Unknown - Driven_589066

“Yeah, yeah, put it on my tab.”

“Later.” Dylan closed her phone just as the house phone began ringing. Reaching behind her, she picked up the handset. “Lambert.”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Lambert.” The heavy southern twang of Horace Johnson’s voice oozed through the phone line and into Dylan’s ear. Her lips curled

up in disgust.

“Afternoon, Horace. What can I do for you?”

“Well…I just got a call from the owner of the Tropics. Seems his coach lobbied a sweet little deal for us, and you turned her down flatter than a two dollar

whore.”

“That’s right, I did.”

“Mind telling me why? Jack says our pick would have still been there in the second round. Sounds to me like you might have put the cart in front of the

horse.”

“Probably because I didn’t like the load of fertilizer she was trying to sell me. Horace, you know as well as I do that Michelle Madison is an over-the-hill

grunt with knees worse than mine. She won’t even pass a physical this season. You know it, I know it, and the league knows it. Milton was trying to peddle

her off to anyone blind enough to look twice at her. And her second round picks were so low that we couldn’t have gotten anyone worth spit.”

“Still….”

“Still nothing, Horace. Think about it. They’re our conference rivals, and she was selling this shit just to get her hands on that hot new center. You know…

last year’s shot blocking leader? Did you really want us to go up against that all season?”

“Well…I suppose you might have something there.”

“You know I do, Horace. Catherine Hodges is going to lift this team to the next level. I wouldn’t have picked her if I thought otherwise.”

“Still don’t like her, though.”

Pulling the phone away from her ear, Dylan contemplated slamming it several times against her table, then decided not to scar the wood. “You don’t have

to like her, Horace. But I bet you’re gonna start liking her when you see the money she’s going to bring in.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I know I am.”

“Alright then,” he said after a long pause. “Just remember our deal.”

“I remember, Horace. Believe me, I remember. Anything else?”

“Nope. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye to you too, you sanctimonious, bigoted shithead,” she growled into an empty line.

She had just hung up the phone when it rang again. “What the hell is this, Grand Fucking Central Station?!?” She picked up the handset. “Yeah!?”

There was a moment of silence before a hesitant voice came on the line. “Is this Dylan?”

Dylan rolled her eyes to heaven. “Yeah, Hunter, it’s me. What’s up?”

“Are…you okay?”

Great. Trade one shithead for another. This really isn’t my day. “I’m just fine, Hunter. What can I do for you today?” I know what I’d like to do, but I think

it’s still illegal in most states.

“Well, I was getting worried because you weren’t returning my phone calls.”

“Well, Hunter, that’s probably because I was busy. You know, with the draft and all?”

Comprehension dawned. “Ohhh. Yeah, I remember something about that.”

Dylan rubbed at the bridge of her nose, begging for strength. “Is there anything else, Hunter, because I’m just about to step into the shower and….”

“Well yes, yes! There is something. My second movie is premiering on Friday at Mann’s and I was wondering if you could attend it with me?”

It was on the tip of Dylan’s tongue to refuse. Her leg was shooting bolts of pain up into her belly, her head ached like an anvil had been dropped on it, and

she really wanted to just find someplace cool and dark and curl up in a ball until it all passed. The thought of spending even one minute with the man on

the other end of the phone made her guts churn.

Then a thought struck her. A thought which caused a truly evil grin to spread over her face. “Is your family going to be there?”

“Yes.” The word was drawn out. “But you don’t have to worry, they’ll be sitting behind us.”

Oh I’m not worried, Mr. Stud Wannabe. Try touching me in the dark and you’ll be minus a few fingers. “Hm. Well, I don’t think I’m doing anything on

Friday, so I suppose I could make it.”

“Great! Great! Wonderful! I’ll have the Lear sent down to pick….”

“No, no. That won’t be necessary. I’ll just book a flight.”

“But Dylan….”

“I said I’d take care of it, Hunter. Will that be all?”

“Well…I guess so.”

“Good. I’ll see you Friday, then. Goodbye.”

She hung up the phone with a sense of dawning relief. “Well, girl, looks like I just killed a couple of birds with one stone.”

Brunhilde cocked her head, and Dylan laughed, suddenly feeling much better than she had not a minute before.

Camera flashes turned night into day as Dylan stepped out of the limousine, grasping the chauffeur’s guiding hand and straightening to her full height.

Hunter stepped out behind her, laying a gentle, if proprietary, hand on the small of her back. His thousand megawatt smile outshone all the lights as he

looked upon the teeming, fawning crowd.

Of course, he had every reason to smile. His new movie was a hit before it had even been released, and he had on his arm one of the most beautiful

women in the world.

Dylan was stunning in her black, silk dress. Cut to mid thigh, it had spaghetti straps and a neckline deep enough to tantalize. Her hair flowed freely over

her shoulders and back, and small diamond studs winked brilliantly in her ears.

The two began to walk the gauntlet of paparazzi, smiling and nodding with practiced ease while avoiding the outstretched arms of a crowd straining the

barriers on either side of the carpeted walkway.

The theater, by contrast, was quiet and dim. Two uniformed guards escorted the pair down the carpeted aisle and into plush seats near the front where

they would have an unobstructed view of the movie. They remained, positioning themselves at either end of the row of seats, in order to keep the crowds

away.

Dylan was, as always, less than thrilled with this. While she valued her privacy, and understood the need for security measures in some public venues, she

hated the obvious lines drawn between what the public perceived as the “haves” and the “have nots”.

Still, she reminded herself of the reasons for being in this place, and resolved to grin and bear it as best she could.

She surprised herself by actually enjoying the movie. It was a light romantic comedy that was a vast departure from Hunter’s usual “he-man” roles, and he

was quite good in it. Ever gracious, she told him as much, and by the smile on his face, one would have wondered if she had just accepted a proposal of

marriage.

The two ran the gauntlet again on their way back to the limousine for a quick trip to the post-premier party being held at a popular, and trendy, nightclub

nearby.

Once they were inside the already packed club, Hunter’s agent swept him away to meet with the fawning critics, leaving Dylan blessedly alone at last. The

throbbing bass made her eardrums vibrate as she made her way to the bar to order a mineral water from a starry-eyed bartender.

Turning her back to the bar, she sipped the water as she eyed the crowd. Her height, easily topping all but the very tallest men, gave her a decided

advantage, and her eyes lit up with a predatory gleam as she spotted exactly who she was looking for shaking it up on the dance floor.

Easing her way through the crowd with sinuous grace, she approached the dance floor and laid a hand on the shoulder of her prey, causing the tousleheaded brunette to jump and spin and almost land in Dylan’s arms.