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Kurt drummed his fingers on the bar. “You’re right, you know,” he said. “It’s a dilemma. I mean, let’s face it. They treat us like commodities. It’s about money and performance. Nothing else.”
“That’s exactly what management is all about. Greedy bastards.”
“And that’s who you’re dealing with here. Part of me says, screw it, don’t say a word until after the deal’s done and then they’ll have to cope. Especially since you’re feeling the prognosis is good, and your pitching is damn good right now.” He sighed. “But then there’s the other part of me—the part that still hears my mama’s lectures about doing what’s right—that says, speak up.”
Brad took it all in, thankful he’d talked to Kurt. Just telling someone felt good.
It had felt good telling Amanda, too. Having her to share his struggles had given him a boost and helped his perspective. But she was gone now. Without consciously doing so, Brad looked toward her table, hoping for a glimpse of one of her smiles. Unfortunately, Becker looked up at that moment. The kid smiled and waved, a satisfied expression on his face. Damn it, right now the kid had everything he wanted. Becker had his whole career in front of him and he had Amanda by his side.
Brad sat back, startled by that thought. He realized the truth that had been nudging at him. He wanted—no, needed—more than another five years in the game. He needed Amanda by his side for the ride.
Not sure what to do with this new information, he pushed to his feet and gave Kurt a nod. “Check you later, man.”
Brad needed some time alone to think.
21
AMANDA WOKE UP one morning groggy and disoriented. Where was she? Right. Chicago. Second round of the playoffs. She stumbled to her hotel room door and grabbed the paper that had been slid underneath. She plopped down on the bed and reached for the phone, intent on ordering coffee. But the front page of the entertainment section distracted her before she could place her order. There was a huge picture of Tony with a woman hanging all over him.
“Hello?”
Amanda realized she was still holding the phone. “Oh. Yes. Hello. I mean, I’ll call back.”
She dropped the receiver on the base and pressed her hand to her forehead. Jack’s conversation with Laura in the L.A. airport rushed through Amanda’s mind. He’d set Tony up. She bet a million bucks he was behind those photos. He’d been out partying with the guys almost nightly, so he’d had plenty of opportunity. And he’d promised Laura he would prove Tony was no good.
Jack’s ambition knew no boundaries if he’d go to these lengths to convince Laura to confide in him. And Amanda could do nothing to ward off this disaster. Relations between her and Laura had been strained ever since she’d suggested Laura dump Tony and find someone else. Why hadn’t Amanda kept her mouth shut? She could have put up with Laura’s obsessing.
I did this, she thought, as she grabbed the phone and asked for Tony’s room. Her recent story about the steroids issue had hit the stands, no doubt applying performance pressure on Jack. Kevin had been on top of the world, since his source claimed Jack was feeling the heat.
After several rings a sleepy-sounding Tony answered.
“Tony. It’s Amanda. What room are you in?”
“1050. Why?”
“We need to talk.”
“I’m asleep,” he complained.
“Grab today’s paper and check out the entertainment page. You need to see me. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
Exactly twenty minutes later, Amanda was knocking on Tony’s door. She’d tossed on some clothes and done the minimum to look presentable. Before leaving her room she’d tried phoning Laura’s cell but had only gotten through to voice mail.
No answer. A door farther down the hallway opened and Brad appeared. Amanda’s heart fell to her feet. He stared and blinked, as if he thought he was seeing a ghost.
Finally, Tony answered and Amanda moved forward, eager to avoid Brad. Days had passed since they’d spoken, and now was not the time to get reunited.
The minute Amanda entered the hotel room Tony started to rant in a mix of Italian and English. He wore jeans and nothing else. “I’m screwed. Laura—”
Amanda’s gaze went to the bed, where a woman lay naked but for a well-placed sheet. She waved at Amanda.
“Holy shit, Tony!” Amanda cut her hands in the air. “Why is she here?”
“She doesn’t have a ride.”
“Get her a cab.”
“Hey,” the woman protested. “Who do you think you are?”
Amanda answered the woman but spoke to Tony. “I’m the one who can save your ass. Meet me in the café downstairs in five minutes.” She paused. “Alone.”
Before Amanda could leave a knock sounded on the door. “Great. Just what we need. More company.”
Tony frowned and moved to the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Brad, Tony. Let me in.”
