Power Play (29 page)

“You're going to get arrested.”

“No, I'm not. I'm not soliciting.”

Monica glanced behind her; the fans were watching, goggle-eyed.
This is not happening,
she told herself. She felt herself strengthen as Gloria approached. Gloria would tell Eric in no uncertain terms to take a hike, and it would be over. Thank God.

“Young man.”

Gloria's voice was characteristically imperious.
Here it comes,
thought Monica.

“The fact that you are willing to put yourself out here like this and risk being called a fool is a testament to the love you have for Monica. I admire you tremendously.”

Monica turned to Gloria with a gasp. “Are you insane? Why are you
encouraging
him?”

“For one thing, it's clear he loves you and rues whatever he did that hurt you. For another, he's very creative! No candy or flowers for you, ay?” She nodded approvingly. “The boy's got guts. And heart. Reminds me of Orson.”

“Thank you,” said Eric, lifting his eyebrows at Monica as if to say, “What do you think of
that
?”

Monica pointed to the studio door. “Go,” she said to Gloria. “You're not helping the situation.”

“Banishment.” Gloria sighed. “You're very cruel.”

“Go,”
Monica repeated with a glare.

“Good luck,” Gloria said to Eric, pausing to sign autographs for fans before she slipped back inside the studio.

“You realize this isn't going to do anything,” Monica said to Eric, who had resumed pacing.
“Stop pacing.”

“Tell me you're not flattered,” Eric challenged, halting beside her as she asked.

Monica looked at the ground. The truth was, she was flattered. It seemed that real Eric was wooing her; fake Eric would never do anything so dweeby. His efforts seemed heartfelt. Even so, she couldn't forget how quickly fake Eric had reared his ugly head the minute he was experiencing peer pressure with his teammates. How did she know that wouldn't happen again? How could she be sure he wouldn't be two-faced: real Eric when he was with her, and fake Eric when he was with them, claiming the relationship was nothing more than a status thing?

She was about to challenge him with that when a news van from Channel 22 rounded the corner.

Monica felt her guts sink. “You called the media, didn't you?”

“I want all of New York to know how I feel.”

Monica shook her head. “You're unbelievable. You know that?”

“Yup. That's why you love me.”

Monica turned away from him with a frustrated growl. It was only a matter of time before Theresa called her and asked her to make a statement she could send out to the media. Theresa probably thought Eric debasing himself this way was great.

The news van pulled up.

“Leave me alone, okay?” Monica said to Eric as she hurried inside.

“Not on your life. Make sure you watch the news from now on,” he called after her. “And the home games. I have a few more tricks up my sleeve.”

With that, Eric resumed his happy pacing in front of the studio.

 

“Do you believe this?”

Monica's question was addressed to Gloria, who was spending the night at Monica's after a leak in her upstairs neighbor's apartment had caused the ceiling above Gloria's bed to cave in. They were watching the late news when Monica heard her name mentioned while channel surfing, and she stopped. “Blades fans made no secret of their feelings about Eric Mitchell's recent breakup with soap actress Monica Geary at tonight's game against Philly,” said the greasy-haired, mulleted hockey correspondent from ESPN. The news then cut to footage of that night's game at Met Gar, where fans were chanting, “Mon-ica! Mon-ica! Take Eric back!” over and over. Monica's mouth fell open.

Gloria was grinning. “This is fantastic!”

“You're as deluded as he is.”

Monica turned off the TV. She couldn't believe Eric was doing this. What was next? Presenting her with a petition from the fans?

Gloria sighed, stretching out her long, bony legs from beneath her red silk robe and flexing her veiny feet. “You must have a heart of stone. I don't see how you can fail to be charmed.”

“I don't have a heart of stone,” Monica said quietly. The truth was, she
was
charmed. She was also frightened of being burned again. The fans knew she was the team's good luck charm; that was probably the reason they wanted her back. Hell, that was probably the real reason
he
wanted her back. Jerk.

“Monica, darling, I'm talking to you.”

“I know, Glo. I'm sorry. The Eric thing . . . it's complicated.”

“Explain.”

“My whole relationship with him was fake at the beginning. We both wanted to up our profile.”

Gloria seemed unfazed. “Big deal. Why do you think I went out with Jack Palance in the mid-sixties? We both needed a career boost. People do that all the time.”

“Yes, but then it turned real, at least for me. He said it was real for him, too.” Monica tucked her legs in tighter. “But he was lying.” She told Gloria what she'd overheard Eric telling his friends at the charity ball. Gloria clucked her tongue.

“So he was trying to save face with his goon friends. Clearly, it was real for him. Why else would be walking up and down in front on the studio baring his soul to the world?”

Monica rubbed the crick beginning in her neck. “I know, I know.” She looked into her friend's eyes. “Would you take him back?”

“Yes. To love is to risk the pain of loss. But it's a risk that's worth taking. God knows I've taken it more times than I care to recount.”

“Then why don't you risk becoming friends with Monty again?”

Gloria laughed softly.

“I saw him last week,” Monica continued. “He told me one of the greatest regrets in his life was not standing up for you.”

Gloria looked to the blank TV screen. “We haven't spoken in years, Monica. I suspect we'd have very little to say to each other.”

“I think you're wrong. I think you'd have a lot to say to each other. You always ask about him, and he always asks about you. How can you encourage me to forgive when you won't?”

Gloria was silent.

“Life is too short,” Monica continued.

“One could say the same to you, though in my case, it's too true. I'll probably be dead in ten years.”

“Don't say that!”

“Well, it's true,” Gloria said without the slightest hint of upset. “And that would be fine. I've led a wonderful life. And when you've reached the end, I want you to be able to say the same thing.”

Monica slowly unfurled her legs as she stared down into her lap. “I have so far. But I don't think I'm ready to forgive Eric, not yet.”

“That's your choice, my dear. But I'd think about it long and hard if I were you. I let too many good men slip through my fingers over the years, and now look at me: alone in my dotage. I don't want that to happen to you. Now put the damn TV back on so I can channel surf for my old beaus.”

TWENTY-THREE

“Well?” Delilah asked quietly. “Have you thought about the offer?”

Eric was sitting with Jason, Delilah, and his parents in his folks' dining room.

Jason had suggested it might be better if Delilah opened up the discussion with their parents, and Eric agreed. Their folks adored her; plus, it might soften what would no doubt be an emotional discussion. Dinner was over, and they'd all run out of small talk. Delilah had used the gap to break the ice.

Dick and Jane exchanged telling glances, their faces etched with discomfort, their eyes asking each other,
Which of us will speak? Which of us will tell them?
In the end, it was Jane who answered, which didn't surprise Eric in the least. His mom's family had built this farm; Jane's attachment to it was greater than anyone's.

“We're going to sell to you boys. That way, the house and the land will at least stay in the family, even though it will no longer be a working farm.”

Eric tried to read his father's face: stoic as ever.

“You're sure about this?” Jason double-checked.

“Very sure,” Jane said calmly. Then she burst into tears.

Eric, sitting next to her, dragged his chair so it was right beside hers and put his arms around her. “It's okay, Mom. We know how tough this must be for you. But like you said, at least it will stay in the family.”

“Yes,” Jane said softly, sounding like she was trying to convince herself more than anyone else. “Yes, that's the most important thing.”

Eric looked across the table at his father. “You okay?”

Dick nodded, his face still impassive.

Calmer now, Jane broke her embrace from Eric. “Dick, tell them the rest.”

“We'll auction off the livestock,” Dick explained. “But we won't let you pay more than market price for the house.”

“Wait a minute,” Jason protested. “Auctioning off the livestock is fine. But the real estate market is in the toilet. We'll decide what to pay for the house and the land, not you.”

“We don't need charity,” Dick snapped.

“It's not charity,” Eric replied firmly but with obvious affection, trying to soothe everyone's rapidly fraying nerves. “It's gratitude for giving us a great life here growing up. You've worked yourselves to the bone all your lives. Now it's your turn to relax and have some fun. Buy that RV you've always dreamed of and travel around the country.”

“Eric's right, Dad,” Delilah added.

Jane looked hopefully at Dick. “The boys
are
right.”

Dick drained his coffee cup, slamming it back down on the saucer. “I don't want to live in a damn trailer on wheels.”

“We're not going to live in it, Dick,” their mother said with mild exasperation. “We're going to travel in it. We can buy a smaller house close to here so we can see the boys in the summer.”

“That sounds wonderful,” said Delilah.

“We've already been over this,” Jane reminded her husband. “Why are you getting so ornery all of a sudden?”

“Who the hell wants to retire?” asked Dick. “Not me.”

“Tell me what the hell else we can do, mister,” Jane challenged. “We can't afford to keep the farm.”

“I know that,” he said in a resigned tone. “But I can't stand the thought of being useless. Can you at least understand that, Jane?”

“You can find something else to do,” Jane insisted.

“What? Work as a greeter in Wal-Mart?”

Eric and Jason glanced at each other covertly. Eric was pretty sure neither of them had ever heard their parents argue. Sure, they'd heard the occasional angry whispers down in the kitchen when they were kids and were supposed to be asleep, but that was it. It felt weird and uncomfortable.

“I can't believe you're bringing this up now,” Jane said, glaring at her husband. “I thought we were in agreement about selling to the boys.”

Dick pushed back from the table and walked out of the kitchen into the yard.

“I think he needs more time to process this,” Jason offered tentatively.

“No, he doesn't,” said Jane. “He's just a stubborn old fool who refuses to see reality.”

“It's a pride issue, Mom,” said Eric. “He feels like he's failed somehow.”

“Look, there's no rush on this,” said Jason. “We can do it whenever you guys are ready.”

“We're ready,” Jane insisted. “I just need to give your father a swift kick in the pants.”

Eric and Jason both smiled nostalgically. “A swift kick in the pants” was one of her favorite expressions, especially when it came to their father. Eric had no doubt his mother would set his father straight. Sweet and loving as their mother was, she'd always been the stronger one, the one who ruled the roost.

“Excuse me,” said Jane, following their father outside. Eric knew they'd have their chat in the barn so “the kids” couldn't hear.

Jason regarded Eric uneasily. “What do you think?”

“They'll go along with it,” Eric assured him. “I think Dad's just freaking out a bit about making a major change. They've lived and worked here all their lives.”

“You're right.”

Eric began clearing the table, and Delilah moved to help him. “Anything new with Monica?” she asked.

“No.”

He had no idea if Monica had seen the footage of the fans chanting her name. Maybe he should have Lou's office make a DVD and send it to her?

“I'd keep trying,” said Delilah, ever the optimist.

“Yeah? And at what point do I stop because it's become pathetic?”

“You have to go with your gut on that one.”

Eric was glad he was standing behind Delilah so she couldn't see him roll his eyes. He hated going with his gut. His gut was an empty, clueless black hole. All he knew was he loved Monica, and he wanted her back, but so far it wasn't working. Still, he'd keep trying. And it wasn't his gut telling him that, either.

It was his heart.

TWENTY-FOUR

Was it possible to love and hate at the same time? Monica wondered as she hung up the phone following a conversation with Theresa, who'd been fielding calls left and right from the media, wanting to know if Monica was willing to talk about Eric's tactics to win her back. Monica's unequivocal answer? No. She loved the continued media coverage, but she hated the way it was embarrassing her. Yes, Eric was creative, but encountering Blades fans in the streets that chanted, “Take! Eric! Back!” at her was beginning to pluck on her already frayed nerves.