Page 69 of Power Play

“Next time we kiss, it won’t be because of any bargain. Next time we kiss, you’ll kiss me.”

She laughed and I smiled at her. She could pretend all she wanted, but I tasted the truth. She’d go to bed tonight thinkingof me. She’d read that romance novel and think of me. When she put those fingers of hers between her legs, it would be my kiss she would remember.

I was a professional athlete. I knew when I was in someone’s head.

Kit opened her mouth to argue with me but from the other room there was a thunk and a scream. We looked at each other in panic before sprinting to the bedroom where Tess had found the bunk beds.

She was pulling herself up off the floor when Kit and I burst in.

“Are you hurt?” Kit cried.

“Don’t move,” I said and sat her down on the bottom bunk.

“I’m okay,” Tess said quickly. “Honestly. I just jumped off the top bunk.”

“Jumped or fell?” Kit asked,

“Both,” Tess said. I checked her feet and legs for anything broken or bleeding or swelling. But there was nothing.

“I think it’s the bottom bunk for you, kiddo,” Kit said, patting the pillow on the freshly made bed.

“No!” Tess cried. “I’m big enough for the top. I can do it.”

“No way,” I said and stood up. “There’s no railing up here.”

“That’s what makes it fun!” Tess cried.

“You could roll off in your sleep,” Kit said and I nodded enthusiastically. Honestly, my heart rate was just coming back down.

“That’s not a thing,” Tess said.

“It’s totally a thing,” I said. “When my brother and I were kids we had bunk beds. One time my brother tried to get off the top bunk without using the ladder and he fell and broke his arm.”

“Are you lying just to make a point?” Tess asked, her eyes narrowed. I pretended outrage even though I’d been doing just that. The falling part was true, but he hadn’t broken anything.

Kit looked on with laughter in her eyes like she was on to me. I wondered when these two started to know me so well.

17

Kit

Hindsight was a tricky thing. After I found out the truth about what my dad was doing, so many things started to make sense. The way we lived two kinds of lives. One that was often posh and had nice clothes and fancy dinners. One that sometimes had us leaving our nice hotel in the middle of the night, only to end up in a shitty hotel where we ate gas station food.

Dad had sold this double life to me like it was a lark. Like we were constantly in the middle of an adventure and gas station hot dogs were his favorite treat.

At first I’d been too young to question it, and why would I? It was just fun. Dad could have sold me anything and I would have bought it. Then, it was just the way things were.

I went to boarding school for three years and had missed probably the worst of his gambling along with the trouble his gambling had gotten him into.

When I’d come home, there hadn’t been a single thing amiss. Everything was exactly as I expected. He had this big house in Northern New Jersey. A fancy car. He’d immediately bought me my own. He’d begged me to hold off on college, while he was getting his new investment firm off the ground, for so many good reasons.

He’d needed my help with the growing business. And he argued, helping him with his business would be invaluable experience for me.

But the worst, the absolute worst lie he told me, was when he’d started having me join him at various charity functions around the country. New York. LA. Chicago. Always cities with pro teams.

Nashville.

“You’re a natural at this, honey. I need you to know every player in the room, every important stat he has. I need you to know their mother’s name and the name of the pet they had as a kid. You’re my in, honey. My secret weapon.”

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