Page 33 of Game On

“I asked about Beckett. Shane, tell me nothing is going on with the coach’s sister-in-law.” He put a strong emphasis on the last two words.

“Nothing’s going on,” Shane said. It was mostly true.

“Good,” Roscoe said, tossing a few bills on the table. “That would be an epic mistake. If you took anything away from that fiasco in San Diego, it’s don’t mess with team personnel or family. Your career couldn’t handle another scandal like that. So keep your hands off her.”

As they left the restaurant for the hotel, Shane didn’t bother mentioning to Roscoe that he’d have an easier time of controlling his temper than keeping his hands off Carly March.

“I can’t believe they let that jerk out of jail!”

“Me neither, Jules,” Carly said into her cell phone. “But they didn’t have much to hold him on. Besides, his grandfather owns the television station where he works and he has a lot of clout in this town. According to Hank, his grandfather has agreed not to press charges against Shane. Joel is going into rehab, so he won’t bother me again.”

“And you believe that?” Carly had to hold the phone away from her head. When Julianne got angry, she spoke quickly and loud.

“I don’t have any reason not to,” Carly said, tucking her feet beneath her in the Adirondack chair. She looked across her meager backyard at Beckett, his big head sniffing beneath the hosta plants surrounding the black maple tree growing against her fence. “His grandfather doesn’t want Joel getting into any more trouble, either. It’s not the best publicity for the station. Joel just needs a little help, that’s all.”

Julianne was muttering something in Italian on the other end of the phone and Carly braced herself for her friend’s tirade.

“Look, honey,” Julianne said. “Haven’t the last few years taught you anything? You’re too trusting of men. You can’t keep going around living life like a doormat.”

Ouch! No matter how many times she heard the same refrain from Julianne, it still hurt.

“If I want to be psychoanalyzed, Jules, I’ll go see my sister, the professional.”

“Oh, Carly. You know I love you. I just want you to be happy.”

“This from a woman who spends her life lusting over a priest!” It was fighting dirty, but Carly wanted to prove she wasn’t a doormat. At least not to her best friend anyway.

“Hey! You leave Nicky out of this!”

“Face it, Jules. You are in love with a man you can’t have. Instead of dealing with that, you take it out on me.”

Julianne was silent on the other end of the cell phone.

“I’m sorry, Jules. I didn’t mean it. I guess I just got a little mad at the doormat thing. I really am happy, though. I wish you could see that.”

“We’re quite a pair, huh?” Julianne’s question came out more as a hiccup. “You attract narcissistic bastards and I can’t stop dreaming of St. Nicholas. It’s pathetic. And Carly,” her voice cracked. “I do know you’re happy. I guess I just don’t like that you’re happy living down there and not here in New York with me. The guy attacking you has me a little wigged out. I would just die if something happened to you.”

“All you had to say was that you missed me, you idiot.” Carly wiped a wayward tear from her eye.

Beckett wandered over, nudging his wet snout between Carly’s hand and the armrest, forcing her to pet him.

“Oh, sweetie, do you miss your daddy?” She nuzzled the dog’s nose.

“Are you talking to that dog?”

“I am,” Carly cooed. Beckett’s head lolled back as she rubbed behind his ears. “He really is kinda cute. A little sloppy with his food and water. And he snores like a freight train. But other than that, he’s kind of nice to have around.”

Julianne snorted. “You’ve just described my last boyfriend.”

“As I recall, you didn’t think ‘Chad the Cad’ was all that nice to have around,” Carly teased as the dog tried to climb up on to the chair.

“Yeah, you’ll feel the same about that dog. Just give it a few days. When’s Dark and Mysterious coming home anyway?”

Carly shoved the ninety pounds of drooling dog off her lap and stood up, brushing tufts of brown dog hair off her yoga pants. She closed the glass door behind them as she went inside, checking the lock twice. Beckett trotted over to his water dish for a drink, sending as much water to the floor as into his belly.

“I’m not sure. The funeral was yesterday, but he texted me last night and said he wouldn’t be home until sometime tomorrow. Something about the will.” Beckett went over to the old comforter she’d thrown on the floor for the dog to use as a bed. He scrunched up the sides and lay down with a humph. Grabbing a towel from the bar stool, Carly bent down to wipe up the water he’d slopped on the floor. “If he doesn’t come home tomorrow, I’ll need to go back over to his place and get more food for Beckett.”

“So what’s his place like?” Julianne asked.

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