Dave merely shrugged his massive shoulders with an apologetic look.

“Didn’t Dave tell you?” Barry stalled, suddenly finding the situation embarrassing. He looked at his watch and started to rise from the chair they had backed him into. “It’s late already. We better get started…”

“Not so fast. I’d like to hear it from you.” Kevin was relentless with his pencil poised. Barry looked at them all in disbelief. The coach had his arms crossed expectantly.

“I overslept. I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do about it now except get out there and get on with it.” He rose again from his chair, and this time he was determined to get out of there.

“That’s it? You sure you’re not trying to hide anything?” Kevin questioned.

Barry concentrated a stare at the reporter, wordlessly telling him he was out of line. It was Coach Benson who responded.

“Now you know better than that, Kevin. If Barry says he overslept, then that’s it. Everyone’s entitled once in a while.” Coach Benson slammed his fist on the table.

“I guess so. Barry Dennis is human after all,” Kevin observed and everyone laughed except Barry.

“No, I’m not. This was just a test to see how much you all really cared.” Barry laughed at his own joke along with the rest of them. As they all started outside the room to get on with the tournament, Kevin pulled Barry aside.

“You know we really thought you were hurt or ill or something—you sure everything is okay? I’m not trying to question you or anything—it’s just not like you to make such a simple mistake as oversleeping.”

Barry responded to the concern in Kevin’s voice and because he had known him since he first came to Boston to be a fair reporter.

“I did oversleep, plain and simple. But I can tell you—no I can promise you—I will never make that mistake again.” Barry didn’t realize he’d said it with such vehemence until he noted Kevin’s reaction; Dave heard him too. They both looked mollified; convinced that this was a freak incident in the basketball-dedicated life of the legendary Barry Dennis.

But Barry wasn’t so sure. They went out to the first tee and any questions about the delay were brushed off with statements about interviews running late. Barry took center stage and he did his job, playing host to the large audience from beginning to end. All the while, whenever he stood alone to concentrate quietly on a putt, or looked off into the distance to follow a drive, he saw her image. He saw her flirtatious eyes and seductive smile, her chestnut hair billowing out around her face against the pillows, her voluptuous body lounging invitingly, calling to him. This had to stop.

“Barry, wait a minute. Stay and have something to eat with me,” Dave invited, catching up with Barry just as he was about to have his car brought around. The tournament and autograph signing were over.

“Great idea. It’ll give me a chance to tell you about Roxanne.” Barry needed to talk with someone about it. He walked back into the country club to the restaurant with Dave.

“Roxanne again? Who the hell is she anyway? This is the second time her name came up today,” Dave told him.

Barry smiled at his friend’s puzzlement. It wasn’t a wise thing to tell Dave any secrets, but he felt a strong compulsion to tell someone about her. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t a matter of bragging. In fact, he was definitely not proud of having spent the weekend with another woman. He thought of Susan. She would be crushed if she knew. They were in the process of breaking up, but he should have done it cleanly. He felt guilty now and figured that must be why he needed to talk to someone about it.

That and something else. Even though he knew it wasn’t fair to Susan, he had no regrets about the weekend he spent with Roxanne. She excited him. He thought of the possibility of spending more time with her. Then he caught himself and shook his head.

When they took their seats at their table and the hostess disappeared, he answered his friend’s question.

“I was with her Friday night.”

“The woman in the car? I didn’t figure she was someone you knew. Want to hear something funny? I thought you two just met Friday night and you were picking her up. I should have known better.” Dave was grinning again.

“She’s the reason I overslept this morning,” Barry admitted.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I mean we spent the weekend together at my house.” He thought he was getting through now, but no.

“She spent the weekend at your house? Poor woman must have been bored stiff. What did she do—watch you work out, play hoops and eat?” Dave laughed.

“I didn’t work out—or play hoops.” Barry made the statement as if he realized it that moment himself.

“What? You didn’t work out or play hoops? Are you kidding? What the hell did you do…” Dave stopped himself short. His mouth dropped and Barry could swear he turned a shade of pink.