Most Valuable Playboy(22)

“Fuck,” he says, seething as he spins in an angry circle, stomping his foot. “Maxine is trying to fondle the fruit?”

I laugh. “Yeah. Seems she wants to unpeel my banana.”

He scrubs his hand over his whole face. “I’m not happy about this.”

“No kidding. The banana isn’t hers.”

“And you know how Jasper is when it comes to his sister.” He pauses and spits out the word. “Oblivious. The sun rises and sets with Maxine.”

“Right, but disaster averted, so can we just move on? I have enough on my mind with the prospect of playoffs and, oh yeah, that other matter of not knowing whether I’m getting an extension.”

“In theory, we can move on.” He takes a beat, stares at me, then delivers his edict. “But in practice, you’re better off pretending with Violet. For now, while I negotiate.”

I blink. He can’t be serious, can he? How the hell does he think I’m going to pretend to be with a girl who’s just a friend? I point out the obvious. “But it’s not real.”

“Wah. Wah. Wah.”

I park a hand on my hip. “Did you just mock me like I’m being a baby?”

He grabs his imaginary violin and plays a sad tune. “I did. Is that so hard, to pretend you’re with her?”

I give him a you-can’t-be-serious look. “Pretend we’re together for real?”

“You did it on stage last night. I’m presuming you’ve got some fucking stamina. Keep that shit up.”

“I have more stamina in one night than you will ever have in a lifetime.”

“Brains, beauty, and humility,” he says, smacking my back. “God, I love you. Listen, this is your time. Earlier in the season, the GM would have dropped you like a hot potato. They were going to let you become a free agent with the way you were playing.”

I heave a sigh, hating the reminder of those first two games. “I know.”

“But I knew you had it in you to turn it around, and you did. You did it with a workman-like focus on the game. You did it by doing your goddamn job. Things are different now, and we need to strike just the right balance to get the best possible deal. You keep throwing like this, and no way will they let you go to free agency. You’re playing like the field general they want you to be, and if you keep it up through the last two games, they’ll want to lock you up. And that’s what we want. But it’s a dance, Coop.”

Ford shakes his hips. “I can’t just call them and say make him an offer now or we’ll walk. We need to go through the steps of the dance.”

My chest tightens, and a rare dose of nerves floods through me. I have every faith in the world that Ford knows what he’s doing, but I also want the security that comes with a done deal.

“So then, keep on dancing,” I say.

“I will. But to do that, there’s no way we can let on that you lied last night.”

I cringe at the word lie. “You say that like I didn’t disclose I took hush money from a foreign government.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Want me to soften lie for you?” He sketches air quotes. “A fast one? A ploy? A white lie? Do those better suit your sensibilities, superstar?”

“Fine, fine. A lie. It was a lie,” I admit grudgingly.

“The point being, you need to keep your dick in your pants, like you’ve done all season because you’re a superstitious motherfucker. And you’ll let me keep dancing with the GM. We don’t need any red flags, any concerns, any issues that make you look like anything but the future of this franchise. That’s what Greenhaven wants you to be, and all personnel decisions are vetted by him.”

I snap my fingers. “Yeah, speaking of Coach . . .”

Ford rolls his eyes. “Don’t make me need to take an extra yoga class.”

I draw a deep breath and tell him what the coach said on the sidelines about a woman being a stabilizing influence on a young man.

Ford cracks up then beckons for me to come closer, as if he’s going to tell me a secret. “Want to know what I call Greenhaven? Mr. Squeaky Clean. That’s how he operates, and that’s what he wants from you. And that’s what you’re going to be now.” He ticks off items on his fingers. “You’ve got a girlfriend from your hometown, you’ve known her your whole life, and you’re so motherfucking happy. This’ll avert the Maxine problem, and it’ll make the man with the Midas touch happy.”

“And what are we supposed to do? Parade down Market Street holding hands? Kiss in the stadium after I throw a game-winning pass?”