First Star I See Tonight (Chicago Stars #8) - Susan Elizabeth Phillips Page 0,96
he realized she was staring at something. Him. It was his chest again. She was a sucker for his chest. And he was only wearing a towel. He took a long swig from the mug and let her look.
She dragged her eyes back to his face. “I don’t understand why you haven’t fired me, and I don’t like feeling that maybe you’re keeping me on because I’m putting out.”
She might as well have slapped him. “That’s bullshit! What kind of scum do you think I am?”
“I don’t think you’re scum at all.”
“Then why would you say something like that?”
“Because I can’t think of any other reason.”
“How about this? You’re the best bouncer I have.”
Even as the words came out, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. She stared at him with the saddest face he’d ever seen, then she turned and walked away.
He stopped her as she snatched up her messenger bag to leave. “You are, Piper. But that’s not why I didn’t fire you.” Hot coffee splashed on the back of his hand and he sucked it off. “I meant to fire you,” he said, setting down his mug. “You made a big mistake, and I’ve been pissed. But the thing is . . . You’re the underdog who’s willing to work twice as hard as anybody else. And those have always been the kinds of players I like best on my team.”
Until that moment, he hadn’t been able to articulate it, even to himself, but now that he’d said it, he felt better.
She looked a little starry-eyed, which he liked, and then troubled, which he didn’t like. “I appreciate that,” she said. “But the brutal fact is that I’m no closer to getting to the bottom of this than I was when you hired me. And I have no idea what to do next.”
“You’ll figure it out.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because that’s what you do.”
***
Coop’s faith put a knot in her throat the size of a football. She carried it with her all weekend. She couldn’t fail him. She couldn’t. But then she wondered if her determination to prove herself to Coop was all that different from her never-ending battle to win Duke’s approval. No, it was different. Duke’s misguided fear for her safety had kept him from giving her the opportunity she’d craved—the opportunity he’d raised her to take on. Unlike her father, Coop had given her the chance Duke had withheld, and she couldn’t disappoint him.
Monday morning found her in the main office building at the Stars Complex Headquarters in DuPage County. The team logo of three interlocking gold stars in a sky-blue circle was etched into the glass wall of the PR office—the wall that overlooked the building’s main lobby where lighted niches protected by bulletproof glass displayed the team’s major trophies and where visitors signed in at an impressive, crescent-shaped ivory granite reception desk.
With the football season in full swing, the PR office was humming with activity—phones ringing, computer screens glowing, people hurrying in and out. Coop had finally cleared the way for her to go through the mail that had accumulated for him, and a young publicist with cat’s-eye makeup and an earnest manner showed her to the room’s only empty desk and explained the procedure.
“We take care of most of Coop’s fan mail. We mail out autograph cards, his FAQ, and we have a special package for kids who write him. We work with his agent on appearance requests. Even though he’s retired, he still gets a lot of mail.”
“Any of it hostile?”
“Not much. He got some his first season with the Stars after a couple of bad games. ‘Go back to Miami.’ That kind of thing. The fans didn’t know he was playing with a broken finger.”
“What about women?”
“Thongs, nude photos. We’ve pretty much seen it all. And I do mean all.” She gestured toward the desk. “Go ahead. Take your time and let me know if you need anything else.”
“Thanks.”
Piper settled behind the pile of paper—both snail mail and e-mail printouts. The majority were requests for autographs and photos. Some of it was really sweet. Kids who idolized him. Fans who’d followed his career from the very beginning. One was from a man who’d lost his son in a car accident and found relief from his grief in remembering how his son had idolized Coop. Piper pulled that one out as something she thought Coop should personally respond to. There were also a number of notes from parents