Читать книгу The Love Triangle - Nic Tatano - Страница 7

“Let me get this straight. Your family values candidate, the United States Congressman, who is the paragon of conservatism, gets caught by his wife having an affair with a hooker, who used to be a man in a previous life. But wait, there’s more! Said Congressman was bent over the hooker’s knee being spanked with a riding crop, while he’s wearing a pink tu-tu, and you want to know how we can spin this?” Lexi Harlow shoved her shoulder-length red tangles behind her ears as she stared at the speakerphone.

“Lexi, you’re in charge of our public relations. I thought you might have a suggestion to make this situation disappear.”

She rubbed her temples as she glanced at the one-word front page headline of The New York Post, which featured a cartoon of the Congressman and read Giddyup. It told her that her biggest client was history and serious money problems were on the way. “You wanna make this disappear? Try looking in the Yellow Pages under magicians.”

“Be serious, Lexi. I’m the New York state party chairman and we need to make this go away.”

“Go away? Todd, that barn door has sailed. The Congressman is a national joke. No one can make this go away. He’s toast. And please don’t use the typical politician excuse and call it an error in judgment and have his wife sing the stand-by-your-man tune.”

“How about something saying we’re being a more inclusive party?”

She rolled her emerald green eyes. “Sure, we’ll call it the rainbow coalition for prostitutes. Look, Todd, I like you and have enjoyed working with you. But trust me, this one is un-fixable. Every other PR person in town will tell you the same thing. The guy is radioactive.” She looked up and saw her assistant standing in the doorway. “And I gotta go. My advice to you is to have the man resign and get him off the front page and the late night talk shows before it does more damage to the party and the future candidates you will hopefully send me next year.”

She heard the man sigh. “Lexi, I’m sorry this happened. I know you just started your agency and how much work you put into the campaign. And your work was terrific.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

“If it weren’t so close to election day, I’d get you another account, but everything is set. But I promise I’ll have something for you next year.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, if you do think of anything, give me a call.”

“Sure. Hang in there, Todd. Bye.” She hit the button on her speakerphone, shook her head, leaned back in her chair and stretched out her five-foot-five frame as she turned to her assistant. “What?”

“And good morning to you too.” Chandler, her tall, British, slender thirty-year-old assistant moved into her office, took a seat opposite her desk and studied her face with his pale blue eyes as he swept his mop of sandy hair out of his face. “From your current expression along with the front page of The Post I would surmise there was a significant amount of ammonia covering the rolled bits of grain in your morning meal.”

“Chandler, I know you’re smarter than me and like showing it off, but next time just say you look like someone pissed in your corn flakes.”

He shrugged and offered a slight smile. “This from the woman who just said that barn door has sailed.”

“Fine, point taken. But, my dear assistant, as you no doubt have surmised, we lost our biggest client when the Congressman decided to play Fifty Shades of Politics. I was up all night knowing we were in trouble. Which is why I look like I just had a colonoscopy with an umbrella.”

Chandler slowly nodded. “There was nothing you could do. The Congressman was a bad, bad boy.”

“Yeah, but usually you get spanked after you’re bad. Anyway, the big problem we need to immediately address is how to replace a client who made up more than seventy percent of our income.”

He gave her a soulful look. “Lexi, we’re in this for the long haul. My salary increase can wait, if that will help. Or you can hold back a couple of paychecks.”

“That’s a wonderful gesture, Chandler, but don’t be ridiculous. We’ll find some new clients. And you’re more than my assistant. You’ve become like an extra brother.”

“But if—”

She put up her hand. “End of discussion. We’ll make do. I’ll eat mac and cheese for a month to keep this place afloat. I’ve worked too hard to get this business started and I’m not going to let a kinky client sink it.” A drop of water pinged into the steel bucket in the corner. She looked up at the stained ceiling. “Considering the leaks in this dump, that remark might turn out to be literal. Dammit, if the Congressman had won we would have gotten the bonus and we could have moved to a decent office. Hopefully one where we can’t hear the people upstairs through the air vent.”

“So what’s the game plan?”

“Find some new clients. Plural. I’ve just discovered what happens when you put all your eggs in one basket. You would think a woman who just turned thirty would have learned that already.”

He nodded. “I agree. Multiple small and medium-sized clients would be best. Perhaps you’ll find a few at that conference this afternoon. You’re quite adept at face-to-face interaction.”

She stood up. “Maybe so. But right now I need to think. So I’m going to shoot some hoops.”

“We just lost our biggest client and you’re going to play basketball?”

“Everything becomes perfectly clear to me when I’m doing something mindless. Besides, I need to blow off some steam. I don’t need to approach potential clients or give a talk to a few hundred people when I’m this pissed off. And right now my Irish temper is at DEFCON 1.”

***

Kyle Caruso, known by Kasey to close friends thanks to his initials, laced up his sneakers as he sat on the bench next to his buddies. The weekly basketball game did wonders for his stress levels, especially since the thirty-year-old sports agent refused to deal with clients behaving badly. Million dollar contracts and immaturity did not mix well. The gym was pretty deserted at this time of the morning, the only sounds coming from a woman bouncing a basketball at the other end of the court. He watched her for a moment as he wrapped a headband around his thick black hair, olive green eyes wide as he noted she was nailing every shot with nothing but net. His best friend Jim Baldwin grabbed the seat next to him. “Hey, Jimbo, ready to go?”

“Kasey, we got a problem. Jackson is stuck in court all day. So we only got nine players. We’re one short.”

“Well, shit. Anyone else wandering around the gym?”

He shook his head. “Already checked.” Jim cocked his head at the woman playing at the other end. “How about that redhead. Looks like she’s got a killer jump shot.”

Kyle furrowed his brow as he looked at her. “She’s only a little thing. Might get hurt.”

“You know, at five-seven and one-fifty you’re not exactly LeBron James and we let you play.”

“Very funny.”

“Well, it’s either ask her to join us or one of us sits out. And you know damn well no one wants to sit out.”

“Fine, let’s see if she’ll play.”

The two men got up and headed toward the slender woman, who was totally focused on the basket. Kyle couldn’t help but note she was beyond cute, despite being soaked with sweat, flaming red hair gathered up behind her head, matching headband and a ton of freckles, while her movements were incredibly fluid. “Excuse me…”

She took a shot, made it and turned to face them.

Damn, what spectacular eyes … they look like the Caribbean.

“Yeah?”

Jim took the lead. “We’re short one guy for a game. Wanna join us?”

She mopped her brow. “If you’re short one guy, why you asking me?”

“Cause you look like you’ve got game,” said Jim.

She scrunched up her face a bit as she tapped her chin with one finger. “Let me guess. There aren’t any other men in the gym, right?”

Kyle rolled his eyes and put up his hands in surrender. “Hey, forget it. Sorry we bothered you—”

“No, please forgive the attitude. It’s already been a rough day. Sure, I’ll play.” She moved closer and looked up at him. “But only if this one thinks he can guard me.”

Jim started to laugh. “Ooooh, she’s thrown down the gauntlet. I want Little Red on my team.”

She locked eyes with Kyle for a moment and smiled. “Okay then. Let’s rock.”

Jim stuck out his hand to shake. “He’s Kasey. I’m Jimbo.”

She shook Jim’s hand, then did the same to Kyle. “Nice to meet you guys.”

“And you are?” asked Kyle.

“Didn’t you hear your friend? Just call me Little Red.”

***

The redhead moved toward Kyle as the game started, at one point dribbling between her legs and behind her back, like one of the Harlem Globetrotters, while totally focused on him. He couldn’t help but be impressed as he moved forward to guard her. Her eyes looked at him for a moment, then darted around the court as it was obvious she was going to pass the ball. She raised her hand slightly and he knew she was about to pass to his right. He reached for the ball and found nothing but air as she dribbled behind her back in the other direction and left him in the dust, then pulled up and sank a long three-pointer as his feet got tangled up. He hit the floor and one of his sneakers came off.

Everyone laughed as her teammates moved forward and gave her a high five.

Jim offered a hand to help Kyle off the floor as he put his sneaker back on. “Damn, Little Red faked you out of your shoes.”

Kyle glared at Jim as he took his friend’s hand and stood up, finding the redhead looking at him while she had the ball pressed between her forearm and her side. She didn’t say anything to rub it in, didn’t smile. Just looked at him.

“What?”

She shrugged. “Your ball.” She tossed it to him.

Then gave him a wink.

Okay, the gloves are coming off.

Kyle took the ball out of bounds, then started dribbling up the court. She moved forward to guard him, her arms wide. He stopped and held the ball up over his head, where she couldn’t get it since he guessed she was a couple inches shorter. He turned away for a moment to look for an open teammate—

And she jumped, slapped it out of his hands, headed in the other direction and sank an easy layup shot.

Everyone laughed again.

Jim slapped Kyle on the back. “Never thought I’d see the day when you got your ass kicked by a hundred pound woman.”

***

Kyle sat on the bench after the game, totally exhausted with his head against the cool concrete wall, dripping sweat and out of breath. The redhead had totally wiped the floor with him. He looked over as everyone gathered up their gym bags and headed for the showers. The woman was smiling and laughing as she shook hands with the guys, then headed in his direction.

She stopped right in front of him. “You need some oxygen? Paramedic? CPR?”

“Funny.”

She stuck out her hand. “Hey, I’m kidding. Good game.”

“Yeah, right. Maybe for you.”

“I said good game. You’re supposed to shake the hand of your opponent after we’re done. Unless you’re some sort of sore loser.”

“No. You played great and I admit you kicked my ass.” He shook her hand as he studied her face. “You play in college or something?”

“Nope.”

“High school?”

“Uh-uh. Just the court in the old neighborhood. And I’ve got four brothers well over six feet tall. So I had to learn to shoot three-pointers and control the ball or I was toast.”

“Well, you’re a hell of a player.”

“Thank you.”

“You come here often?” he asked.

“That the best line you can come up with? We’re not in a bar.”

“I didn’t mean it that way—”

“Again, I’m kidding! I like to shoot to blow off steam and, like I said, the day got off to a really bad start. Anyway, this was fun. Hadn’t played an actual game in a while. Thanks for inviting me.” She waved at him. “Well, see ya—”

She started to walk away. “Hey. I didn’t get your name.”

She turned and smiled. “Sure you did. Little Red.” She winked and headed for the women’s locker room.

Jim came over and patted him on the back as they both watched her walk away. “Girl sure had your number today.”

“Yeah. Wish I had hers.”

***

Lexi looked out at the crowd of about two hundred in the large hotel meeting room and grabbed the sides of the podium. “Okay, that’s my take on spin doctoring, and we’ve got a few minutes left, so I’ll be happy to take questions.”

A woman in the front row raised her hand. “You didn’t mention that you handle the PR for Congressman Bensen. How are you going to deal—”

“Handled, past tense. As of this morning, he is no longer my client. There are simply some situations that are not spinnable, if that’s even a word, and this was one of them. I officially cut ties with his campaign this morning. While political accounts can be very lucrative, being associated with a situation like that isn’t worth the money or the trouble. And it wouldn’t do much for my reputation. While all of us in public relations occasionally have to deal with people and companies we don’t particularly like, there are some lines I personally can’t cross. Meanwhile, if there’s a politician in the audience who does not own an outfit from the Joffrey Ballet and doesn’t have anyone going to the whip at the top of the stretch, I’ll be happy to talk to you.”

The crowd laughed as she pointed to a woman in the back with her hand raised. “Yes…”

“Suppose this was your garden variety cheating politician, without the tu-tu and riding crop and all the ridicule that came with that. How would you have handled it?”

“Same outcome. I would have quit. But told his wife to clean him out on the way. Honestly, I have no tolerance for infidelity, personally or professionally. I may be old-fashioned in that respect, but that’s a deal-breaker for me. So there’s no such thing as a garden-variety extra-marital affair. If you’re breaking a sacred vow, which I consider marriage to be, it doesn’t matter if you wanna play prima ballerina or pretend you’re running in the Kentucky Derby while you’re cheating. I realize there have been plenty of politicians who have resurrected their careers after being caught, but I’m not interested in that kind of client. I have to look myself in the mirror at the end of the day. One more question.” She pointed to a very young man in the middle of the auditorium. “Yes.”

“Ms. Harlow, I’m about to graduate with a degree in public relations and I’d like to learn from a real-life spin girl. Can I come work for you?”

The crowd laughed as she smiled. “Now how did you know I needed a nickname? But sadly, young man, I do not have any openings as I run a two-person agency. But that’s the kind of spunk you need to survive in this business. Be bold and believe in yourself. That’s half the battle. And, remember, it is never the wrong time to do the right thing.”

***

Lexi bounded up the stairs to her apartment carrying a grocery bag of goodies. Knocking off work early after a sleepless night and a tough Friday and cooking dinner for her boyfriend would take her mind off the money situation. She’d gotten a great reception at the conference, handed out a ton of business cards and met some possible future clients. Things would get better for her agency.

And people had started calling her Spin Girl. The name had stuck. Hopefully it would get around and help to single her out from her competition.

But right now she desperately needed a hug from Dave. And probably a lot more from the hunky actor on the hot new sitcom who turned her on like no man ever had and was the best-looking guy she’d ever dated. Their two-year relationship was a bright spot in her life, as he had been her oasis when things were going rough for her professionally. Tonight was the night she would ask him to move in with her. Hell, because he had roommates and she lived by herself, he spent most nights at her apartment anyway and had a key to the place. She had two hours to get dinner and herself ready.

She heard voices as she put the key in the door. “Dammit, I left the TV on again.” She opened it and what she saw made her jaw drop along with the groceries.

The television set was off.

The voices were coming from behind the bedroom door. And there was no TV in that room.

Her pulse spiked as she quickly moved to the bedroom, opened the door and found the source of the noise.

Dave, naked, his amazing physique bathed in candlelight. Wrists tied to the bedposts with neckties that she’d given him as gifts.

With a top-heavy blonde she recognized as his co-star straddling him.

Lexi put her hands on her hips as her emotions exploded. “You sonofabitch!”

Dave’s eyes went wide. “Oh, shit! Babe, I can explain. We’re rehearsing a scene—”

“Oh, give me a friggin’ break!”

The blonde quickly pulled the sheets around her as Dave managed to get one arm free and tried to reach over the edge of the bed for his pants.

Lexi was quicker and snatched them off the floor. “Oh, you need these?” She held the slacks in front of him.

“Lexi, please. This means nothing—”

“It means a helluva lot to me. It means you can’t be trusted.” She pointed at the door as her blood reached the boiling point. “Get! Out!”

“Lexi, calm down—”

“Out!”

“Fine, just give me my pants.” He turned to the blonde. “Untie my other wrist.”

Lexi kept her eyes locked on him as she reached behind her and opened the window that led to the fire escape. She held his linen slacks over the burning candle and they went up like a torch. She tossed them out on the fire escape, where they quickly became a ball of flame.

“Dammit, Lexi, there was five hundred bucks in the pocket!”

“Hey, you’re on a hit TV show. Call it money to burn, asshole. Besides, she only looks like a twenty-dollar whore, so go hit an ATM if you need to pay her.” She saw the blonde start to creep around the bed for her own clothes, but Lexi grabbed them as well and tossed them out the window into the fire. “Wow, silk goes up even faster! Who knew? Now both of you get the hell out of my apartment!”

The blonde slipped on a bra and panties. “In our underwear?”

Lexi whipped out her cell phone and placed a call. “Yeah, sorry, I don’t own anything from the fall Extreme Silicone collection.” The call connected. “Hey, Frankie, grab your camera and get outside our building right now. Catch a rising sitcom star in his tighty whiteys. And his bimbo co-star spilling out of a bra.”

Dave’s eyes went wide. “Who the hell did you call?”

“Paparazzo who lives downstairs. I owed him a favor. Now get out before I set you on fire!”