Playing for Keeps (12 page)

When the speaker wrapped things up, she lurched out of her corner, knowing she must look ridiculous. All she wanted in the world was to call her father, but instead, like a robotic idiot, she had attended the next meeting on her schedule despite knowing Frank would be there. Not that it mattered. He ignored her completely, sitting with his team and joking about the latest additions to the B-pool.

It was a short meeting, and even though she was drained, she forced herself to go straight to the personnel department, where she had been ushered into the office of the human resources expert. The woman had asked all the right questions—did he touch you? make an off-color joke? proposition you? threaten you? offer a quid pro quo for sexual favors? When Erica just stammered, the expert nodded sternly, then proceeded to explain the realities of the business world.

“Everyone knows Frank can be obnoxious. That’s not harassment, Ms. McCall, that’s personality. You need to grow a backbone. And do it quickly. The only person you can hurt with this complaint is yourself.”

Too upset to cry, Erica had left a note for her supervisor, explaining she was sick and was going home. Then she had huddled in an easy chair in front of the TV for another full day because she actually
was
sick by that time. Mostly sick to her stomach over her own behavior.

After that, she had pulled it together, but May and Jenna had noticed and—thank God—were relentless in their friendship. And so Erica had tried to explain what had happened, but in truth, she couldn’t remember a word of Frank’s endless harangue. All she knew for a fact was that he hadn’t touched her, hadn’t propositioned her, hadn’t demanded a quid pro quo.

He had just made her skin crawl. Made her feel helpless. Humiliated. And somehow, at the very core of it, that was all
her
fault.

Now she sat alone on her birthday and flipped open her laptop to stare at the tiny icon labeled
Training Session
. She didn’t click on it. She hadn’t done so since that awful week, and never planned on viewing it again. But she would keep it forever to remind her of two things: first, she had been right to complain about him; and second, May was the best friend anyone, anywhere, had ever had. Because May in her genius had gotten hold of the professional recording of the session, had isolated Erica’s position in the corner, had filtered out all other sound, including the Q and A participants, and had produced a grainy but intelligible account of what had transpired between her and Frank.

Even then, Erica had watched herself in horror, ashamed of her slumped shoulders, her silence, her submissive, pleading, downcast eyes. “My God,” she had told May. “That HR bitch was right. I’m pitiful.”

And May had told her solemnly, “You’re looking at the wrong face, Erica. Look at
him
.”

And then Erica had seen the truth.

And while she occasionally doubted herself, all she had to do was look at that icon on her laptop screen, and remember the greedy, predatory expression on Frank Garr’s face, and things would be right again.

At least until the self-doubt reemerged.

• • •

On Monday morning, she stopped by Steve’s office to inform him she wouldn’t be attending the screening unless he needed her there. He didn’t seem surprised, and reiterated that Caldwell enjoyed handling this part himself, so no problem on that score. Then he loaded a ton of new work on her, apologizing but also making it clear that it was a compliment in its own way.

The idea that she would never see Johnny again bothered her, with certain parts of her body actually aching for him. She thought about calling him to confirm the bad news, but knew that was just a ploy—an opportunity for him to talk her into showing up. Finding a door and making the most of it.

And for what? So he could dump her for a fertile homemaker three months hence? She liked him, but not
that
much.

And meanwhile, her career was really taking off, so much so that when she saw Caldwell in the hallway that Thursday, she felt relaxed enough—confident enough—to give him a breezy hello rather than her usual, earnest, “Hello, sir.” He responded just as cheerfully, but surprised her by saying, “Looking forward to Tuesday?”

“Sir?”

He laughed. “Don’t tell me you forgot. It’s the Lager Storm screening. And you’re our secret weapon, aren’t you? The girl Johnny Spurling can’t say ‘no’ to.”

Her feet took root right there on the spot, and she stared after him as he strode to his office at the far end of the hallway. On impulse she even rubbed her ear, doubting whether she’d heard him correctly.

After all these weeks of worrying that she had endangered her job by flirting with the talent, was this guy actually suggesting that
was
her role?
The girl Johnny Spurling couldn’t say ‘no’ to?
Did that actually sum up her contribution?

Without thinking it through, she walked up to his door and rapped on it forcefully.

Chapter 6

“Enter at your own risk,” Caldwell called out, still cheerful.

She took a deep breath, then pushed open the door and gave him an apologetic smile. “Sorry to bother you, sir. But do you have a minute?”

He could have said “Yes.”

That would have been fine.

Or he could have said “No,” and that would have been fine too.

But to her chagrin, he seemed conflicted, as though regretting his open-door policy.

“Certainly,” he managed to tell her finally. “What’s on your mind, Erica?”

“Is it okay if I close the door?”

And there it was again. He felt trapped. And in that instant, she flashed back on another day, weeks earlier, when she had been summoned here by Caldwell and the agency’s attorney, who offered the infamous settlement deal.

She had been so nervous that day she hadn’t really noticed how uncomfortable her boss had been. But seeing the same look on his face now, she recognized it instantly. Was he actually afraid to be alone with her? Afraid she’d charge him with sexual harassment or worse?

Surely the decent move was to excuse herself. Let him off the hook. But she closed the door instead, then walked over to the guest chair and sat down. “Sorry to bother you, sir. But it’s important.”

He nodded, his posture rigid. “Go on.”

“Okay, well . . .” She tried to smile. “I’m just going to blurt this out. Because I’m so confused.”

His expression softened. “What’s wrong? Did you and the quarterback have a fight?”

“Oh, my God,” she whispered. “That’s exactly what I mean. I’m not dating Johnny Spurling. But even if I were, it would be because I
like
him. Not to advance my career. I can’t believe you think I’d do it to—well, just to keep him happy.”

“Erica—”

“And it’s not just that,” she continued unhappily. “I’m getting such mixed signals. Like it’s part of my job to seduce him. But if I seduce him, I look like a slut and end up
hurting
my career. It’s like I can’t win!” She was gesturing like a wild woman but didn’t know how to stop. “What happened with Frank wasn’t workplace flirting. It was horrible. I know I didn’t handle it well at the time, and I probably shouldn’t have settled it the way I did—”

“Erica?”

“What?”
she demanded, then she winced in apology. “Sorry. I got carried away.”

He eyed her directly. “Since you’re being blunt, I’ll do the same. I’ve been confused about this too. It would be laughable if it weren’t so painful.”

She licked her lips. “I’m lost.”

“Think about it. Someone on my staff sexually harassed you—”

“Allegedly,” she reminded him, mostly out of habit.

“Bullshit. I saw the video. And I should have disciplined Frank that same day. But instead I took the easy way out.”

She sat back, truly stunned. “Wow.”

“I thought I dodged a bullet, especially when your idea for Lager Storm turned into such a winner. And then when you and Spurling hit it off the way you did,” he said with a sheepish sigh, “it was like Christmas came early. But I would never expect you to do something like that for an account. It just seemed like another gift.
You
were happy, the client was happy, the talent was happy.
Everyone
was happy.”

“So it wasn’t my imagination? You really did egg me on? Whew.” She gave him a warm smile. “It seemed like you were encouraging it from the start. But not in a bad way. Just permissive, I guess.”

“That’s exactly how it was.” He leaned forward and adopted a bold, managerial tone. “Date him or don’t date him. I don’t give a rat’s ass. I promise it won’t affect your job either way.”

She laughed. “That uncomplicates things for sure. Now let me do the same for you. You handled the harassment incident perfectly, at least from my perspective. You were affirming of my discomfort when you easily could have repeated the party line—that I was being oversensitive. I appreciated that, sir, especially because I could see that your lawyer was dying each time you apologized.”

“You deserved those apologies. Frank’s behavior was reprehensible. Like I said, I just wish I had disciplined him on the spot.”

“I think he
feels
disciplined.”

Caldwell exhaled sharply. “So we’re good?”

“Yes, sir. We’re definitely good. And just for the record,” she added, trying to sound casual despite the pounding of her heart, “I might go out with John Spurling a few times. Just for fun, nothing serious. But it won’t be work-related.”

“I should hope not,” he said with a chuckle. “I’m not even sure what that would look like.”

She laughed. “Me either.”

“So does this mean I’ll see you at the screening or not? I’m fine either way.”

“I’ll be there,” she promised, adding to herself,
Just try and stop me now
.

• • •

She was tempted to give Johnny the news right away, but surprising him would be more fun, so she bided her time. She knew Steve wouldn’t want to travel to Portland ahead of time, since it was his anniversary and she had helped him plan a romantic candlelight dinner with Josh. Caldwell was another story, but he cleared things up when he told her he’d be in Los Angeles until early Tuesday morning and would meet her in Portland at ten a.m.

She finally made the call to Johnny on Sunday night. Since the Lancers game was scheduled for Monday Night Football, she pictured him home, maybe even in bed early, resting up. Little did he know how much rest he was going to need.

He picked up on the first ring. “Hey! Everything okay?”

“Everything’s great. How about you? Ready to crush it tomorrow night?”

“Yeah.” His voice dipped into lower tones. “I’ve been thinking about you. A lot.”

Excitement shivered down her spine. “Me too. Plus, I’ve been thinking about the game. I know it’s last-minute, but could you possibly get me a ticket?”

“Huh?”

“It’s in Portland, right? And you know me, I always arrive the night before a big meeting so I can get my beauty sleep. So I’ll be in town, and I’d love to see the game.”

“You’ll be in town,” he repeated, as though he couldn’t quite track the conversation. “Yeah, I can get tickets. No problem. How many do you need?”

“My bosses are flying in Tuesday morning. So it’s just me.” Taking a page from his playbook, she softened her voice seductively. “I’ll get a room at the Ashton. Just leave the ticket at will call, and when I know my room number, I’ll text it to you. If you have any energy left after the game, maybe you can stop by.”

Dead silence ensued. Then he repeated forcefully, “You’re gonna text me your room number? And you want me to stop by?”

“Only if you’re free. And not too, too late because like I said, I want to be rested for the screening.”

“Only if I’m free? Yeah, I think I can manage that.” His low chuckle crackled through the phone. “Murf’s going to the game, so he can drive you there and back. And you can sit with him. After that, he’ll get lost.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather sit by myself. Just another giddy, screaming Lancers fan, drooling over the QB.”

“That sounds hot,” he said, adding reverently, “This is great, Erica.”

“Hey, Johnny, can you hold on a minute? I have to take my panties off.”

“Huh?”

“They’re all wet so I just want to take them off.”

“Fuck, we’re doing
this
too?”

“I don’t know about you, but
I’m
already doing it.”

He chuckled again, but it seemed to stick in his throat, and after that, all he managed to say was “Un-
fucking
-believable.”

• • •

She almost wore her trench coat, just for fun, but opted for comfortable jeans and a blue-and-gray Cal sweatshirt. She noticed several times that he looked up toward her section, which was cheering wildly at the slightest provocation. And while she doubted he could spot her among the masses, he was famous for his vision, so she jumped up and waved each time. Her seat was excellent, but not prominent, and she suspected he had chosen it carefully, giving her a good view while also protecting her anonymity in case Caldwell and the client were watching on TV. And since she had texted him
Ashton room # 315
she knew he was well aware she was in the stands.

She was exactly as promised, a screaming fan, energized by every successful play, booing the opposition fervently. Thanks to a newly purchased pair of compact binoculars, she could watch him every minute he was on the field, so in that sense, it was even better than a big screen at a sports bar. With her heart in her throat she also watched as adorable Sean Decker put the winning touch on the game with an awesome field goal that broke the NFL record for most consecutive successful attempts over fifty yards. The stadium went wild, and so did Erica.

Melding with the crowd as they made their escape, she rushed out through the exit and tried to hail a cab, but it took forever, to the point where she almost decided to ask for Patrick Murphy’s assistance.

But she finally snared a ride and rushed back to the hotel, hoping to beat Johnny to it. There would be a press conference, and postgame interviews, and surely he wouldn’t skip out on those. Would he?