Page 41 of Well Played

“If someone can get me their private cells, I'll make the calls,” I tell Lloyd and Benz at our daily meeting.

“Why? I can do it as COO,” Benz replies, “or Lloyd’s team can reach out.”

“Because if they don't return my call, then they don’t respect me as either a former player or coach. We only have one chance to make a first impression and I want players standing with me who want to be with me on the field.”

“Okay, you make the calls and invite them to your place where we will have an NDA for them to sign before saying anything.” Benz nods as if agreeing with himself. “We don't have the luxury of time to build the brand or buzz. At the moment, the media is all over Lloyd to announce the new franchise. We can use that to our advantage. We do not announce player signings or you as coach until we're ready to launch.”

“That relies on players answering my call.”

“And them signing an NDA. We deal directly with the players, not their managers or their mummies. Once you get six players ready to sign, we’ll arrange the launch.”

“That could be weeks.”

“I’ll negotiate a salary cap dispensation allowing us to pay more to get the right players,” Lloyd assures me. “The national commission knows we are the only option if they want the expansion to go ahead. You get to a handshake with the players, and then we’ll invite them to a mass signing at the launch. No one will back out, and the managers will still get their cut for doing no work.”

“That's insane,” I say. “It's never been done before.”

“Welcome to the world of making the impossible possible.” Lloyd raises his cup of coffee in toast. “We're breaking the rules gentlemen, are you with me?”

“Hell, yeah,” Benz and I say as one.

NO GOING BACK

Willow

I finishthe last touches of makeup when the car Bronx ordered for us arrives. I don’t know what he has planned, only that after six weeks of dating, tonight I’ll be in his bed, in his home, and we will cross that last relationship boundary.

Since our first date, we’ve spent every night at my place, unless he has Charlotte. Even though we aren’t doing anything wrong, we don’t want to raise questions by having my car parked overnight in his driveway, or his car missing and discovered in mine.

We kiss, make out, and I even sleep curled in his arms, but we’ve never goneall the way.This, whatever it is, is too important to rush.

Instead of rushing into sex, we’ve built a real relationship based on getting to know each other. Since he can’t talk about his mysterious job, and I’m careful talking about my day since Charlotte is one of my students, we talk about our lives, dreams, and goals.

He knows how much I love teaching, and not just children. I have a passion for helping adults who missed out on the education they deserved—and adult literacy is something I want to pursue at some point in my career. That meshes with what he loves about coaching—bringing out the best in individuals and a team.

We have the same values, moral compass, and competitive will to win. Oh, do we love to win.

When Bronx gave me a strategy game as a gift on our first date, I’d been surprised.

“You want to play a game?” It had been my first clue that Bronx didn’t have a strong dating game.

“You can tell a lot about a person's character, by the way they play, the way they win, and the way they lose.”

“And what sort of loser are you?” I asked with a touch of flirty banter.

“I don't lose, baby.” He gave me back my flirt with interest.

“Well, Mr. Parker, shuffle up and deal. You’ve never played me before.” I set the challenge, and lost the first game.

Since then, we’ve gone through a dozen strategy games and chess. We’ve played poker and Yahtzee, and we're almost ready for Monopoly. I love the game and am ruthless, which is why I've never played it with a partner before. Is Bronx man enough to survive playing me at Monopoly? I don’t know, but when he invited me for a sleepover tonight, I made two decisions.

First, I’m done waiting. I trust what Bronx and I are building and know that what we have is real. It isn’t based on a crush. Tomorrow I’ll wake up knowing how it feels to have been made love to by Bronx Parker.

Second, this morning I sent him home with Monopoly and my overnight bag. He knows what that means. I’m ready to see if our relationship can survive the ultimate test.

Hair and makeup, check. Keys and cell, check. I’m ready … is Bronx?

“And that,my darling Willow, is how you eat an oyster.” Bronx wipes away the liquid from his face and I try not to stare at his glistening lips. Do they look fuller tonight because they may be kissing more than my breasts or mouth? Or am I so deliriously happy that we’re about to take the next step, that the moon is brighter, music clearer, and my boyfriend is sexier?

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