Debbi Rawlins - The Real Deal

At the open door, his hand on the knob, he looked over his shoulder and winked. “Twenty minutes then.”

Obviously he still thought he was getting lucky. She closed the door behind him, and smiled broadly. Maybe he would.

THE THORNTON BAR WAS a typical upper-middle-class yuppy hangout. Lots of black lacquer, polished brass and premium bottles lining the back of the U-shaped bar. Nick slipped into the crowded room, pleased to spot a dimly lit, empty table in the corner. Man, he hoped no one recognized him. But that was like going to bat with a broken arm and expecting to hit a home run. So far Emily didn’t know who he was, but that was probably because she wasn’t from New York and apparently wasn’t a baseball fan.

Was that her appeal? Sure, she was cute and had the kind of woman’s body he preferred; breasts on the small side, tiny waist, generous bottom. He also liked that she said what she thought. No hedging or playing coy. He even liked that she blushed when she saw that he’d had the book. She probably hadn’t lied. The book could very well have been intended for research. The box of condoms had thrown him, though. That had been totally unexpected.

He sat at the small table for two, facing the entrance to the bar, and checked his watch. He had fifteen minutes before she was supposed to show up, although he wouldn’t be surprised if she took longer. Nick hadn’t met a woman yet who didn’t take forever to get ready. But at least tonight it would give him time to get rid of any fans who might notice him and want an autograph. That’s why he would’ve preferred staying in her room. Yet good for her for being cautious and insisting on the bar. Still, she’d bought condoms. She had to be looking for some action.

The waitress approached, a practiced smile on her heavily made-up face, wearing a tasteful yet subtly revealing uniform in black and gold. She gave her long blond hair a brief toss before stationing herself in front of him. “I’m Sabrina. I’ll be your server this evening. What can I get you?”

“What kind of beer do you have on tap?”

Her gaze narrowed, and then she blinked. “You’re Nicky Corrigan.”

“There’s a hundred-dollar tip in it for you if you keep that between us.”

Her glossy pink lips parted slightly and then formed a pout. “Really? Can I just tell the other girls?”

“Sabrina?” He motioned for her with a crooked finger, while digging in his pocket.

“Yes.” She moved closer and leaned expectantly toward him.

“No one.” He took her hand and pressed a hundred against her palm. “I’d also consider your silence a personal favor.”

“Why, sure, Nicky,” she said huskily. “Not a word.” Sabrina glanced over her shoulder toward the bar and then the entrance. “You’re here alone?”

“Someone will be joining me in a few minutes.” He briefly debated warning her to include Emily in her discretion, but decided that might be inviting trouble. The next thing he knew he’d be reading tabloid headlines about the mystery woman in his life.

Not bothering to hide her disappointment, Sabrina sighed as she straightened. “I guess you’ll be wanting a Gold lite since you are their spokesman.”

“Yeah. Right.” He snorted. How could he have forgotten about his latest endorsement? His agent would ream him out if he caught him drinking anything else in public. Rightfully so. That kind of endorsement meant a lot of money for a lot of people, not the least being Nick himself. He’d be a fool not to cash in and toe the line while he was still a hot ticket.

Not like poor Billy.

Shit. He had to stop the negative thoughts. It wasn’t over for Billy. The doctors said that if he applied himself to rehab, he had a chance. A slim chance, but it was there.

Nick noticed that Sabrina was staring at him with a puzzled frown. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”

“Did you want to order for your friend?”

He shook his head, having no idea what Emily drank. “I’ll let her order for herself.”

“I’ll be right back with your beer.” She gave him a seductive smile and a calculated head-toss, then sashayed toward the bar.

She was a beauty all right. Probably a wanna-be model or actress, hoping for a stint on Broadway or to be discovered by a top designer while waiting tables to pay the bills. He’d dated a couple of those types when he was new to the majors. But it had been a while since he’d gone out with any woman who wasn’t an actress, a socialite or at the top of her modeling career.

He slumped back in his chair, keeping his face in shadow, glad to see that there were mostly couples in the room who seemed lost in conversation. Three guys sat at the bar but they were busy chatting up the waitresses and female bartender.

When his cell phone rang, he withdrew it from his pocket and checked the caller ID. It was Billy. A wave of pain that was becoming too familiar swept over Nick.

“Hey.”

“Hello, Nick. It’s Liz.”

At the sound of Billy’s wife’s voice, Nick’s gut clenched. She never called. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yes, sorry.” She laughed softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Everything is fine, but I don’t want Billy to know I’ve called.”

“All right,” Nick said slowly, suspecting he wasn’t going to like having this conversation. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind about coming for Thanksgiving.”

Nick scrubbed at his jaw, not sure what to say. He didn’t want to outright lie to her, but he knew staying away from Billy for now was the right thing to do. “I’m hoping to see my folks,” he said finally. “I thought your family was going to be spending the week with you.”

“They are. Billy’s mom and brother, too.” She sighed. “But they don’t understand.”

Neither did she, Nick thought. Only another player could identify with the pain and fear Billy was going through right now, suffering the uncertainty of his career, his future.

“He’s depressed,” Liz whispered, “and I don’t know what to do for him.”

“I don’t think my showing up will change that.”

“It might,” she said eagerly.

Guilt cut deep. Was he wrong in staying away? If it were him lying in that bed, he wouldn’t want the constant reminder that there would be no spring training for him in a few months. “He’ll be kept busy once your company starts arriving. They’ll take his mind off things. Later next month, when it gets quiet, I’ll fly down for a visit.”

“Promise?”

He briefly closed his eyes. He knew Liz thought she was doing the right thing, but she wasn’t. When Billy was ready to talk, he’d be the one to call Nick. “As soon as Billy wants me there, I’ll be there.”

“Come on, Nick. You know he won’t ask.”

“He won’t have to. I’ll know, okay?”

“Have you talked to him lately?”

“I’ll call him tomorrow.”

Her resentful silence was as thick as country gravy.

He saw the waitress approaching with his beer. “Billy is my best friend. I know what I’m doing, Liz. Trust me.”

“Sure,” she said, a trace of bitterness in her voice.

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

She disconnected the call before he could say another word, offer any comfort. Not that he knew what to say, but he knew she was suffering, too. It sucked feeling helpless.

“Here you go.” Sabrina set down the beer, along with a small bowl of mixed nuts. “I’ll be on the lookout for your friend. A woman, I assume?”

“It’s okay. There she is.” Nick glanced at his watch and smiled to himself. Two minutes early. He lifted a hand to get her attention.

Emily nodded acknowledgment, touched her hair and briefly tugged at the hem of her red sweater. Was she still wearing the red lingerie underneath? he wondered.