Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
ROXANNE LEANED against the sparkling red Corvette on the crisp, sunny early December day in the parking lot of Hellenic College.
She stood outside the gym waiting for Brian.
There were only a few other cars left in the lot, including Brian’s black LandRover SUV.
Roxanne shook her head. It looked like a hit man’s car.
It suited him perfectly now that she thought of it, between his New York accent, his defiant cigarette-smoking and his take-no-prisoners attitude.
The gymnasium door swung open and Roxanne automatically straightened her stance against the car, unfolding her arms. But it wasn’t Brian.
It was the Celtics trainer, Mike Lavola.
She returned to her pose, hugging the faux fur collar of her black leather bomber against her neck.
She only had a white cotton blouse underneath.
She should have worn a sweater. Looking down at her short black leather skirt, black stockings and over-the-knee boots, she admitted to herself that her attire was hardly suitable to the “business” meeting she told Brian she had planned.
But she needed every advantage she could muster. All bets were off now.
Today was Sunday. She had promised Laura she would deliver Brian as the official spokesperson by tomorrow and she meant to keep that promise.
That morning she had worked on drawing up the papers for Brian’s signature—after much consultation with Al regarding contract law.
It was true, Roxanne thought, squinting through the sunlight, you can learn something new every day.
The gym door banged open and this time Brian and Dave stepped outside.
Roxanne caught Brian’s eye immediately and he walked toward her, looking her and her car over with appreciation and his lopsided grin in place.
Roxanne’s automatic response was to smile.
Dave followed Brian after he saw where Brian was headed.
Brian came to a stop a few feet in front of her and let out a long, loud wolf whistle, then moved closer.
“You do make an inviting picture. You ever think about doing ads to sell these cars?” he suggested. Roxanne laughed and he continued. “They asked me to do a Corvette ad once and I turned them down. But I could never have sold as many cars for them as you could.”
Dave nodded in agreement and let out a sigh.
“Would you like to join us for lunch, Dave?” Roxanne asked with a sincere smile, almost hoping he would. Dave shot his eyebrows up in surprise.
“No thanks. My wife’s expecting me home for lunch. Maybe another time—my treat.”
“It’s a date.”
“Don’t tell my wife that.” Dave laughed over his shoulder as he headed toward the Jeep Cherokee parked next to Brian’s car. Brian placed a hand on either side of her, bracing himself against the car.
“Are you sure this is a business lunch?” His grin was still in place, but his eyes only half hid the fiery blue blaze. Roxanne gazed up at his face, her eyes drawn to his.
“Let’s put it this way: I do have some business to take care of with you, but it won’t take long.
The rest of my afternoon is yours.” She parted her lips slightly with her head tilted backward.
She didn’t know if he would kiss her, but she invited him.
She couldn’t remember ever being more enthralled with a man.
The thudding loudness in her veins as her blood pumped through was an exhilarating feeling she wished she could capture and hold forever.
At the same time, she knew that was as impossible as capturing this man, entirely.
The sigh that she let out came as a surprise to her and it caused Brian’s brows to arch.
“I was about to commit a cardinal sin and drag you away to my bedroom for the afternoon—the business and the game be damned.” He sighed as if with regret.
She didn’t believe him.
“But I came to my senses in the nick of time. I’m rather proud of myself. Maybe some of my sanity is returning.” Brian pushed himself back from the car without touching her and folded his arms across his chest, still firing his blazing eyes at her.
“I’d still be careful if I were you. I have a lot more weapons in my arsenal—if I wanted to use them.” She turned and opened her car door, gesturing for him to get in the passenger side.
He shook his head before he moved from the spot. “I’m doomed.”
She drove them to a quiet restaurant, The Colorado Grill in Brookline, not far from the gym. They were shown to the table she had reserved earlier. The hostess left their menus and Roxanne lifted her briefcase onto the table, popped it open, and pulled out a folder and two pens.
“What’s this?”
“The business I told you about. Do you want to sign on the dotted line now or would you rather I explain what signing first?”
“You want me to trust you?”
Roxanne laughed at his mock indignation.
At least she thought it was a mock. “That would be asking a bit much. Okay, here’s the deal.
This is a contract in which you agree to be the public spokesperson for a campaign soliciting donations for the Dr. Oki Fund—a special fund for children’s medical research in the area of burn and trauma treatment.
It’s the program that Lindy is receiving treatment from.
The contract period is from now until May 30th.
“You would agree to make a number of public appearances on behalf of the Fund and no less than two television commercials, which would have to be shot by the end of February.” She finished speaking.
She never took her eyes off his stony face.
She turned the contract toward him and flipped it open to the clipped page for his signature.
She held the pen out to him, concentrating on keeping her hand steady.
She felt her stomach roiling, but she didn’t flinch.
He sat, not making a move to take the pen from her, not looking at the document in front of him, but at her.
She stared back at him, careful to remain businesslike.
She was prepared to have to persuade him, although she hoped he would be agreeable to it without more than her reference to Lindy’s treatment.
But from his unsmiling face and the expressionless eyes, she knew he was going to put up a fight.
“What? Are you fucking crazy? The only reason I don’t stand up and walk out of here right now is that I’m damned curious to know what the hell you think you’re doing.
You think because my daughter is in your damned hospital you can suck me into this fucking fund-raising racket?
” He took a deep breath and looked away.
“Besides—I came here in your God damned car.”
She smiled, but he remained expressionless. She supposed that was better than a scowl of anger on top of his angry words. But then she remembered this was his game face; the face he wore to war; the face he used when he played to win. She searched her mind for what to say to him.
“I’m not crazy, Brian. And I’m not trying to take advantage of you. I’m desperate.” She didn’t whine. She didn’t embellish. She didn’t complain. She only stated the bare fact of the matter. It was all she had.
His face fell into his hands as he leaned forward. He lifted his head after a moment. The blaze of his eyes burned directly at hers. She took a quick breath at the intensity of his focus, his taut look, the clench of his jaw.
“Fuck! I’m fucked. Do you know what you’re asking—no forcing—me to do?
I can’t say no because somewhere, deep down, I must have some decency left in me.
But it was buried so long ago even I’m surprised it’s still there.
Shit. Do you know what you’re asking? This fucking fund drive of yours goes smack through the whole fucking season all the way through the play-offs!
How the hell am I going to make appearances? ”
“Other athletes do it all the time,” she insisted.
“I’m not ‘other athletes.’ I’m having a hard enough time getting in to see my own fucking daughter. God damn, Roxanne.” He paused and looked around them and took a deep breath before he continued. “Let me just give you the fucking money.” His eyes looked wild and imploring.
Her throat tightened. She’d never seen him like this before. Now he was the desperate one and she didn’t understand why. A ball of vile rose to clog her already tight throat. She couldn’t speak, could barely breathe.
A plate clattered to the floor somewhere. She became aware of her surroundings again. She took some stabilizing breaths and lowered her shaky hand. She gathered her poise to speak.
“Do you have twelve million dollars handy?” she asked quietly.
“Fuck. I’d have to sell most of my investments and probably at a loss.
” He looked away from her now, rubbing his chin.
He appeared calmer. She felt her face flush with surprised shame that she’d asked for a piece of him when she realized he would seriously consider giving her millions of dollars rather than time.
He muttered one more curse, grabbed the pen from the table, and scrawled his name across the signature line.
Despite having witnessed the anguish it cost him, she smiled. Her racing heart slowed to normal. Whatever mysterious reasons he had for his battle with himself, she felt strangely proud of him. Maybe she could get him to put out more effort for his daughter.
“Now get this God damned thing out of my face. And don’t talk to me about it until you have to. I don’t even want to think how much of myself I just signed away.”
“Don’t worry. It won’t take much time…”
“Time? You think that’s all it is?
Roxanne leaned back in her seat and opened her mouth, then closed it again. She thought for a moment. It wasn’t about time, was it? She had enough time to do both her jobs, but it was something else that was needed besides time. Energy? More than that. Commitment—emotional commitment.