Payoff Pitch (Philadelphia Patriots) (10 page)

Rachel threw down the glowing cigarette, stepped on it, then picked the dead butt off the sidewalk and put it in the pocket of her red, half-zip hoodie. Littering clearly wasn’t on the ardent Ms. Stern’s radar—another thing Teddy liked about her, despite her lousy smoking habit.

“Yeah, I thought maybe I’d get hit on for coffee by some smart guy with a future,” Rachel said sarcastically. Then she gave a little snort. “That’s kind of pathetic, huh?” Layered onto a piercing wit, Rachel’s intense demeanor made her anything but a guy magnet despite her rather attractive looks.

“Well, I know I’m the wrong sex, but how about coffee with a dog walker instead?” Teddy said.

She knew she should get back to the house soon so Cristina didn’t have a coronary, but Rachel looked like she could use some coffee and conversation with a friend. Besides, after two days of talking pretty much only to dogs, Teddy could stand a dose of human companionship and Cristina Mercado was sure as hell not filling that bill. Every time Teddy had tried to engage the woman in conversation, she got minimalist responses and looks that made it clear that Cristina considered her to be nothing more than an intruder in her comfortable world. Teddy couldn’t quite get a handle on that attitude since she’d effectively pulled Cristina’s chestnuts out of the fire with her boss. Noah had clearly been less than pleased with his housekeeper’s intransigence.

Then again, Teddy couldn’t quite get a handle on Noah and Cristina’s relationship, either. For an employee, the housekeeper came off like a wolf determined to protect her territory.

Rachel’s shoulders went up around her ears. “You sure? You looked like you were in a rush just now.”

Teddy took a step forward and grasped her by the elbow. “Looks like we could both use a latté, right?”

A minute later, they were in a short line at the TECH Center Starbucks. Rachel grabbed a table while Teddy waited for the barista to finish their lattés.

Paper cups in hand, she joined Rachel who was tapping away at her smartphone as she sat at a table beside the full-length windows. Not many people seemed to be able to go five minutes these days without checking their email or surfing the web. Teddy was one of the few with no desire to have her eyes glued to a mobile device all the time. Maybe it was her farm upbringing that had made her refuse to join in that aspect of the
zeitgeist
. She wanted to focus on the beauty of the physical world surrounding her, not on a little glass screen with colorful icons.

And, yeah, that did make her sound a bit odd, but she didn’t see much point in being an environmentalist if you didn’t actually take time to enjoy the environment.

“Are you going to the LEAP meeting next week?” Rachel asked. The Local Environmental Action Project consisted mostly of students from the various universities in Philly. Teddy and Rachel were members and both also belonged to Temple’s Students for Environmental Action.

Teddy shrugged as she blew on the hot coffee to cool it off. “I’d like to, but I might have to work. Business is picking up and we just landed a major new client a few days ago. In fact, I’m staying at his house for a few days while he’s out of town.”

“You guys specialize in rich people who want their dogs pampered, right?”

Teddy already knew Rachel didn’t think much of the one per cent, but Teddy never thought of Noah in that way. She knew he made a lot of money, of course—most ballplayers made millions a season these days—and he had a fabulous house, but he was far from some Wall Street tycoon. Then again, she had to admit that she still didn’t know much about him or his values. She simply knew he was a nice guy who seemed to enjoy helping people out.

“That’s one way of putting it,” she said. “We promote our company by offering complete pet care services that most people wouldn’t be able to afford—stuff like vet appointments, administering meds, extra-long walks and runs, teeth brushing and nail clipping and some other minor grooming. It’s a niche market and it’s taking a while to latch on, but we’re doing okay.”

“Hey, whatever it takes to get by, right? It probably beats slicing deli meats all day.”

“Only if you don’t mind picking up half a ton of dog poop a year,” Teddy joked.

Rachel’s dark eyes twinkled with amusement as she took a drink, but then she sighed and put the cup back down on the table. “At the rate I’m going, I figure I’ll be able to afford journalism school by the approximate age of forty-five.”

Teddy could tell the girl was wildly exaggerating her financial woes. But like her, Rachel had sworn not to spend her life digging her way out from under a mountain of student debt. Both of them had witnessed friends succumb to the deadly combination of ruinous debt and the inability to find good-paying work after graduation. Working every day while taking part-time studies was a frustrating necessity, but Teddy had a plan and she was determined to stick to it.

She gave Rachel a wry smile. “I’m aiming for law school by thirty-nine, or bust.”

Rachel laughed as she held up her cup in a toast. Teddy reciprocated.

“I’ll bet a lot of law schools are going to love the fact that you started your own business and made a success of it,” Rachel said. “It shows entrepreneurial spirit. Of course, business schools would love it even more. Have you ever considered going for an MBA instead of a law degree?”

“Not for one millisecond. You probably couldn’t track down a social conscience in business school if you had a pack of bloodhounds,” she joked. “No, I’d rather spend my life fighting bad corporations, not working for them.” Not that all corporations were bad, of course, but there were certainly enough to keep activists busy.

Rachel grinned. “You go, sister. I hope I’ll be writing the stories of your groundbreaking court cases where you pin all those criminals to the wall.”

“Why not?” Teddy said with a smile, though she cringed inside a little at Rachel’s strident attitude. “We’ve got to dream big, right?”

“Absolutely. Now, on another note,” Rachel said, “what’s going on with your dad and your brother? Still fighting over leasing their oil and gas rights?”

Rachel had shown keen interest in the position Teddy’s father had taken in opposition to the overtures from Pendulum Oil and Gas to open up his land to gas drilling. “Yes, and it’s only going to get worse now that one of our neighbors has taken the bait. My brother and that guy are friends, and that’s going to make Dalton even more determined to talk my dad into joining the parade.”

Rachel made a little grimace. “That would totally suck. Frigging despoilers like Pendulum and Baron Energy are going to destroy the whole damn country if they get their way. They’ll rack up their huge profits and not give a crap what the land and the water are like when they’ve sucked the wells dry and gone off someplace else they can pillage.”

“Well, those are the two companies most active in our little corner of the county. Pendulum’s going after Dad’s land, while Baron’s amassing a lot of leases in the area, too.”

Teddy hated what gas drilling was doing to the land she grew up on, but she didn’t see the corporations in quite as satanic terms as Rachel. Corporations existed to make profits, and in that sense they were all the same. But Pendulum and Baron were particularly aggressive and had proven much less responsive than some of the larger operators who were at least willing to discuss local concerns and even occasionally try to address them.

“Bastards,” Rachel hissed.

Teddy was about as committed an environmental activist as they come, and she deeply shared Rachel’s concerns. Still, she sometimes found her friend’s fiery rhetoric to be over the top. “Most people don’t see it that way, though, Rach. You’ve seen the ads. They’re telling the American people that shale gas will finally break the country’s dependence on foreign oil. It’s a seductive message because there’s truth in it, and right now the corporations are winning.”

“Yeah, because money talks,” Rachel said bitterly. “Always has, always will.”

Teddy put down her cup and leaned forward. “I don’t agree with people like my brother, but I can understand why they support more drilling. That’s about money, too, and plenty of it. Drilling brings leasing and royalty income for the farmers and tons of new business for everybody from motels and restaurants to equipment dealers and repair shops. Dalton works at a tire center that’s been booming ever since the drillers showed up, and he sees families he’s known all his life raking in cash from their gas leases. Farming and country life can be precarious. It’s understandable that when people see a chance for security, they grab at it.”

“Sure, more money in your pocket is great, but at what cost to the environment and the quality of life?” Rachel said sharply. “That’s the issue they don’t seem to get.”

“Hey, I’m with you—you’re preaching to the converted,” Teddy said, holding her hands up defensively. “I grew up in the Marcellus, and every time I go back, I see with my own eyes what drilling means to our farms and communities. Those guys don’t just come in and drill nice little wells and pump gas into a pipeline nobody notices. No, they build a huge supporting infrastructure with big fluid collection ponds and miles of new roads and new pipelines. Plus, you can’t believe the number of trucks they use. They have to haul unbelievable amounts of water for the fracking operations. Believe me, all that stuff is changing the way of life in our county big time.”

Rachel’s expression pulled fierce and tight. “And what about the impact on the groundwater? What about all the people complaining about their wells being contaminated after drilling starts? I mean, look at those poor folks interviewed in those
Gasland
movies, for God’s sake.”

The oil and gas industry had done its best to counteract the bad press from activists and documentary filmmakers, blaming contamination on other factors. But more and more stories of groundwater issues and surface spills were cropping up all the time. Some states had even instituted moratoriums on drilling. One had banned it altogether until safety issues could be addressed.

It was nowhere near enough, at least as far as Teddy was concerned, but progress
was
being made. “At least some of the companies are starting to release the full composition of chemicals that go into their fracking fluids.”

“About frigging time,” Rachel huffed. “Honest to God, if those bastards started contaminating my water, I don’t think anybody could blame me if I resorted to direct action. Sometimes that’s the only way to get people’s attention.”

Teddy frowned at her friend. She knew Rachel gravitated toward the militant end of the environmental activist spectrum, but her words still shocked Teddy. She was well aware of what the euphemism “direct action” often stood for—sabotage. That wasn’t something she could
ever
support, and she had to make that clear.

“Rachel, the last thing our movement needs is to get tarred as a pack of destructive nut jobs. I hate what’s happening as much as you do, believe me, but we can’t afford for anybody to get carried away. Violence never does any good. Just the opposite.”

Rachel snorted. “God, you sound like a lawyer already. Maybe if you file a brief the companies will fold up their tents and slink off back to Texas or wherever the hell they come from. More power to you if you believe that crap.”

Wow.
Teddy felt like she’d been slapped. “Rach, are you okay? It’s not like you to bite my head off like this.”

Sure, Rachel was intense, but she’d never shown Teddy this caustic side before.

Her friend swallowed what was left of her coffee and set the cup down hard on the table. Tight-jawed, she looked as if she were about to tear another strip off Teddy, but then her face relaxed into a wry smile. “Ah, I’m sorry, Teddy. Hell, I think maybe I just need to get laid.”

Teddy forced a laugh, although she still felt uneasy. “Well, in that case, sweetheart, join the club.”

“You?” Rachel scoffed. “You don’t have any trouble meeting guys. Not with the way you look.” But then her friend shook her head. “Come to think of it, though, we’ve known each other around six months now, and you’ve never once talked about a guy, have you?”

“No, and neither have you. That’s because we’re too busy railing at despoilers of the environment,” Teddy joked as she glanced at her watch. “But I’m afraid I have to run now. The dogs need to be fed and they’re going to harass the housekeeper if I don’t stick a dish under their noses soon.” She got up and slung her backpack over her shoulder.

Rachel stood up and gave her a quick hug. “We should see more of each other, Teddy. And someday I’d love to pay a visit to your dad’s farm and see what’s really going on up there.” She flashed a rueful smile. “Maybe I could even talk some sense into your bone-headed brother.”

It crossed Teddy’s mind that in another life she’d probably introduce Rachel to Dalton to see if there might be any chemistry between them. Her handsome bachelor brother was a bit of a slacker, but he might very well take to Rachel’s sultry looks and passion. And maybe someone as intense and serious as Rachel could light a fire under him.

As she headed out to the parking lot, she let out a soft laugh. Match-making—for herself, much less anyone else—had never been her strong point. Better she stick to dog-walking, since at least with that she knew what she was doing.

Jason Heyward’s bomb that rattled high off Turner Field’s scoreboard might have been the longest home run Noah had ever given up. He’d always made a point of not watching the flight of a ball that he knew was going to make it out of the yard, but this time he couldn’t seem to help himself. He felt like tipping his hat to the young Atlanta slugger as he rounded the bases and scored the run that narrowed the Patriots’ lead to 5-4.

Not that Heyward, or practically any other major league hitter, would have had much trouble teeing off on the sad sack slider Noah had just served up. He figured he should have shaken Nick Rome off when his catcher called for a slider on a two and one count, and a year ago he would have. But manager Jack Ault had drilled it into the heads of all the Patriot pitchers that they ‘d better go along with the savvy Rome’s calls unless they had a hell of a good reason. And if they did shake off the catcher’s sign, they’d damn well better make a good pitch.