The Love Triangle

“Fuhgeddaboudit,” she said, in her familiar thick New York accent. She handed him a fistful of pink message slips. “Phone’s been ringin’ off the hook. I’ve been tryin’ to keep the media at bay.”

“Yeah, I figured as much. Never expected him to do something so stupid. He seemed like a straight arrow.”

The petite curvy brunette took his arms. “Well, you need to take care of the situation before you get on that plane. The media aint goin’ away on this.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Look, Kyle, with you on the road so much looking for new clients, I think it’s time we got some public relations help, and I think I found the right person. Did you listen to the podcast I gave you from the PR conference I went to on Friday?”

He nodded. “Yeah. Interesting stuff.”

“I particularly liked that woman who dumped the Congressman as a client. The one they were calling Spin Girl after her talk. Sounds like she’s got some high standards. Just what we need.”

“You’re right. She was impressive.”

“Of course I’m right. I’m your older, wiser sister and I know how to look out for my little brother. That’s why I grabbed her business card.” Donna handed it to him. “Why don’t you give her a call? Maybe she’s free today and can help you out.”

***

Lexi entered her office, head held high despite the events of the weekend. While walking in on her boyfriend was emotionally crushing, her revenge chromosome was a dominant one, and she took pleasure in the aftermath thanks to her neighbor the paparazzo, who had taken some terrific photos which ended up splashed across a major newspaper. Chandler looked up and studied her face as he stood up to greet her holding a handful of pink message slips. “Lexi, are you okay?”

She nodded and smiled. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“I surmised that after catching your significant other in flagrante delicto with a woman whose hourglass figure has a good deal of sand in the top that your mood might be a somewhat dour one.”

“In other words, you thought I’d be pissed off after catching the sonofabitch nailing a woman who defies the laws of gravity as they apply to halter tops.”

“Basically.”

“Hey, better I know now that I can’t trust someone than after I go down the aisle with him. And I got even.”

“He got what he deserved. I knew he was wrong for you.”

“You’ve said that so many times.”

“Perhaps someday in the future you might start listening to me.” He folded his arms. “Alexandra Rebecca Harlow, you’re too trusting with men. You have to be careful. You’re too much of an open book with men you just meet. You have to play your cards closer to the vest.”

“Yeah, I know. And stop doing the full name thing with me. You’re not my dad.”

“And you knew Dave had a reputation as a player—”

“Okay! I get it! I’ll have the CIA vet the next guy who asks me out and send me a dossier.”

“I’m just looking out for your future endeavors in the romance department.”

“Fine, Chandler, enough about my love life, or lack thereof right now. What’s with all the messages this early in the day?”

“Your talk at the conference seems to be paying dividends. We’ve already had a few calls from prospective new clients.” He handed her the message slips as the phone rang.

Chandler answered the call as she headed for her office while looking at the messages. One decent-sized corporation, a couple of small businesses and a politician she knew to be a decent human being mounting a campaign for next year. She was about to reach for the phone to return the calls when Chandler stuck his head in the door. “Yes, Chandler?”

“Interesting prospect on the line. Sports agent for Noah Washington, the young man from the New York Jets who found himself in a difficult situation Saturday night.”

“Yeah, I read the paper. Sports agent, huh?”

“They usually have deep pockets. At least the players do. Anyway, a gentleman named Kyle Caruso is on the phone and needs immediate help. And he sounds like he needs it yesterday.”

“Great, thanks.” She grabbed a pen to take notes as she answered the call. “Hi, Mister Caruso, this is Lexi Harlow. What can I do for you?”

“Thanks for taking my call, Lexi. And please call me Kyle. I realize I’m not a client but I heard the podcast of your talk Friday and really liked what I heard. My executive assistant was there and she liked your talk as well. Anyway, I thought you might be the right person to help me with Noah Washington of the Jets. Are you familiar with the situation?”

“Yeah, I’m a big sports fan and I saw that in the paper. Yet another member of the Jets in the news for the wrong reason. It’s not like he got behind the wheel drunk, but that nightclub incident is still not good for his reputation. Especially since he’d never been in trouble before.”

“Anyway, Noah’s really a good kid but a bit immature. This often happens to rookies when they suddenly become rich and get an entourage. And while what he did qualifies as stupid, he’s remorseful and wants to make things right. I thought you might have some ideas on how we can make that happen. I realize you don’t know me or my client and this is ridiculously short notice but I need someone to be the point person on this today since I’m about to get on a plane. We need to spin this one quick.”

“Can I meet with him right away?”

“Sure. I already told him to expect your call.”

“How did you know I’d take you as a client?”

“I didn’t but I figured you had some free time without the Congressman on your dance card.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re right about that.”

“Actually, the fact that you cut ties with him immediately speaks volumes about you.”

“Thank you. I can’t deal with sleazy clients.”

“We’re on the same page on that.” She went over her rates and he quickly agreed to pay what she requested. They exchanged cell numbers and other pertinent information. “Lexi, can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, especially on such short notice. Hope to meet you sometime when I’m back in town.”

“You too. Thanks, Kyle.” The call ended and she threw up her hands. “Yes!”

Chandler poked his head in the door. “I assume that was good news?”

“Yep, we can pay the rent for another month.”

***

Several hours later Kyle’s phone buzzed with a text as he started to unpack in the California hotel room.

News conference. Two-minute warning. Fox Sports One.

-Lexi

He turned on the hotel room television and tuned to the sports channel. An anchor was doing a voiceover as half of the screen showed an empty podium while the other side was filled with the video of his client’s arrest. The image of the rookie being led away in handcuffs while screaming at police had gone viral and made Kyle cringe. The bottom of the screen read Noah Washington to address media regarding arrest.

He continued unpacking, keeping one eye on the TV. He saw his client head for the podium, sat on the edge of the bed and turned up the sound.

The anchor stopped talking as New York Jets rookie Noah Washington adjusted the microphone up a bit. “Good afternoon, and thank you all for coming. As everyone knows by now, I was at a club late Saturday night when a brawl broke out involving my best friend. I was not involved in the fight. After the police arrived, I attempted to protect my friend by trying to keep the police from getting to him, and in doing so I pushed an officer, who fell to the ground. I was arrested for assault and obstruction of a police investigation. When I saw the video of the arrest I was embarrassed that I acted with such a lack of maturity. This is not how my parents raised me, as I was taught to respect authority. And while I did not mean for the officer to fall or to hurt him, what I did was wrong and there was no excuse for my behavior.”

Kyle’s eyes went wide. “No excuses. I like that. Off to a good start.”

The football player continued. “First, I apologize to the officer involved and the New York City police department. These men and women risk their lives every day to keep us safe, and I didn’t show them the proper respect. For that, I am sorry. And while I can chalk this up to youthful indiscretion or having a few drinks too many, I will not. I am done with clubbing, drinking, and being out after midnight. That said, actions have consequences and I must face those I have brought on myself. First, I am going to save the court some trouble by pleading guilty to both charges. While my court date is not for two months, I am going to do two things that will hopefully show my remorse and prove to our fans and the people of New York that I have learned my lesson. First, I will donate my next game check to the policemen’s benevolent association. But I don’t want you to think I’m just another rich athlete who can write a check to make problems go away. So I am volunteering to do one hundred hours of community service by working on my off days on the NYPD project that’s currently underway building a house for officers who have fallen on hard times. I hope that in some small way this will serve as an acceptable apology and please know I will do my best to be a model citizen going forward. You will never see my name on the police blotter again. Finally, should my head coach decide to suspend or fine me, I would ask the players’ union to not challenge this as I will accept whatever punishment he thinks appropriate.”

The player moved toward an officer and shook his hand while handing him a check, then went back to the podium to take questions.

Kyle’s jaw hung open. “Sonofabitch. That was incredible.” He watched the rest of the news conference as his client politely took every single question, never dodging the issue.

***

Lexi smiled as she read the text.

Terrific job, thank you! Will call this evening.

-Kyle Caruso

She looked up as the football player, conservatively dressed in a gray three-piece suit, calmly took question after question from the media, whose hostility had been drained with the announcement of his self-imposed sentence. Whatever blood had been in the water had been washed out to sea by the man’s contrition. Number eighty-eight was now a human being who was sorry for his behavior. Very sorry.

She felt a hand lightly touch her forearm. “Excuse me, is this your handiwork?”

Lexi turned and found herself staring into the chest of a very tall man. She looked up and immediately recognized him as the veteran quarterback of the Jets, Jake Frost. “I’m his public relations person, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Well, then, thank you for diffusing the situation and turning it into a positive.” He stuck out his hand. “Jake Frost.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“And you are?”

“Lexi Harlow.”

“How long have you been working with my teammate?”

“About four hours. I got hired this morning by his agent.”

“Wow. Well, this is a stroke of genius. The poor kid was getting beat to hell on talk radio all weekend and this morning. I know this will turn things around.”

“So what are you doing here?”

“Team captain. And I’ve been trying to mentor the kid. Though obviously I didn’t do a very good job. Maybe you need to travel with the team.”

“You said it yourself, he’s a kid. You couldn’t watch him twenty-four seven.”

“Well, this will make him grow up fast. So, did the agent have you set this up or did you come up with this strategy all by yourself?”

“My idea.”

“I’m impressed. Especially with the actions have consequences thing. The rest of the world needs to learn that, especially parents. Hell, the rest of the NFL needs to learn it.”

“Sounds like we’re on the same page.” She glanced back at the news conference and saw that the questions had finally stopped. “Well, looks like we’re done here. Nice meeting you.”

She started to walk away, but he put his hand lightly on her shoulder. “Listen, I wouldn’t mind getting to know the woman who seems to think like I do. May I have your phone number?”

“You need a PR person?”

“No, I need a dinner date.” He flashed a crooked smile, which made him look like a shy high school boy.

She backed up a step, surprised at his answer. She stared into the deep-set gray eyes of this Greek god and saw a look that was sincere. Though she knew the reputation of athletes, something told her this one might be okay. She couldn’t remember reading anything about the guy breaking the law. Besides, she’d barbecued all of her boyfriend’s clothes and was now a free agent. She smiled at him, reached into her purse, pulled out a business card but didn’t give it to him, holding it near her face. “I don’t usually give my number to perfect strangers.”

He shrugged. “I never said I was perfect. I have an awful lot of flaws. I mean, besides throwing interceptions from time to time. Off the field I’m a total disaster. I really need a woman to fix me.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. His answer lowered her inhibitions and she handed him the card. “Every woman’s dream, to mold a man into perfection. But if you’re a typical bed-hopping athlete you should know that this weekend I torched the clothes of the boyfriend who cheated on me, so you either treat me right or wear a flame-retardant suit.”

His eyes widened. “That was you? The thing with the sitcom guy on the front page of The Post?”

She put one finger to her lips. “Shhhh. Not common knowledge, but I confess to being the arsonist.”

“I’ll consider myself warned.” He put the card in his pocket. “And I will call you. I guess there will be a penalty if I don’t.”

She moved closer and craned her neck as she locked eyes with him. “You’d better believe it, Mister.”

***

Lexi poured herself a glass of wine, stretched out on the couch and put her feet up, then turned on Fox Sports One. She wanted to see a replay of the news conference. Talk radio had done a complete about-face, the callers all impressed that her new client had taken responsibility for his actions and was doing something tangible to apologize. Even a few cops called in to compliment the young man. The local news showed Nate Washington in jeans and a tee-shirt working on the construction of a house alongside a bunch of police officers.

Her strategy had worked perfectly.

And a pro quarterback, possibly the most eligible bachelor in New York and one who was (hard to believe) even better-looking than Dave, had asked for her phone number. Whether he would actually call was beside the point. It felt good to have a man like that interested in her. Greek gods didn’t grow on trees.

Three days ago her world had gone ablaze, literally and figuratively.

Now, in what seemed like an instant, things had turned around. Though possibly getting into bed with a professional athlete, literally and figuratively, was something that demanded she tread with caution. For now, though, the rose-colored glasses provided by possibly the most gorgeous man she’d ever met remained in place.

She took a sip of the cold red wine and settled in to watch the replay when her cell rang. She didn’t recognize the number and hit the pause button on the TV. “Hello, this is Lexi.”

“Hi, Lexi, it’s Kyle Caruso. Am I catching you at a bad time?”

“No, not at all. Just watching TV. Your trip go okay?”

“Too early to tell. I’m at San Diego State, hoping to sign their star running back. But right now it takes a back seat to all the goodwill you got for my client today, and that all reflects really well on me as his agent. I can’t thank you enough and tell you how impressed I am with your strategy, especially on such short notice.”

“Thank you, I’m glad you’re pleased. Noah was a pleasure to work with.”

“I told you, he’s a good kid. But you made him look like a saint.”

“That’s why they call me Spin Girl. I can usually spin most situations. Though not cheating politicians.”

He laughed a bit. “Yeah, I can’t imagine anyone could fix that. Anyway, did the Jets treat you okay setting things up? I gave them a heads-up that you were working with me.”

“They were very nice, thank you for calling ahead. The head coach was happy we were being so pro-active and taking control of the situation. So was the quarterback.”

“Oh, I didn’t see Frost at the news conference.”

“He was there, but off camera. He said he’d been mentoring Noah and was glad to see him take responsibility for what he’d done. Seemed like a good guy.”

“Man, I’d love to have him as a client. Talk about deep pockets. By the way, are you a fan?”

“Of who, the Jets?”

“Yeah.”

“Nope, lifelong Giants fan. Got season tickets. But I like to see the Jets do well. A subway Super Bowl would be seriously cool, even though it wouldn’t be in New York.”

“Season tickets, huh? So what’s your take on the team? The Giants, I mean.”

She relaxed a bit, the business part of the conversation apparently over. Her new client was happy, and obviously liked to talk. She gave him her opinion on the Giants, then the conversation segued to football announcers, TV shows, movies, politics, why she got into PR, how he became an agent. The conversation was easy and flowed, like she was talking to an old friend. She picked up her iPad and did a search of his name, hoping to find a photo to see the face behind the voice.

The search turned up nothing but a plain business website with pictures of his clients. No photos of him.

Her phone beeped. “Hang on a minute, Kyle.”

“Sure.”

She looked at her phone expecting to see an incoming call, but instead found a low battery warning. “Hey, my cell is about to die. Guess we’ve been talking awhile.” She looked at the clock and her eyes widened. “Like, an hour and a half. You give good phone.”

He laughed. “Never heard that one before. I enjoyed talking to you too. Anyway, I’m sure I’ll have more work for you in the future if you’re up for more stuff with athletes.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that. Would love to sit down with you in person.”

“It will probably be awhile. I travel a lot this time of year and only manage to get home a day at a time. I’m back Friday night and out first thing Sunday morning. But we’ll get together eventually.”

“Look forward to it.” The phone beeped twice, telling her it was about to die. “Okay, my cell is about to flatline, so, bye.”

“Thanks again, Lexi.”

The phone went dead.

She got up, put her phone back on the charger and headed for the kitchen to get some celebratory Häagen Dazs rum raisin with the obligatory extra splash of rum. She couldn’t help but smile. Her agency was off life support for the moment, a Greek god wanted to take her to dinner (well, maybe) and she’d made a new friend out of a client.

All was right in the universe.

At least for now.

CHAPTER THREE

Though still bleary-eyed Saturday morning after taking the Friday red-eye from California, Kyle needed to shake off his jet lag at the gym. Shooting hoops for an hour or so and an afternoon nap would hopefully regulate his body clock before his next trip. He stopped at the desk to check out a basketball and heard the rhythmic thump from the court. “Is there actually a game going on at this hour?”

The shaggy clerk, who looked to be about eighteen, shook his head. “Just a young woman, but that’s it. You can each have a half court. I’ll be right back with a ball.”

A young woman?

He walked across the hall, looked through the plexiglass down at the court and saw the little redhead hitting shot after shot.

I’m gonna get my ass kicked again. Then again, maybe this time I can get her number…

He moved back to the desk as the clerk handed him a basketball. He wrote his name on the sign-out sheet, then looked at the clerk as he cocked his head at the court. “By the way, you know her name?”

“Sir, I can’t give out that information.”

“Sure, I understand.”

“But she’s very nice.”

He took a quick look at the sloppy signature above his. It looked like Alexandra followed by a scribble. He headed down the stairs to the basketball court and found her sitting on the bench, dripping with sweat, sipping a bottle of water. She looked up and smiled. “Well, look who’s here. Back for a re-match?”

He pretended to study her face for a moment. “I’m sorry, I don’t believe we’ve met.”

She laughed. “Very funny. It’s Kasey, right?”

“Yeah. And I still don’t know your name.” He noticed a light jacket with monogrammed initials draped over her gym bag and pointed at it. “Ah, but it begins with A.”

She nodded. “Very perceptive, Columbo. You’ve narrowed it down.”

“Wait, don’t tell me… Amy?”

“Nope.”

“Agatha?”

She furrowed her brow and pointed to her face. “Do I look eighty years old to you?”

“Sorry. Actually about fifty-five years younger.”

“Hang on, let me do the math… eighty minus fifty-five… zero minus five, borrow the one… why thank you, kind sir.”

“You’re welcome. But back to your name… you look like you’d have something really classy.”

She pointed at her face. “This sweaty mug looks classy to you?”

“Women don’t sweat, they glow.”

“Yeah, and I’m glowin’ like Secretariat.”

“Anyway, back to your name… Alexandra?”

Her eyes widened. “Damn, you’re good.”

“Really, that’s it?”

She nodded. “Yep. Mom wanted a boy and was going to name him Alex, so Alexandra was the next best thing.”

“So, do friends call you Alex? I hope not because I think Alexandra suits you better.”

“Nope.” She grabbed a towel and wiped her face. “You can totally call me Alexandra if you like.”

“I like.”

“Well, I’m about done here, but if you’re up for a little one-on-one, I’m game.”

“Why, you need to start your weekend beating the hell out of a guy?”

“Thought you might be one of those alpha males who hates losing to a woman and needs to get even.”

“Nah, I’m one of those renaissance men who treats women as equals. Though in your case I will admit you’re better than me at one thing.”

“Just one?”

“So far that’s the only thing we have to go on. I’m willing to bet I’m better at something than you are.”

She sat up straight. “What? Shooting pool? Poker? Let’s rock.”

“Planning a date.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m an expert at planning fantastic dates.”

“So, you’re saying you’re a great date?”

“You might not fall in love with me, but women are always entertained when I take them out. I’m a Jedi date master. I’m sure you couldn’t possibly beat me planning the ultimate fun date.”

She backed up a bit. “You asking me out?”

He shrugged. “Depends.”

“Depends? On what?”

“If you think you’re better than me at planning a date.”

“So what exactly are you proposing?”

“Two dates. We each plan one. Then decide which was the most enjoyable.”

“I must admit, I have not run into this clever tactic before. You’re taking advantage of my competitive nature as a backdoor method of asking me out. Surely you realize that I realize what you’re doing.”

“Of course. But the beauty of this is that if you decline I can simply assume you’re worried about losing the bet, rather than not being interested in me. And my fragile male ego wouldn’t be bruised, since, as you know, men can be devastated for weeks when turned down for a date. But you strike me as a woman who can’t turn down a challenge.”

She locked eyes with him for a moment with those fantastic eyes, sending a shiver through his body. “Okay. But I wanna see how creative you are, so let’s make this interesting. Hundred-dollar limit on the dates. And that includes a nice dinner.”

“A hundred bucks? We’re in New York City. If we do anything besides dinner we’ll be eating at a hot dog cart.”