скачать книгу бесплатно
She let several silent seconds tick by, then reached for her handbag and pulled out the envelope. Since Cale paid no attention to the rustle of paper, she cleared her throat.
He threw her a wary glance. Crystal saw more than she wanted to see. More than he wanted her to see. The man was hurting, and not just on the outside. She doubted it had anything to do with his physical condition.
“What’s that?” Cale shifted his gaze to the neatly typed page she’d unfurled.
“An offer of employment from Lyon Broadcasting. One of our sportscasters took a job in L.A. Nate Fraser, the sports director at WDIX-TV, wants you to replace him. So does André Lyon, and Michael McKay, head of personnel. It’s all in this letter of intent.”
“I’m not some over-the-hill quarterback you can dress in a monkey suit and slap behind a desk to talk about the game. I’m a player. A damn good one. I’ve got six more years in me if I’ve got a day.” He plucked the letter out of her hand and ripped it in two. As the pieces settled, he said venomously, “Tell Fraser to get the hell out of my face. Goes double for you, lady.”
Once again Crystal changed her opinion of the great Caleb Tanner. He was a spoiled brat. An egomaniac, too. She slammed the lid on her sax case as the outer door opened. In whisked the wiry man she’d seen leaving Tanner’s room yesterday.
“Cale? I heard you shouting all the way down the hall.” The newcomer trained his eyes on Crystal. “I don’t know the problem, so I can’t apologize for my client. I’m Cale’s agent, Leland Bergman.”
“It’s a case of killing the messenger. I could have brought Nate back a simple no just as easily.”
“Nate?” Leland rested his briefcase on Caleb’s bed.
Crystal hefted her sax and her handbag and started for the door, never glancing at Tanner. “I had the dubious honor of delivering Nate Fraser’s offer to hire Mr. Tanner as a WDIX-TV sportscaster.” She inclined her head toward the two halves of the letter. “I’m on my way now to relay Tanner’s refusal.”
“Hold on.” Leland loped across the floor. He tugged Crystal back into the room. After releasing her, he fitted the letter pieces together and read them.
Caleb sat through the whole ordeal without moving, as if carved from rock.
When Leland finished, he dropped the pieces into Cale’s lap and waited until he bad his client’s attention. “It’s a good offer,” Leland said with a catch in his voice. “I don’t mind saying, Cale, it’ll make my news a little easier to take. The Sinners won’t wait on another doctor’s opinion. They’ve given you the final sack, old buddy.”
Crystal had to turn away and blink her eyes. The last time she’d seen a man look so utterly devastated, she’d been eight. The news had been as bluntly delivered. A doctor had stridden into a waiting room where Crystal sat with her father and announced that her mother had died in recovery after a simple tonsillectomy. She’d hemorrhaged, and no one had been able to stop the bleeding. Crystal’s world—and her father’s—had shifted on its axis. Tanner’s had clearly just done the same.
Bergman was talking about a career change, not death. Still, Tanner obviously wasn’t going to do it. In her opinion, WDIX would be better off without him, although Nate and the others would be disappointed. She’d better go call them. Except that she still hadn’t fulfilled her promise to Skip’s friends.
“Mr. Bergman, there are five kids in a ward down the hall who’d love a signed photo of your client. They will always be his fans.”
Caleb rallied, emerging from his misery. “I forgot. Leland, are there any promo shots left in the bottom dresser drawer?”
Leland found them and shoved a stack at Crystal. “You want the little lady to hold off telling Fraser no—don’t you, Cale?”
“I want to play, Lee. Call Miami. They were sniffing around in the spring.”
“As soon as they hear the Sinners wire-brushed you due to injuries, nobody’ll be interested anymore. At least consider Fraser’s offer.”
Cale looked stubborn. “The money’s pocket change, Leland.”
Crystal almost swallowed her teeth.
The agent slicked a hand through thinning hair. “So ask for a hundred grand.”
“They’ll never pay it,” Crystal sputtered, fearing in her heart that they would.
Leland hustled her to the door. “Ask them, darlin’,” he whispered loudly. “Come back later with a counter. I’ll keep the Sinners from releasing a statement until Cale hammers out this deal.”
Crystal found herself outside in the hall staring at the closed door. A hundred thousand dollars to comment on a few games a year? They were out of their ever-loving gourds.
CHAPTER THREE
CRYSTAL DECIDED to grab some lunch and call André before going to see Skip and the other boys to give them their keepsakes. The crowded cafeteria pulsed with noisy chatter. Doctors and nurses who ordinarily ate in one of the hospital’s three open courtyards had been driven inside by the storm.
She chose a shrimp salad and a cup of coffee and settled into a corner table by a window. Fat raindrops beat steadily against the glass. Warming her hands on the cup, Crystal dreaded calling André. It was hard to gauge how he’d react. Probably he’d be upset. She ought to have explained to Tanner how generous the offer really was. But no, he wanted more. He wouldn’t have listened to reason. To top it off, he’d acted as if eighty-five thousand was a paltry amount.
Thank goodness it wasn’t her problem. She coordinated all department budgets and gave input into spending patterns. The decision to spend an obscene amount of money to hire a name—and to Crystal Caleb Tanner’s name was the only thing he had of any worth—belonged to the company principals, mainly André and Gaby. Margaret always backed them. Charles had almost ceased participating, and as for his sons...well, Alain and Raymond opposed everything André put on the table. Jason rarely attended meetings. Scott avoided all family politics. But spending money always caused major bickering.
Still, she couldn’t sit here procrastinating forever. Swallowing a bite of salad, Crystal took her cell phone out of her handbag and quickly punched in André’s number. “Hi, it’s me,” she said inanely in response to his greeting. “Tanner tore up our offer, André. I hope you don’t fall off your chair, but get this. His bottom line is one hundred thousand. Plus benefits, I’m sure. I let him know the figure was preposterous.”
She held the phone away from her ear as André responded.
“You’re telling me to go for it? Do you know how much of a slice that takes out of the sports budget? We paid Jerry Davis half that and he came to WDIX an experienced broadcaster. For all you know, Tanner might freeze in front of the camera.”
Crystal cradled the phone on her shoulder while she poked at the shrimp among her salad greens. The more determination she heard in André’s voice, the less hungry she became. “Okay,” she said. “I’ll concede that might be far-fetched. I realize you’ve seen him field sports interviews. Of course Lyon Broadcasting is solvent. Yes, we have money in the discretionary fund. André, maybe it’d be better if you and Nate came and talked to Tanner. I’ll go back to the office and adjust the short- and long-term planning figures to reflect your decision.”
She shoved her salad away. “I know you want him. It just seemed such an absurd request I didn’t seriously imagine you’d go that high.”
Sighing, Crystal massaged her forehead. “Okay. Will you print another letter of intent with the new dollar amounts and run it over here? Two copies. You sign both and I’ll have Tanner do the same—maybe. If he goes for it. You might want to include a list of benefits. I have a feeling he’ll ask what all we’re offering. Buzz me when you’re a couple of blocks from the hospital. I’ll come out to the curb and collect the envelope so you don’t have to fight for parking.”
After she hung up, she drank her cold coffee and contemplated what quirk in male brains made them elevate sports figures to the top of the salary pyramid. Well, top salary for an independent TV station, anyway. And from Tanner’s remarks it wasn’t even close to what he made throwing a stupid ball around a cow pasture. But then, rock stars pulled down indecent money compared to most jazz musicians she knew. More of life’s unfairness, she supposed.
The cafeteria had begun to empty. Rather than visit the boys while she waited for André’s call, Crystal refilled her coffee cup. Better to sew up this deal with Tanner and get it out of her system. Kids were so perceptive. Skipper, especially, because of the stream of foster families he’d lived with could pick up moods easily. Crystal didn’t want him worrying about her little snit.
Ultimately she downed three cups of coffee before André called. Her teeth might be on edge from an overdose of caffeine, but at least the storm had blown over and the rain had stopped. The sun had popped out and steam rose off the sidewalks by the time Crystal jogged out to the street to meet André’s car. He wasn’t alone. Nate and Michael were with him.
“Sure you won’t handle this, André?” she pleaded again as he shoved the manila envelope into her hand. “I’ll smuggle you past the nurses’ station.”
Nate leaned across André. “Pro athletes can be superstitious as heu, Crystal. We don’t know that Tanner is, but no sense rocking the canoe, if you know what I mean. He’s talking to you, and that suits me fine. Say, André forgot to ask—did Cale mention how long it’d be before we can expect him to come on board?”
“We, uh, didn’t get to the particulars. I doubt we’d have progressed beyond him ripping up our letter if his agent hadn’t shown up.”
André frowned. “Is Bergman involved in our negotiations? If so, the tab may go even higher.”
Crystal flattened herself against the car as an SUV plowed through a puddle and water sprayed from beneath its big wheels. “Mr. Bergman’s the one who urged Tanner to reconsider taking the job. I gathered he’s only just found out for sure that the Sinners aren’t going to renew Caleb’s contract.”
“So it’s official?” Nate played drumbeats on André’s dash. “I’m glad you beefed up the benefits, André. We’ll hit him while he’s still reeling. Stay with him until he signs, Crystal. And be nice. Tell him what he wants to hear. That he’ll have a generous travel allowance and his own expense account.”
“What?” Crystal bent down and thrust her head into the car. “Am I going to have to fight with him over road expenses the way I do with you, Nate? You can’t give an employee an unlimited expense account. It’s financial suicide. Tell him, Michael.”
André cleared his throat. “It’s not open-ended, Crystal. But we’d rather wait to set the parameters after Caleb starts work and we have a better sense of what his duties will be. Can you avoid stating an exact amount? Just indicate it’ll be generous.”
“I think you’re all nuts,” she muttered. “A monkey in silk is still a monkey.”
“Oh, that’s something else,” Nate said. “While Michael drew up the new offer, I did some digging into Cale’s background. He graduated from Texas A & M with a degree in communications.”
“I’ll bet. Everybody knows college counselors give jocks do-nothing courses.”
Nate smiled. “Used to be true, thank heaven. Otherwise I’d have never made it through Georgia State. Now everybody has to pull his weight academically. Cale carried a 3.8 grade point. So give credit where credit’s due.”
“Sure,” she said sweetly. “I happen to know you graduated magna cum laude, Nathan. Jill showed me your college scrapbook.”
“Why’d she do a dumb thing like that?” He frowned.
“Maybe she wanted people at work to know you were more than just a pretty face.”
That brought guffaws from the others. Nate Fraser’s face could be called many things. Rugged. Lived-in. Maybe even kind. But pretty? Definitely not.
Nate slumped back into his seat. “Get on with you, white girl,” he growled. “Quit stalling. André’s blocked the passenger unloading zone long enough. And don’t you be telling Cale I do okay in the brains department. As director, I get more respect pretending to be a dumb jock.”
Crystal couldn’t help smiling as she trudged back to Tanner’s room. It wasn’t often she got one up on Nate. She wished she’d thought to use the information about his academic career before. Like when Nate claimed he messed up his expense account because he couldn’t get the hang of debits and credits.
This time when she approached Tanner’s door, she didn’t hear any noise. On checking, she discovered the drapes had been pulled to darken the room. Tanner was alone, but not asleep. He worked with a set of hand weights while staring dejectedly at a blank TV screen. His lunch tray sat untouched.
The ravaged expression on his face walloped Crystal before she had a chance to erect defenses. “Hi. It’s me again.” Her voice squeaked as she stumbled over the banal greeting.
His eyes, jade-dark and overflowing with dashed hopes, studied her. “I’m rotten company, sugar. On the other hand, I’d just as soon not be alone right now.”
Crystal stepped fully into the room. Nate’s recent directive pounded through her head. Be nice to him. He did look as if he needed a friend. She glanced around and saw that the room had three chairs. Selecting one, she sat and placed her handbag in another, then propped her sax case against the third. “Will Mr. Bergman be back soon?”
“Agents can’t afford to waste their time on cripples. He’s probably glued to his cell phone, looking for new blood.”
Crystal pulled her hair over one shoulder, separated it into three heavy strands and began braiding it automatically. “So you exploded like a volcano and threw him out, huh?”
He stopped lifting the weights. “If you’re planning to add shrink to your list of accomplishments, you can take a hike, too. I’ll have agents beating down my door once this leg heals.” He slapped at the covers, accidentally throwing one of the small barbells he’d been lifting into his injured knee.
His grimace of pain told Crystal all she needed to know. She wrapped a scrunchie around the bottom end of her braid and flipped it behind her. “I don’t want to play devil’s advocate, Tanner, but it doesn’t appear that’ll happen anytime soon. You can’t kick a football until you can walk.”
“I don’t kick the football,” he said coldly. “I’m a quarterback. I throw the ball.”
Her arched eyebrow implied it was all the same thing.
Caleb crossed his arms. “I can see you’re dying to give me the perfect alternative. Well, since you’re back, I assume Fraser came up with a counteroffer. Let’s have it, then,” he muttered. “Get this over with.”
Crystal reached into her bag and removed the envelope. This time she handed him the whole thing, instead of taking out the letter as she had before. “There are two copies of the agreement and a list of benefits. Read it carefully, Mr. Tanner. To be offered more, you’d have to be willing to live in New York or L.A. This is on the high end for a station our size. André’s been more than charitable.”
He flung the envelope down, unopened. Lips thinned into a harsh line, he said, “I’m not a charity case yet. You tell that to whoever the hell André is.”
“André Lyon. The Lyons own WDIX radio and TV. His parents were television pioneers. Our station has left its mark on this country.”
“And you don’t want me tarnishing its sterling image, isn’t that right, sugar? I can tell you think I’m not fit to wipe the feet of those Lyon dudes.”
Crystal gasped. As a rule she masked her feelings well. Unable to meet his challenging green eyes, she lowered her lashes. “What I think or don’t think isn’t the issue here, Mr. Tanner. The offer for employment is a good one, and it’s legitimate.”
“Caleb,” he snarled, grabbing the envelope and ripping it open. “Have you got a beef with the name, sugar? Or with me? Was I rude to you at a game once when you tried to flirt? If so, you have my humblest apologies. So many women slink up and wind around players after a game it’s hard to distinguish one from another.”
This time not only did Crystal gasp, she shot right out of her chair, trembling with anger. “I have never been to a game,” she said haughtily. “I realize this may shock your ego, Tanner, but I don’t consider myself deprived. And if you don’t want the other leg to wind up in a cast, I’d advise you to stop calling me sugar.”
Caleb stared at her a moment, then laughed. “I thought it was unAmerican to dislike the national sport. Which is football, sug...uh, Crystal.”
Suddenly glad for André and Nate’s sake that she hadn’t let her temper totally blow the deal with Tanner, Crystal sank into the chair again and smoothed down her skirt. “There’re probably only a couple of us renegades in the entire U.S. of A.,” she said with a deprecating shrug. I’m certainly not representative of the crew at WDIX. Nor of our viewers. Our sports programs have a huge following. And it goes without saying that sports generates sponsors.”
Drawing the sheets from the envelope, Caleb read through the offer twice before he moved on to the page listing the benefits. His heart plunged as he compared what Crystal thought was a generous salary to what he’d been getting. At a hundred thou, with Uncle Sam’s bite, he’d be lucky to pull off Patsy’s wedding and pay Jenny’s college fees. For sure he’d have to find new digs. The five thousand a month he paid in rent now represented a huge chunk of change.
Crystal cleared her throat. “Is there something about the offer you need clarified? Something that particularly bothers you?”
“Everything about it bothers me, sweetheart How long does Fraser expect me to sign on for? I mean, does he understand I’ll go back to playing when my leg gets to a hundred percent?”
She looked perplexed. “I’m not sure I know what you mean. A two-week notice is standard. Jerry Davis gave three, I think. It’s his slot Nate hopes you’ll fill. But he did wonder when you’d be available. If the doctors have given you a release date, that is.”
“You mean I won’t have to sign a contract for a set amount of time?”
Her lips quirked at the corners. “Ever heard of free enterprise, Tanner? Haven’t you worked in the private sector?”
He gave that question consideration. At last he shook his head. “As a kid, I helped on the farm. You don’t get paid for that. You’re lucky to get three squares a day and a roof over your head. I signed with the Cowboys right out of college.”
“The Cowboys?” She looked blank.
Cale snickered. “Are you for real? The Dallas Cowboys, darlin’. As in NFL champions. Emmitt Smith, Deion Sanders, Michael Irvin.” When she continued to look blank, he quit laughing. “Nobody can be that out of touch with sports.”
“I am. And I don’t consider it a laughing matter. I hate team sports. They’re dangerous and violent.”
“Hell, darlin’, driving a car is dangerous. TV movies are violent.”
“Don’t call me darlin’. We were discussing André’s offer. Are you interested in working for Lyon Broadcasting or not?”
“Not. I’m interested in getting back on my feet and into the game again. But as Leland pointed out before he left, Lyon’s offered me an ace in the hole. Give me a pen and I’ll put my John Hancock on this form.”
Feeling smug at her success, Crystal pawed through her bag. When she failed to turn up a pen, she stood and walked over to his nightstand. “You had pens in the middle drawer earlier.”
“Yeah. Say, is the kid happy I signed his football?”
“I haven’t been to the ward to give it to him yet. He’ll be ecstatic. That’s all he’ll talk about for months.”
Cale started to say something, but the phone on his nightstand rang. “Catch that for me, would you?” he asked, his eyes vaguely panicky. “If it’s any of the guys from the team, tell them I’m being X-rayed or something.”
Sympathy kicking in again, she handed him a pen and nodded. “Hello,” she chirped into the phone, sounding a bit rushed and breathless.
“No, I’m not Caleb’s nurse or therapist,” Crystal said smoothly. She nonchalantly handed him the receiver. “I can safely say it’s not one of your teammates,” she whispered.
Eyes narrowed, he tucked the phone against his ear. “Well, hello, sugar pie. ’Course it’s not inconvenient. You can call me anytime, Jenny.” He signed the second copy of the intent letter, shoved both toward Crystal, then settled into the stack of pillows. From the smile that softened his face, Crystal decided the female caller was his special lady. She felt uncomfortable eavesdropping. He tacked endearments on the end of every sentence. Even when they were evidently discussing his caller’s car.
“Sounds like a clogged fuel filter, hon. I wish I could be there to change it, too, sweet pea. You know I can’t. Call Waylon Gill. Tell him what I think the trouble is. Don’t you worry about a thing, darlin’. What’s important is for you to be on wheels I can trust. Have Gill put it on my card.”
Crystal felt a moment’s envy for the woman on the other end of the phone line. Caleb Tanner dispensed love along with his handouts. Her father had lavished her with money, but she couldn’t remember a time he’d offered loving advice. Or any advice. When she was little, Roger Jardin had expected his aunt Anita to handle any problems that arose. And from the time she turned twelve, he assumed Crystal was old enough and capable enough to work things out for herself. For the most part she had. Still, there’d been times during high school and college when she would have liked someone to rely on. At least someone to run decisions by, to discuss things with.
Now she had Margaret. Or maybe not. Crystal’s fear that something might have happened to her favorite relative tied her stomach in knots. From the minute Crystal had applied for an accounting job at WDIX—really from the minute Margaret realized who she was—the kind nurturing woman had brought her into a family who’d welcomed her, who’d opened wide the doors of Lyoncrest. And she loved living in the historic old house.
