• • •
When she walked into the boardroom twenty minutes later, most people had already arrived and were seated around a long, oval table. No Madden. She squeezed her eyes closed. No Carter either, but then, she had expected that. Some of the team had gone to cheer up kids at a local hospital. An empty chair beckoned next to Nealy, and she fell into it. The faces looking at her appeared mildly excited but also apprehensive.
Jacey fought a sinking feeling and cleared her throat. “Okay, let’s get started. I know it’s been tough the past few weeks, and I appreciate your hard work and patience. I promise I’m actually a lot better at this.” The quiet laughter lifted a weight she hadn’t been aware of, and she smiled. “So what do you have for me?”
Tiffany, a young, perky brunette, leaned forward with a grin. “Well, as you know, NHL game attendance has been at an all-time low in warmer climates. What we need is something that will draw a certain demographic — the biggest one for hockey games. Steve came up with it,” Perky paused mid breath to smile at Hammond down the table then met Jacey’s wary stare once more. “And I think it’d be perfect — a dance team.”
Her face went blank, and she blinked. “A what?” Nealy cringed beside her but tried to cover it with an encouraging smile. It didn’t work.
“
Dance
team! It’ll be great! We’ll call them the Lady Sinners, and they can do small, choreographed numbers between plays and periods. The audience will eat it up.”
Or throw up.
“How can there be cheerleaders in hockey?”
“Not
cheerleaders
,” Perky insisted. “A
dance
team. They’re getting more and more popular. We already have the Ice Girls, who clean the ice and help Sinbad pass out T-shirts during games, but we need a real dance team.”
Jacey squeezed out a painful smile and was about to reply when Nealy’s sharp little elbow nudged her side, making her straighten in her seat and regain a cloak of professionalism. “That’s certainly an idea. But I don’t think — ”
“Tiffany does have a point,” Nealy chimed in, her voice hesitant.
Jacey gave her an
Et tu, Brute?
look, but her head coach shrugged. “Given our situation, we have to try anything that could draw more people. As much as I hate to admit it, the … dance team … would likely get more butts in the seats. Our investors have been increasingly insistent about that.”
Heads nodding around the table confirmed that assessment.
As if I don’t know.
Jacey stealthily released a slow breath. “I suppose we can give it a shot.”
“Great!” Tiffany’s perpetual smile pumped up the wattage, and she jotted down a few notes. “I’ll run an ad in the paper for tryouts next Saturday.”
Great.
“So … anything else?”
“There’s the bachelor auction,” Hammond offered.
She must have looked confused because Nealy filled in the blanks. “Every year we pick a handful of players to auction off on dates. It usually brings in a lot of money for charity. I spoke to the guys, and most were willing … ”
“Except … ?”
“Phlynn. He’s never done the auctions — doesn’t like them. But I think it’s especially important that he participates this year.”
Jacey nodded her agreement. If Phlynn were seen out with other women, it’d take the speculation away from her. But apparently there was more because Nealy went quiet. “And?”
“I think it would be best if you talked to him. Ultimately, you’re his boss. He’ll have to listen.”
She held back a wince. The idea of convincing Carter to go on a date with another woman left a bad taste in her mouth. Nealy seemed to sense it.
“It’s important. You’ve met the Phlynn-addicts. With their unlimited resources, it could mean a lot of money. This particular charity is a sponsor favorite. We do well there, we exist for another year.”
“I’ll talk to him.”
• • •
“No.”
“Yes.”
Carter narrowed his eyes and tried to stand. “No. I’m drawing the line. You are
not
auctioning me off to the highest bidder.”
Jacey pushed him back down. “I can, and I am.” She folded her arms under her chest, and sat on the edge of her desk, facing him. He tried not to look at her breasts. Then he tried not to look at her legs. He must have failed because she toed his shin. Hard. “It’s for our biggest sponsor’s favorite charity, and it’ll raise community awareness of the team. Raised awareness means raised game attendance, means you have a job for another season.”
“If I don’t move to another team.”
For a second, her face fell, and guilt hit him in the gut. He didn’t mean to say it. It just came out. Okay, it was true, but the hurt in her eyes made him regret it.
Time to change tactics
. He stood up and leaned into her space, close enough to breathe in her soft, sweet perfume. Too late, he realized his proximity plan might work against him. “Are you telling me you’re perfectly okay pushing another woman on me?”
Her mouth closed, and she swallowed visibly.
Gotcha
. Or at least, he thought so until she curled a hand around his neck, swayed forward … and pushed him back into his seat.
“Yep. If it means my team survives, I guess I’ll just have to deal with it.”
“Come on, have mercy. The other guys got to volunteer.”
“You’re the captain. It’s important that you front this. Aside from that … you’ll bring in the most money.” She said the last part under her breath.
He smiled and held her gaze. “What was that?”
“You have the biggest fan base. Crazy, rich women who are obsessed with you and who will pay pretty much anything to get you alone for the night. I can’t imagine why you’re complaining.”
His amusement faded, and he felt the heat creep up his neck to his ears. “Hey. I can get my own dates. And despite what you might have heard, I don’t jump everything that moves.”
“For a forward, you’re pretty defensive.”
He didn’t blink.
“Come on, that was a good joke.”
The barest smile broke through. He tried to squelch it but too late.
“I never said you jumped everything that moves. I am saying that it’s just one night of dinner and dancing for a good cause. Man up and smile pretty.” She grinned.
He felt his lips curl back.
“Or you can make that face. I’ve met your fan club, and they would fight over your decaying carcass. Which is my Plan B if you don’t agree to this.”
That grudging smile flickered again despite his best efforts to hold it back. It was impossible to stay angry when she looked at him like that. He liked it better when her father owned the team. He had no problem saying no to Vaughn Senior. He’d become a much worse negotiator since Jacey arrived.
“So?”
He held the staring contest for another beat. “Fine. But you owe me.”
“Story of my life.” Jacey pushed off the desk and walked behind it to organize the papers in her briefcase. When he stood and moved to the door, she looked up as if just remembering something. “Thank you.”
Her appreciation seemed genuine, and he smiled, not having expected it. “You’re welcome. But that thing you owe me? You’re not gonna like it.”
Monday, October 17th
Jacey jerked awake to the sound of the refrigerator door slamming. Even though the kitchen was half a mile from her bedroom, the cavernous house carried the sound. Her heart beat double-time, and she glanced at the alarm clock. Six
A.M.
on the dot. She had him figured out — his pattern, anyway. Madden would stay out all night and sneak in some time around six to shower before work. He might have a great poker face, but his habits made him predictable.
She slid out of bed, tiptoed out of her room, and peeked around the corner. Madden’s footsteps echoed in the foyer below. She snuck down the hall to his room and hid just inside against the wall. He barely made a sound as he came up the marble steps, but when he pushed open his door and she pushed back, he yelped and jumped sideways.
“Gotcha.” She flipped on the lights, and they blinked in the brightness.
“Jace. Jeez, you wanna scare me to death?”
His voice wavered, and at first she chalked it up to the shock of her ambush. But when her eyes adjusted to the light, she saw his split lip and the tense set of his shoulders. “Madden. Where have you been?”
“Good morning to you too. And when did you become my wife?”
“You’re not avoiding me anymore. This stops now. God, look at you. I know you’re in trouble. Talk to me.”
His mouth fell open, and she could see him mentally flip through his bullshit index, looking for the right excuse. It took longer than usual, and he didn’t bother to keep his expression blank. She could see the anxiety just below the surface. With someone as self-contained as Madden, that wasn’t reassuring.
“Maddie. You need help. Let me.”
Something cracked in his façade then — she saw it in his eyes. His lower lip quivered as he closed his mouth, looked down at the plush carpet, and pushed a hand through his hair. She set a hand on his arm. He lifted his reddened face, and tears glossed his eyes.
“I’m sorry, Jace. I really messed up this time.”
Her heart froze, and her stomach fell, but she maintained her practiced calm and pulled him to sit with her on the edge of the bed. He released a deep breath and stared at the floor.
“I thought I could handle it. I really did. It’d been so long since … Anyway. I went into Harrah’s a few weeks after we moved here. I just wanted to have a few drinks, take in the scenery, you know? I met some girl, and she wanted to try the roulette table. I thought I could stand back, watch. But then she asked me to call a number. It won. I thought — well you’ve heard it before. That was the beginning. I started playing other tables, other casinos. It happened so fast, Jace. And the more I lost, the more tempting it was to just win it back.”
Yes, she’d heard that exact story before. The words were so familiar she could have recited them verbatim along with him. An outside observer might feel sympathy, and she did, but other feelings crowded her conscience and demanded recognition: disappointment, anger, frustration, sadness. And even with all that emotion boiling in her chest, her voice sounded hollow when she finally spoke. “How much?”
“Everything. Everything I have. I’ve been … taking my paychecks to the poker tables instead of the loan sharks. I thought — I was so sure I could make it all back and more. I had a couple really hot streaks, Jace. I almost did it. You gotta believe me. I thought I had it under control. And then … ”
Jacey stared at the wall. She could feel him watching her, and she held back the tears that threatened. Her heart broke for him like it had so many times before, but enough was enough. At that moment, the immense responsibility on her shoulders pushed down. She stood. “I’ll help you. This time. We’ll work something out. But if you don’t clean up your life, Madden, I will fire you, and you can fend for yourself. It’s time to grow up.” She left without looking at him. His pain, shame, and conviction were real. But they were getting old. And for once, Madden wasn’t her biggest problem.
Saturday, October 22nd
Jacey closed her eyes and counted to ten. She hoped against hope it would all be a dream. A big elbow nudged her side, and she peeked out of one eye. Nope. Still real.
“Come on. This is fun.” Carter, grinning like a kid opening presents on his birthday, sat slouched in his folding chair to her right. To her left sat Perky Brunette … Tiffany … ready and raring to go.
“This is stupid,” she whispered back. Before them, fifty women paraded around in various spandex blends with poofed hair and Tammy Faye Baker makeup on a large carpet square spread over the ice. She cringed to see that the Phlynn-addicts were in attendance. Of course they were. Tiffany waited for her to say something, but everything she wanted to say … well, she couldn’t.
Tiffany shrugged and raised her high voice over the excited chatter. “We’d like to thank you for coming to the try-outs for the Lady Sinners. We’ll call you one by one. There are fifteen spots. If we like what we see, we’ll get back to you by tomorrow. First up, Shelly Clark.”
Shelly bounced into view, and the others moved back in a semi-circle around her. Tiffany leaned over to turn on the MP3 player, and Shelly jumped into action. Jacey bit the inside of her lip trying like hell not to laugh. That would
not
be professional.
Shelly kept a clownish smile in place the whole time as she sprang around and shook things Jacey was embarrassed to witness. Heat filled her cheeks as she tried not to look away, and Carter smirked, clearly amused. Shelly’s big finish involved a back flip and jazz hands. Tiffany turned the music off. “Thank you, Shelly.” Jacey made herself nod in agreement.
Twenty-four displays of frightening pep later, the judges called a break and brought their lunches to the press box. Tiffany finished in record time and excused herself before Jacey even took a sip of diet soda.
“Where do you think she went?” Carter unwrapped his tuna salad sub and ate half in one bite.
“Well, she just ate a piece of pizza. I’m guessing her digestive system’s in shock. She’s been drinking seaweed and lemon juice in a bottle for the last week.”
He paused with his sandwich halfway to his mouth, and she laughed. He looked like he’d caught a peek behind a door of womanhood he’d never ever intended.
Jacey set down her ham and Swiss, rubbed her face, and groaned. “Don’t make me go back down there.”
“But, ‘it’ll be good for game attendance.’ Besides, I’m having a great time.”
“Of course you are. Every one of those women undressed you with her eyes. They didn’t even look at Tiffany or me.”
He did a slow body scan of her from hairline to hemline and smiled into his sandwich. “Their loss.”
“Ugh. It seems degrading. Don’t you think it’s degrading?”
“Of course it is. That’s why men will flood the games and bring their friends.”
She hit him on principle but had to silently concede that point.
Sitting through the next twenty-five tryouts, she played mental games to pass the time. What would she rather do than be here? Go to the dentist for a cavity. Hold a three-hour press conference with no security to keep the reporters at bay. Gargle glass shards. When that got old, she ran through the players on her roster, seeing if she could remember each man and his number. When she got to Phlynn, she looked at him and smiled. He glanced at her from the corner of his eye but turned his attention back to the spandex sirens.