The Alpha's Second Chance Page 3

  I needed to get out of this house and do something normal to get my mind off of all of this. Grabbing my phone, I called the most sane person I knew.

  “Terrance! Wassup?”

  “Hey, bitch. Wassup.”

  “Very funny.” I was glad he could joke about it, at least. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m just wrapping up with that kid I’m mentoring.”

  “Is he sitting right there?” I was shocked that he would swear in front of a kid. Terrance was one of the most wholesome guys I knew.

  “Naw. He’s in the bathroom. But he’s walking back now. Can I call you in like ten?”

  “Actually, do you want to meet at Brews and Booze?” It was an out of the way craft brewery in the city of Humble, where we could go without a lot of attention.

  “Sure. Meet you in about an hour.”

  Hanging up the phone, I was glad that Terrance was acting normal. Everyone else was treating me like a pariah.

  I guess it’s true what they say about how you know who your real friends are.

  I’d given Kyle and Charlie the night off, so I would have to drive myself. Normally, I’d take the Porsche or my new Lamborghini Aventador. But I was in the mood to lay low, so I’d probably just take the Mercedes that I kept around for the staff.

  Pulling a baseball cap over my blonde hair, I realized that it was time to get a haircut. Like a lot of athletes, I get pretty superstitious about things, and didn’t cut my hair the whole time we were in the playoffs. It wasn’t too long, but it was getting long enough to be annoying.

  I didn’t have time to shave, and besides, I was still fairly clean shaven from the interview. Just a long five o'clock shadow.

  I was just wearing a pair of jeans and a Twenty One Pilots t-shirt, and a pair of cowboy boots because, well, this was Texas. If you didn’t know any better, I just looked like a regular guy. Hopefully everyone would just leave us alone tonight.

  “What the hell?” Terrance was waiting for me when I got there. “Are you undercover or something?” He stood up to greet me and I was struck by how fit he looked in his black t-shirt and jeans. We’d only been in the off-season for a few weeks and I’d already gained five pounds.

  I gave him a “bro hug” and said, “What? Are the dark glasses too Men In Black?”

  “Not if I get to be Will Smith.” He laughed and sat back down, and I motioned for the waitress before pulling out the chair next to him.

  We were at a small table in the back of the room, and I was glad that his was the kind of honky tonk place that a celebrity could go and not get recognized. Except, unlike some of the other dive bars, this one served good beer.

  The waitress came and I ordered a beer and some spicy wings. Terrance just shook his head no when she asked if he wanted anything.

  “So, what the fuck happened, Shawn?” he leaned in to ask.

  “Man, I have no idea. One minute I’m on ESPN talking about pay equity between athletes and the next thing I know that damn Toni Falcon is on me like barbecue sauce on a rib.”

  “What are they gonna do?” He took a big sip from his beer, finishing it off. “Fine you?”

  I shook my head. “Pete called and said that they want my head over this and the only way out is to take some damn sensitivity training.”

  “Ha! Now that’s funny. I’d pay money just to see you in some circle talking about your feelings.”

  “Right?”

  “What if you just refused?” He leaned back so the waitress could serve my food and beer. “Can I get a sparkling water?”

  “I can’t. Even Sam called and said my sponsors are threatening to walk over this. I absolutely have to go.”

  “Do you know where?” He shook his head no when I offered him a chicken wing.

  As if he’d conjured up the answer, my phone rang. My fingers were covered in sauce so I answered it with my pinkie.

  “Shawn?”

  “Yeah. It’s Shawn.”

  “Susan Dyson. From HR? Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  Wiping my fingers clean with a napkin I picked the phone up. “No, no. Terrance White and I are just grabbing a bite. I was expecting your call though.”

  “Yeah, I have the information on the … uh … training you’re getting.”

  “It’s okay, Susan. Terrance knows, and you’re not on speaker phone.”

  “Oh, okay. Well, it’s next weekend in Breckenridge, Colorado.”

  “Colorado?” Why the hell were they flying me all the way to Colorado? “Isn’t there a closer one?”

  “No, this lady is the best in the country. She’s one of the folks who helped A-Rod get back his reputation. Anyway, I’ll send you the details, but wanted to let you know that it’s next weekend.”

  “Sounds good, Susan.” I ended the call, and shook my head. Well, maybe if this chick helped A-Rod, I could end up engaged to someone like J-Lo.

  “You’re going to Colorado?” Terrance nodded his head in approval. “Great skiing. Maybe you can tap a ski bunny while you’re there.”

  “That would be damn funny. Imagine my pickup line? ‘So what brings you to Breckenridge?’ ‘Oh, I’m in sensitivity training for calling a chick a bitch on national TV and suggesting that she needed to get laid.’ Yeah. That should work.”

  Terrance was laughing so hard at that mental image that I had to wait for him to stop so he could reply. “True, true. Okay, well, maybe you could actually learn something, then.”

  I dug into another spicy chicken wing and shook my head. “That’s doubtful, my friend. Very doubtful.”

  6

  Lauren: Exes and O’s

  I was more than a little regretting my decision to make room for Shawn in the training. Not only did it kind of blur the lines ethically (although I hadn’t seen the guy in almost ten years), but I honestly had no desire to spend any time with my ex-boyfriend.

  On the other hand, I’d been trying to get an “in” to the NFL for years. If I were able to redeem a star quarterback, I might be able to work with other NFL players. Besides, this was sort of a personal challenge. If I could reform Shawn Ryan, a guy who I personally knew to be a sexist jerk, then I could reform anyone.

  My car was packed with my weekend bag and I was on my way to Breckenridge. The hotel was about eighty miles from my office, and this time of day it would take about two hours. I liked to stay at One Ski Hill Place, but because the rooms ran about a thousand dollars a night this time of year, I could only swing it with my elite programs. It wasn’t just the money at a high end hotel like this. It was about the privacy factor too. People tended to leave celebrities alone a lot more there than at mid-range hotels.

  When I did these weekends for smaller companies or individuals, I chose a more average priced hotel because no one was coming up to the upper management of The Home Depot and asking for their autographs.

  Because this weekend was a group of professional athletes and celebrities, though, we’d reserved a group of rooms. One Ski Hill Place had condos ranging from studios to three bedrooms, but we usually only needed the studios. I couldn’t wait to settle in front of the fireplace with a glass of wine and take in the stunning vistas outside my living room window. I’d been doing this long enough that it kind of felt like a home away from home.

  My phone rang, and I could see that it was Savannah. We hadn’t talked since my disastrous date the other morning.

  “Hey, Savannah.”

  “Hey Roar. Are you on your way to Breck?” She’d given me that nickname one night when we were singing karaoke to a Katy Perry song, and it kind of stuck.

  “Yeah. I’m about halfway there.”

  “I am envious. I have to spend all weekend preparing for a case. You get to spend yours skiing and hot tubbing with celebrities.”

  “Hardly. I’m working all weekend too.”

  “Anyone interesting coming?” Her tone let me know she knew I couldn’t tell her.

  “Oh yeah. Albert Einstein and Fidel Castro,” I laughed. Th
ere were many times when I wished I could tell her about what went on in our training sessions, but not only was it unprofessional, but it violated the standards of confidentiality.

  “Did you invite Jeff?”

  “God, no! Are you on crack or something? What on earth would make you think I would like him?”

  “You didn’t like him?” She sounded genuinely shocked.

  “No, I didn’t like him! It was the longest coffee date of my life. And it was only forty five minutes.”

  “I honestly can’t believe that. He seems so sweet and charming at the office.”

  “He did nothing but talk about himself and drop hints about how successful he was.”

  “Oh, God. I am so sorry!” She really sounded it, too.

  “He told me if I kept drinking frappuccinos I was going to get fat.”

  She started laughing. “Sounds like he needs some sensitivity training.”

  “Right? Anyway, thanks for thinking of me. But, do me a favor?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Stop thinking of me.” I could find my own boyfriends, thank you.

  I pulled my Jaguar F-Pace up to the valet and got out to grab my bag, but the porter already had it.

  “Here you are, Ms. Gordon.” Benny handed me the small leather weekender. “Did you have any additional luggage this afternoon, or are you only with us for the weekend?”

  “Just the weekend.” I took my bag from him and tipped him anyway.

  He tried to refuse.”Oh, that’s not necessary.”

  I just smiled and said, “That’s why they call it a tip, Benny. Isn’t your anniversary coming up?”

  He laughed and closed the back door of the Jag. “Yes, it is. Next week we’ll be married twenty five years.”

  “I thought so. Well, buy her something a little extra on me.”

  “You are too kind, Ms. Gordon,” Benny said as the valet drove my car away. “Have a good weekend.”

  That was the difference between acquaintances and friends and clients. The former thought I was “kind,” “nice,” and “sweet.” My friends and clients knew I was anything but.

  After walking in the expansive A-frame entrance, I headed straight to the front desk. Even though I spent my career working with celebrities of various kinds, I still couldn’t help checking out the lobby to see which famous people were checking in for the weekend. I wasn’t disappointed, as I saw Gwyneth Paltrow at the front desk with her two kids Apple and Moses, checking in for a quick ski weekend.

  “Nice to see you again, Ms. Gordon.” The young woman smiled at me and slid the key across the desk. “Your usual room was available. I’m assuming that’s all right?”

  “Yes, Emma, thank you.” I smiled back, but was really only half paying attention. My mind was alert to the comings and goings at the front door.

  I was a little irritated at myself when I discovered that I was looking to see if Shawn was here yet.

  Shaking away the thoughts, I headed down the hall to the elevators. Pushing the button and waiting for the elevator to arrive, my mind drifted back to Shawn again. I’d seen him on TV, but wondered what he would look like in person after all these years.

  The doors slid open and I caught a look at myself in the reflection of some glass against the back wall. Had I changed all that much since college?

  I was no longer that naive girl who believed Shawn when he told me “it wasn’t what it looked like.” My hair was still naturally auburn, and the few grays I found now and then were still easy to pull out. I was only 27, so there weren’t too many wrinkles around my eyes yet.

  Shawn was, what, 28 now? He was about nine months older than me, and I’d skipped a grade in elementary school, which is why I graduated high school at seventeen. I’d only been nineteen when he and I had broken up.

  The elevator doors opened and I smelled the familiar smells of sage and lavender as I walked down the hall to my room. One Ski Hill Place was a “ski in” hotel, meaning that you could literally come straight off the mountain and ski straight up to the hotel. As such, I passed groups of people laughing, wearing ski clothes and holding skis, and heading back in from an afternoon of skiing. They’d probably head down for an après ski cocktail or even some bowling. I’d actually reserved the bowling alley for an hour very early Sunday morning for an exercise with our group.

  Suddenly, I felt tired and a little sad. As I opened the door to my room, I barely noticed the dramatic mountain view or the sky that was streaked purple and pink as the sun made its way down.

  I hadn’t seen Shawn Ryan since I was a teenager. He’d been my first love, my first lover, and the one I thought I’d marry someday. But he changed along the way, and we’d spent our lives apart. What was it going to be like to see him again after all these years?

  I poured myself that glass of wine and went over to the couch to sit down. It had been a long week, and I had a busy weekend ahead.

  7

  Shawn: Do You Know Who You Are?

  Pretty much everything that could go wrong on this trip had already, and I wasn’t even at the hotel yet.

  Kyle was still acting weird, and honestly if he didn’t knock it off by the time I got back, we were going to have to have a talk. I wasn’t about to have an employee who refused to side with me when the chips were down. Where was the loyalty?

  After getting negative vibes from my driver, the airline lost my first class reservation and I had to fly coach. And not even regular coach, but the kind where you don’t have an assigned seat and I got stuck in the very back row in a seat that didn’t recline, right next to the lavatory, in between a boyfriend and girlfriend who evidently had just broken up as they were waiting to board the plane. She sat by the window, crying for the entire five hour flight, and he sat in the aisle ordering round after round of those tiny bottles of vodka.

  I had been grateful, at least, that no one recognized me; after all, who’d have expected that a major NFL quarterback would be crammed into a back row seat? Grateful, but only until this one guy who was in line for the bathroom said, very loudly, “Hey! Do you know who you are?” He was literally pointing at me, and I tried to shrink down and pull my hat over my face, but it was too late. Mr. Loud had already seen me.

  “I’m afraid you must have me mistaken for someone else.”

  “No! No I don’t. You’re Shawn Ryan! Hey Evelyn!” he started to wave at someone a few rows up and said, “Evelyn! This is Shawn Ryan! Quarterback for the Heroes. Your brother is never gonna believe this.”

  At this announcement, people started turning their heads to look back and I just wanted to disappear. He was about to start talking to me when, thankfully, a flight attendant made him go back to his seat. But it was too late. Mr. Breakup had noticed and proceeded to spend the rest of the flight regaling me with stories of his high school football days.

  Once I finally got off the plane, the car and driver they’d ordered for me at Denver International Airport never arrived, and I had to rent one myself. It was too far to take an Uber to Breckenridge. It wasn’t the money, but more a matter of finding someone willing to drive that far.

  The only car that was available on such short notice was a Nissan Versa. Let’s just say that it didn’t handle the same as my Lamborghini, and when I pushed my foot on the accelerator, the car acted like it wasn’t sure whether or not to actually go.

  By the time I finally made it to the resort, I was tired, wanted a beer, and to watch some TV in my room.

  Unfortunately, the same moron who messed up my driver also messed up my hotel reservation, and they had no record whatsoever of me coming.

  “I’m sorry, sir, I don’t see you in our system, and we are fully booked,” the man said to me as I finally got to the head of the line.

  “Yes, and I am one of those bookings. Check again.”

  He tapped on the keys and then said shook his head and said, “No, sir. I don’t see it.”

  Looking around the lobby at all the happy skiers in their turt
lenecks and sweaters and ski clothes, I felt myself losing patience. I just wanted to sit down and rest. It had been a hell of a week, and my weekend wasn’t looking much better.

  “Oh!” the man exclaimed. “I see it.”

  “Thank god.”

  “But the reservation isn’t until tomorrow night. Saturday through Monday.”

  “No, it’s Friday through Monday.” I’d added on an extra two nights so I could get in some skiing before heading back to Houston.

  He shook his head. “I’m afraid not. And, as I mentioned, we are — ”

  “Fully booked. Yes. You mentioned.” I rubbed my eyes impatiently. “What am I supposed to do now? I’m taking part in some training in the morning. I have to be here.”

  The line was backing up behind me and the man said, “I can make some calls, if you’d like, to see if another property has any accommodations this evening.”

  “Fine. I’m going to wait in the bar. Come get me when you find something.” I grabbed my bag and headed toward the bar area.

  The place was so crowded that I hadn’t been able to find a seat or even get a beer before the man from the front desk came and got me.

  I followed him back to the lobby and he talked as we walked. “I called around, sir, and I’m afraid that the only room I could find for you is at the Super 8 Motel in Dillon.”

  “Dillon? Where’s that?”

  “It’s about ten miles away. I can offer you a complimentary ski lift voucher as our way of apologizing for the mixup.”

  I was looking at him and thinking, I’m a multimillionaire, pal. Do you really think a $185 ski lift voucher is going to make up for the fact that I have to spend the night in a Super 8 ten miles away? But I was too tired to argue about it, so I just said thanks and headed back to the valet to pick up my rented Versa.

  Of course, it was starting to snow. So now I’d have to find my way to Dillon, ten miles in the dark and snow, instead of sitting in a four star resort with a drink and a remote control in my hand.