Page 97 of Rookie Move
They poured. They sipped. Georgia’s eyes watered still.
“Look,” Becca said, sitting on the bed. “You are brave every day. There’s no disputing that. You’re the top female publicist in a malecentric organization. You’re an athlete and a kick-ass single woman. But maybe this is one of those times when you have to go backward to go forward. Leo stirred up a lot of shit that you don’t like to think about. I know you hate being scared. But if you can’t be scaredwithhim, you’re just stuck.”
“Ugh. I hate stuck.”
“I know. Me, too. Let’s watch some trash TV and criticize everyone.” Her friend scrambled onto the king-sizedbed and yanked the covers down. “It’s late. You can get unstuck tomorrow.”
“’Kay.” Georgia changed into her PJs and got into bed beside her. They drank bad wine and then fell asleep beside one another. And Georgia had courageous dreams.
***
In theory, neither Georgia nor Becca was needed at the rink at seven thirty the next morning, the way the players were.
But that didn’t stop someone from pounding on Georgia’s hotel room door the next morning.
When Georgia staggered to the door and pulled it open, Nathan stood there in a suit, every hair perfectly in place. “Have you seen Becca?” he demanded. “She’s missing.”
From the other side of Georgia’s king-sized bed, Becca sat up quickly, her face puffy from sleep. “Where’s the fire? Who’s missing?”
Nathan peered around Georgia, who saw his neck flush, possibly because Becca slept in those skimpy little bits of lingerie. “You two shared a bed? Are we that stingy with the travel budget?”
Becca shook herself awake. “No, Nathan. Slumber party! We did each other’s hair and got wasted on wine coolers.” She slipped out of the bed, and Nate averted his eyes, his neck flushing even more deeply. “What do you need, anyway?”
“Uh.” He looked confused. “The, um, ticket sales figures for Thursday’s game. Do you have them?”
“Give me fifteen minutes, sunshine,” she said, heading into the bathroom.
After that unusual wake-up call, the day was the usual crazy ride. Georgia worked through the morning practice, then took O’Doul and Bayer to an appearance at a local radio station. She ate lunch while returning e-mails then put on some workout gear and made her way over to the stadium in time for a noon yoga class.
As it turned out, admitting to Becca she was scared to lose Leo unfortunately did not make her anylessscared.Even as she showed her ID to the security guard and began walking through the underbelly of the old stadium, her stomach quivered. Would today be the day Leo disappeared?
There were six days left until the trade deadline. How did athletes live with that axe hanging over their heads all the time? Every season was like a long game of Russian roulette.
Georgia wandered around the poorly marked venue hallways, wondering if maybe the whole team had been traded. The place was practically a labyrinth, and just as charming—the hallways were just concrete tunnels lit by caged lightbulbs overhead.
Sexy.
Just when she was starting to get frustrated, Georgia heard Leo’s voice. She’d know the cognac tones of his laugh anywhere, and that was definitely him behind a partially open door marked VISITORS. She stopped walking, her shoulders sagging with relief.
“You okay?” someone asked.
Georgia spun around to spot O’Doul stretching in the shadows, against one of the barren concrete walls. “I’m fine,” she said quickly.Heart palpitations over the trade deadline are perfectly normal for someone my age, right?“Is it time for yoga?”
“Almost,” he said. “Walk with me.” He tipped his head toward the far end of the hallway.
Since Georgia had no idea where the class would be held, she was happy to fall in step with him. “What’s up, captain?”
He chuckled. “I hear that Hugh wants to make us all go out for karaoke next week. Singing is not really my idea of a good time, but listening to these guys stink it up on stage sounds like a blast.”
“That’s kind of the point of karaoke,” she pointed out.
“You sing? I can’t quite picture it.”
There had been a time in her life when Georgia wasalways the first one onstage. “I’m good at lyrics. I do Eminem pretty well.”
“No shit?” O’Doul laughed. “I have to see that.”
“Okay,” she promised. Bravery came in many forms, apparently. Paragliding was one thing. But letting loose in front of the people you worked with day in and day out counted, too. Why had she never realized this before?
