But God bless Cathy. She kept my coffee fresh and full all day, managed the flood of calls and emails, kept the deluge just outside my office door.
Jack had gotten Pharaoh out of jail, and he’d issued a statement looking sorry and penitent. He’d received a six-game suspension with no pay and said during that time, he’d be going to rehab for his drinking. He said it was a mistake, one he’d learned from, one that had humbled him.
I, for one, knew that was utter bullshit. Pharaoh was out for himself first and foremost — he’d proven time and time again, on the field and off, that he didn’t really care. But this move was probably going to save him his career, and for that, I was grateful he’d rolled over. I just hoped he calmed down for good. Knowing Jack, he’d sat the kid down and told him exactly how it was. That we would terminate his contract if he didn’t get it together. That if he didn’t leave the aggression on the field, he was going to send his career down the drain. It was up to him to keep himself in check.
And today, it was up to me to save his sponsorships.
It was another long day, full of tense phone calls and emails, messages with Jack, organizing everything to sustain the weekend. By the end of it all, I was exhausted and ready for a drink, finding comfort in the knowledge that I’d be seeing Cam, looking forward to telling her about how the day had been. I was packing up when Cathy buzzed me.
“I’ve got a call from Adrienne Christie on line one.”
“Thanks, Cathy.” I picked up the phone and hit the line, wondering if it was a business or personal call. “Good afternoon, Ms. Christie.”
“Same to you, Mr. Knight,” she said, the all-business Adrienne back in action, though she sounded softer than yesterday. “I just wanted to give you a quick call to touch base about Pharaoh. I saw the press release today. So far, the news cycle has been receptive to his announcement about rehab, so congratulations on that. If you’d asked me twenty-four hours ago if Jack could have turned this around, I probably would have laughed.”
“I probably would have too,” I said with a smile and leaned back in my seat.
“Well, I’m glad the heat’s been turned down a little, even though it’s still the top discussion point on every sports media outlet. At least now they’re all talking about how heartfelt he is and wishing him luck in rehab instead of his general misbehavior in the NFL.”
“Anything to detract from that,” I joked.
She chuckled. “Jack did well, and so did you. Barring any unforeseen circumstance, his sponsorship should be safe.”
“That’s a relief. Thank you, Adrienne.”
“You’re welcome.” She paused for a second. “Listen, Tyler — I know it’s unprofessional to ask you this, but I was going to meet some friends for happy hour tonight and wanted to know if you were free.”
I blinked, surprised. But before I even considered accepting, a response left my mouth. “Thanks for the invitation, but I’m meeting Cam at Wasted Words tonight. Raincheck?”
“Yeah, of course,” she said, though she didn’t fully cover her disappointment. “Sure. I’m sorry to put you on the spot like that.”
“You didn’t,” I lied, turning the conversation back to work. “I’ll give you a call on Monday and we can see how the weekend treated Pharaoh.”
“Absolutely. And maybe I can cash that raincheck in soon.”
“Just say the word.”
“All right.” I could hear her smiling. “Thanks, Tyler.”
“Have a great weekend, Adrienne.”
I hung the phone on the cradle and stared at it.
I’d just been asked out by a beautiful, successful woman who I got along well with, someone whose company I enjoyed, and I couldn’t figure out why I’d opted to go to a book bar to hang out with my roommate.
Maybe it was because I hadn’t dated in a while. Maybe I was gun-shy. Off the horse too long. But deep down I knew it was more than that.
On paper, Adrienne and I made sense. There was no reason to refuse her, and even Cam was on board. I thought back to last night and the conversation she and I had about Adrienne. Cam was insistent and determined — I could see it in her eyes, she wanted me to date Adrienne. She saw it as a good match, and maybe it was, but I wasn’t really interested.
I’d rather be a bar fly alone.
No, not alone. With Cam.
My soul staggered as I sat at my desk in my office, damp palms on the cool surface.
Cam and Adrienne were nothing alike, and I realized that was part of the reason I found myself seeking Cam’s company. She was my friend, the person who I told almost everything. I found comfort in her, the familiarity, the realness of her. I knew her, and she knew me, the real me, and that was all she ever asked for.
It was in the mundane moments that I noticed her. It was watching her read, curled up on the couch with her face reflecting whatever emotion she read. It was seeing that same face all scrunched up, tongue poking from between her rosy lips as she kicked my ass at Smash Brothers. The disappointment in her big, brown eyes when another book failed to capture my attention.
But she wasn’t interested. I mean, sometimes she looked at me like those sides of beef we’d joked about last night, but I didn’t think anything of it. She was attracted to me too, but that was it. Just physical.
Wasn’t it?
I didn’t have a shot with her — I wasn’t her type. She’d said it a thousand times. But that didn’t stop us from being friends. It didn’t stop me from wanting to hang out with her. It didn’t stop me from watching her make coffee, or stretch in those little shorts she wore to bed, all the while thinking about her body against mine.