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Viktor sighed. "There are still things to discuss, I see, and we will do it over food. One hopelessly stubborn person is all I can deal with at a time, Coach Calebow. Won't you share a meal with us?"
"I don't think so."
"Please. For the greater good of football. And the victorious future of the Chicago Stars."
Dan took his time considering before he gave an abrupt nod. "All right."
Viktor beamed like a proud father, fluffed Phoebe's hair, and nudged her toward the kitchen. "Do your woman's work. We men are hungry."
Phoebe opened her mouth to tell him off, but then clamped it shut. Not only was Viktor her friend, but he was smart about people, and she had to trust him. She sashayed forward, punishing the football coach by putting an extra swing to a pair of hips he'd never get a chance to touch.
As the men entered the navy and white kitchen behind her, Pooh went berserk, but since the dog concentrated her attention on Viktor instead of the coach, Phoebe didn't need to go to the rescue.
Ten minutes later the three of them were sitting on slatted white metal cafe chairs at the matching round bistro table that stood at the end of her kitchen. She served the Korean food on glazed white porcelain plates, each of them painted with a stylized royal blue carp that was the same color as the woven place mats. Only the fact that she had left the beer in bottles so Viktor could get his macho fix ruined the blue and white color scheme.
"Pulgogi is the Korean form of barbecue," Viktor explained, after the men had finished an incomprehensible discussion of the blitz. He picked up another thin strip of sesame-marinated meat with his fork. "Phoebe doesn't like it, but I'm absolutely addicted. What do you think?"
"I doubt it's going to put McDonald's out of business, but it's not too bad."
Phoebe had been covertly watching Dan for subtle signs of homophobia and was disappointed when he showed none because he wasn't giving her an excuse to throw him out. She studied his face. He certainly wasn't as good-looking as many of Viktor's friends. There was that small bump at the bridge of his nose, the thin white scar on a chin. But still, she would be lying to herself if she denied that he was an incredibly attractive man. He could even be charming when he tried, and several times she'd had to force herself not to smile at his offbeat sense of humor.
Viktor set down his fork and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "Now, Dan, perhaps you wish to share with me the reasons for your dispute with my Phoebe. I assure you, she is the dearest of persons."
"Must be an acquired taste. Like that Korean meat."
Viktor sighed. "Dan, Dan. This won't do, you know. She is quite sensitive. If the two of you are to work together, you must arrive at some sort of truce."
She opened her mouth to tell Viktor it was hopeless, only to feel her friend's hand clamp down hard on her thigh.
"The problem is, Viktor, we're not going to be working together because your Phoebe won't take any responsibility for her football team."
Viktor patted Phoebe's arm. "It is fortunate, Dan, that she is leaving you alone. She knows nothing of sports."
The air was so thick with the pollution of male patronization that she could barely breathe, but she held her peace.
Dan nudged Pooh off his right foot. The poodle resettled on his left one. "She doesn't need to know anything about sports. She just needs to fire the current general manager, hire somebody with more experience, and sign the papers that are put in front of her." Briefly, he outlined the difficulties the Stars had been having since Bert's death.
Viktor, who had a good head for business and was notoriously tight with a dollar, frowned. "Phoebe, pet, I'm afraid he has a point."
"You know the terms of my father's will. He left me the Stars only so he could teach me a lesson. I'm not playing his game."
"There are some games you can't walk away from, Miz Somerville, without hurting a lot of people."
"I'm not going to lose much sleep over a bunch of grown men crying in their beer because they aren't winning football games."
"Then how about the staff people who are going to lose their jobs? Our ticket sales are way down from last year, and that means layoffs. How about their families, Miz Somerville. Will you lose sleep over them?"
He'd made her feel like a selfish worm. She'd been so wrapped up in her own feelings that she hadn't bothered to consider the effect her decision to turn her back on the Stars might have on others. If only she could find a way to stay true to herself without hurting anyone else. Several seconds ticked by while she considered her options. Finally, she released an indolent sign.
"All right, Mr. Calebow. You've absolutely devastated me. I'm not going to Chicago, but you can have the papers shipped to me here, and I'll sign them."
"I'm afraid that's not going to work, ma'am. In case you forgot, you fired me. If you want me back, you're going to have to meet a few of my conditions."
"What conditions?" She regarded him warily.
He leaned back in his chair like Big Daddy after a seven-course dinner, except Big Daddy was fat and ugly instead of a hard-muscled athlete with a powerful chest and a lethal grin.
"It's like this. I want you in the Stars' business offices by noon on Tuesday to sign those three contracts. Then we'll sit down with Steve Kovak, your director of player personnel, and discuss qualified candidates for the general manager's job. You'll hire one of them by the end of the week, and from then until the team's no longer your responsibility, you'll show up for work like everybody else and sign the papers he puts in front of you."
