“Yeah, see ya, Coach,” the boys chorused in perfect unison.
They were out in the Mercedes before Valerie realized she’d just lost what might prove to be one of the most important cases of her life. Somehow, without her having consciously agreed, Brian was going to be practicing with the team.
Confused as to how that had happened, Valerie was the one who didn’t have much of an appetite that night.
AT FIVE IN THE MORNING on Halloween Friday, Kirk was at his desk, having already sent out enough faxes to keep his line tied up for almost an hour. Paperwork had been signed, sealed and delivered for the Gandoyne/Aster merger on Tuesday of that week, a three-day negotiation from open to close. The rest—well, he wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing.
He’d told Troy that Gandoyne would be his only deal. Yes, he could have Chandler Acquisitions up and running again at little more than a moment’s notice. Yes, his reputation was still garnering him business opportunities on a daily basis. But he was finished. Had a new life. New goals and priorities.
And he’d gotten up that morning to fax refusals on all of the numerous requests he’d received that week from investors and business CEOs all over the country, begging him to facilitate difficult acquisitions.
It should have taken fifteen minutes. Two succinct lines. Thanks. But no thanks.
There was no reason to actually look at the proposals or to be mulling over solutions to million-dollar problems. That was a part of himself he could no longer acknowledge.
Which was why there were thirty-five refusals on the out tray of his fax machine.
By six, his second cup of coffee half-empty on his desk, Kirk was on the phone to the East Coast. Just this one deal. It would take ten minutes of his life. And make an old man millions.
And by six-thirty, dressed and ready to bolt out the door, he was waiting for the return call so he could give his list of orders. Just this one deal, and he’d be done.
“Chandler.”
“Coach?”
He’d only given his home number to one boy—and never expected him to use it.
“Abraham, what’s up?”
“I’m not going to be at practice today.”
Hand in the front pocket of his jeans, Kirk switched gears instantly, slowing his mind enough to be aware the boy’s emotional needs.
“I told you if you want that spot on the team you have to be at every practice until the scrimmage game next week.”
He wanted the boy on the team. Maybe more than Abraham wanted to be there. But Kirk didn’t give anyone anything for free. The consequences of doing that were too damaging.
“I know.”
“So you’re calling to tell me you don’t want to be on the team.” What the hell was going on? Abraham wouldn’t be calling if that was the case. He just wouldn’t have shown up.
“No.”
“Then what?”
Silence.
Used to being able to pick up a phone and find out anything he needed to know, Kirk was in new territory. Territory he didn’t like. How could he help this kid if he didn’t know the rules—the lay of the land?
Abraham still wasn’t saying anything. But he wasn’t hanging up. Instinctively Kirk remained silent. And waited.
“I have a…job…I gotta do. I arranged it so I can do most of it over the weekend, but they wouldn’t let me outta there this afternoon.”
A job? At twelve?
What kind of parent had a kid working at twelve? And for so many hours that he’d be working all weekend to have his afternoons free…
“Where you working?”