Roz Fox - Family Fortune

Crystal cradled the phone on her shoulder while she poked at the shrimp among her salad greens. The more determination she heard in André’s voice, the less hungry she became. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll concede that might be far-fetched. I realize you’ve seen him field sports interviews. Of course Lyon Broadcasting is solvent. Yes, we have money in the discretionary fund. André, maybe it’d be better if you and Nate came and talked to Tanner. I’ll go back to the office and adjust the short- and long-term planning figures to reflect your decision.”

She shoved her salad away. “I know you want him. It just seemed such an absurd request I didn’t seriously imagine you’d go that high.”

Sighing, Crystal massaged her forehead. “Okay. Will you print another letter of intent with the new dollar amounts and run it over here? Two copies. You sign both and I’ll have Tanner do the same—maybe. If he goes for it. You might want to include a list of benefits. I have a feeling he’ll ask what all we’re offering. Buzz me when you’re a couple of blocks from the hospital. I’ll come out to the curb and collect the envelope so you don’t have to fight for parking.”

After she hung up, she drank her cold coffee and contemplated what quirk in male brains made them elevate sports figures to the top of the salary pyramid. Well, top salary for an independent TV station, anyway. And from Tanner’s remarks it wasn’t even close to what he made throwing a stupid ball around a cow pasture. But then, rock stars pulled down indecent money compared to most jazz musicians she knew. More of life’s unfairness, she supposed.

The cafeteria had begun to empty. Rather than visit the boys while she waited for André’s call, Crystal refilled her coffee cup. Better to sew up this deal with Tanner and get it out of her system. Kids were so perceptive. Skipper, especially, because of the stream of foster families he’d lived with could pick up moods easily. Crystal didn’t want him worrying about her little snit.

Ultimately she downed three cups of coffee before André called. Her teeth might be on edge from an overdose of caffeine, but at least the storm had blown over and the rain had stopped. The sun had popped out and steam rose off the sidewalks by the time Crystal jogged out to the street to meet André’s car. He wasn’t alone. Nate and Michael were with him.

“Sure you won’t handle this, André?” she pleaded again as he shoved the manila envelope into her hand. “I’ll smuggle you past the nurses’ station.”

Nate leaned across André. “Pro athletes can be superstitious as heu, Crystal. We don’t know that Tanner is, but no sense rocking the canoe, if you know what I mean. He’s talking to you, and that suits me fine. Say, André forgot to ask—did Cale mention how long it’d be before we can expect him to come on board?”

“We, uh, didn’t get to the particulars. I doubt we’d have progressed beyond him ripping up our letter if his agent hadn’t shown up.”

André frowned. “Is Bergman involved in our negotiations? If so, the tab may go even higher.”

Crystal flattened herself against the car as an SUV plowed through a puddle and water sprayed from beneath its big wheels. “Mr. Bergman’s the one who urged Tanner to reconsider taking the job. I gathered he’s only just found out for sure that the Sinners aren’t going to renew Caleb’s contract.”

“So it’s official?” Nate played drumbeats on André’s dash. “I’m glad you beefed up the benefits, André. We’ll hit him while he’s still reeling. Stay with him until he signs, Crystal. And be nice. Tell him what he wants to hear. That he’ll have a generous travel allowance and his own expense account.”

“What?” Crystal bent down and thrust her head into the car. “Am I going to have to fight with him over road expenses the way I do with you, Nate? You can’t give an employee an unlimited expense account. It’s financial suicide. Tell him, Michael.”

André cleared his throat. “It’s not open-ended, Crystal. But we’d rather wait to set the parameters after Caleb starts work and we have a better sense of what his duties will be. Can you avoid stating an exact amount? Just indicate it’ll be generous.”

“I think you’re all nuts,” she muttered. “A monkey in silk is still a monkey.”

“Oh, that’s something else,” Nate said. “While Michael drew up the new offer, I did some digging into Cale’s background. He graduated from Texas A & M with a degree in communications.”

“I’ll bet. Everybody knows college counselors give jocks do-nothing courses.”

Nate smiled. “Used to be true, thank heaven. Otherwise I’d have never made it through Georgia State. Now everybody has to pull his weight academically. Cale carried a 3.8 grade point. So give credit where credit’s due.”

“Sure,” she said sweetly. “I happen to know you graduated magna cum laude, Nathan. Jill showed me your college scrapbook.”

“Why’d she do a dumb thing like that?” He frowned.

“Maybe she wanted people at work to know you were more than just a pretty face.”

That brought guffaws from the others. Nate Fraser’s face could be called many things. Rugged. Lived-in. Maybe even kind. But pretty? Definitely not.

Nate slumped back into his seat. “Get on with you, white girl,” he growled. “Quit stalling. André’s blocked the passenger unloading zone long enough. And don’t you be telling Cale I do okay in the brains department. As director, I get more respect pretending to be a dumb jock.”

Crystal couldn’t help smiling as she trudged back to Tanner’s room. It wasn’t often she got one up on Nate. She wished she’d thought to use the information about his academic career before. Like when Nate claimed he messed up his expense account because he couldn’t get the hang of debits and credits.

This time when she approached Tanner’s door, she didn’t hear any noise. On checking, she discovered the drapes had been pulled to darken the room. Tanner was alone, but not asleep. He worked with a set of hand weights while staring dejectedly at a blank TV screen. His lunch tray sat untouched.

The ravaged expression on his face walloped Crystal before she had a chance to erect defenses. “Hi. It’s me again.” Her voice squeaked as she stumbled over the banal greeting.

His eyes, jade-dark and overflowing with dashed hopes, studied her. “I’m rotten company, sugar. On the other hand, I’d just as soon not be alone right now.”

Crystal stepped fully into the room. Nate’s recent directive pounded through her head. Be nice to him. He did look as if he needed a friend. She glanced around and saw that the room had three chairs. Selecting one, she sat and placed her handbag in another, then propped her sax case against the third. “Will Mr. Bergman be back soon?”

“Agents can’t afford to waste their time on cripples. He’s probably glued to his cell phone, looking for new blood.”

Crystal pulled her hair over one shoulder, separated it into three heavy strands and began braiding it automatically. “So you exploded like a volcano and threw him out, huh?”

He stopped lifting the weights. “If you’re planning to add shrink to your list of accomplishments, you can take a hike, too. I’ll have agents beating down my door once this leg heals.” He slapped at the covers, accidentally throwing one of the small barbells he’d been lifting into his injured knee.

His grimace of pain told Crystal all she needed to know. She wrapped a scrunchie around the bottom end of her braid and flipped it behind her. “I don’t want to play devil’s advocate, Tanner, but it doesn’t appear that’ll happen anytime soon. You can’t kick a football until you can walk.”