LITMIR.BIZ

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should make himself at home in the house.

      “I’ll try and catch a quick couple of days while you’re there, buddy,” Hank had assured him. “But if not, just make yourself at home.”

      He’d also hoped to spend some time with his parents, of course, who were happy in their new adults-only community, except they were away on a trip. Bad timing, but it couldn’t be helped.

      So he’d be alone in the house.

      Joe shifted in his seat, trying to stretch out his left leg. The ache served as a constant reminder the glory days had come to an abrupt end.

      His cell phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. He looked at the readout and swore. Lisa Margolin. No doubt calling for his help with Gina again. God. How had he gotten himself in this pickle anyway? Because his parents raised him to take care of people who couldn’t take care of themselves. That was how. He let the call go to voice mail, not in a mood to deal with it right now.

      He was aware the most recent company Gina worked for had gone out of business a few weeks ago. Employees had received a one-month severance package and Joe knew Gina was coming to the end of hers. She didn’t deal well with uncertainty. Her dysfunctional family had set off her battle with the bottle to begin with and he knew the thread of sobriety was always very shaky.

      Ten minutes later the ringtone chimed again and he knew without looking who it was. She was nothing if not persistent. Setting his jaw, he pressed Accept.

      “What is it this time, Lisa?”

      “You know I wouldn’t call you unless it was important, Joe. Really.” She always began the calls that way.

      Except it was always important. “Yeah, okay. Just tell me what’s up now.”

      “I hope you aren’t mad.”

      She was as good at sounding tearful as Gina always had been.

      “Lisa, I’m kind of busy. What’s the deal?”

      “Well, um…” She paused.

      “Look.” He chuffed with impatience. “Just spit it out. How much?” It was always money. Of course.

      “She’s got a few job interviews coming up and she could use a couple new outfits.”

      Joe squeezed the phone so hard he was amazed he didn’t crush it. “What happened to the money I just sent her?”

      Pause. “She got sick.” Lisa’s voice was very quiet. “I mean, really sick. She needed medicine.”

      He could only imagine. Medicine that came in bottles of cheap booze.

      “She really wants to make a good impression at these interviews,” Lisa added.

      A headache began to burrow its way into his temples.

      “Fine. Give me an hour and I’ll transfer some money into your account.”

      “Can’t you just meet me with a check?” she whined.

      “No. I’m busy. It’s the transfer or nothing.”

      “Whatever.” Her heavy sigh was clear across the connection. “Sorry. I just want this to happen for her.”

      “We’re coming to the end of the road here, Lisa. It’s time Gina took responsibility for her own life.”

      “But you’re all she has,” Lisa protested, a familiar refrain. “You can’t let go of her now. I-I’ll make sure she stays clean. Gets a job. Goes to work.”

      “Do that. I’ll check back with you to see what’s going on.” He disconnected the call in the middle of her thanks, grinding his teeth.

      Gina Rivera. High school bombshell. Wild child who’d captured his virtue. He hadn’t seen her, had even forgotten about her, until his third year in the NFL. She’d shown up at a game, waiting for him at the player’s gate, all masses of blond hair and tight clothes. He’d been high enough on the excitement of the win to succumb to her sexiness and spend the night with her.

      He hadn’t thought much of it, not even when she showed up twice more. Then he’d discovered her secret, answered her one plea for help and after that he was trapped, just because he was basically a good guy. Occasional contact turned into regular contact. And when he’d stopped taking her calls, she’d had Lisa contact him with a sob story that plucked at his conscience.

      How long was he expected to offer aid to a raging alcoholic who didn’t help herself? He should have told Scott Manchin, his agent, about it from the beginning. By now so much time had passed if word got out, the media wouldn’t look at him as doing something kind for a friend. They’d want to know why he’d kept her hidden all this time. Did they have a child together? All that shit. He’d seen it happen to others and hadn’t been smart enough to protect himself. It would be gossip fodder for weeks and kill all the work he’d done to clean up his act. He really had to cut the cord here.

      Okay, enough of that.

      Following the GPS directions, he pulled off the interstate and into an attractive neighborhood of larger homes and mature trees. A little farther on and the GPS directed him to turn left into the long driveway of a two-story colonial. Nice digs, Hank, he thought. But the guy was making big bucks. He deserved a good place to come home to.

      He parked in front of the garage door. Maybe when he got inside he could grab the opener from Hank’s car and use it while he was here. The key was right where Hank had said it would be. He opened the front door, pulled his suitcase inside, and headed toward the room Hank had said was his to use. On the way he passed a room that looked far too feminine to be Hank’s. He wondered briefly whose room it was. Hank hadn’t mentioned anything about sharing the house with someone.

      Too much for him to think about right now. He wanted a shower, and then he’d see about ordering some dinner. Less than five minutes later he was under hot, steaming water, washing away the grime of the day.

      * * * *

      The taxi moved forward with a jerk and Shay’s eyes popped open. She leaned forward and tapped the driver on the shoulder.

      “Did they clear away the wreck? We’re finally moving, right?”

      “Yes, miss.” He shrugged. “But slowly.”

      She rotated her neck, trying to work out some of the kinks. She’d been sitting in uncomfortable seats since she got in the shuttle to the airport and every muscle in her body ached. The hot shower was looking better and better. Or maybe she’d fire up the hot tub Hank had installed on the rear deck.

      Hopefully, with all this delay caused by the wreck, by the time she got to the house Laura would be packed and gone. They pulled off the interstate and she mentally crossed her fingers and silently chanted, Let her be gone. But bad luck was still with her. When they turned onto her street and she spotted the car parked in the driveway, she swore under her breath. Laura Whoever was still here. Well, she’d better be getting ready to leave. Shay was in no mood to put up with bullshit. Sighing, she hauled her suitcase into the house, closed the door, and headed through the living room to her bedroom.

      And stopped.

      A hissing sound came from the shower in the bathroom connected to her bedroom and the guest room. Damn it! The least Hank could do was tell his little friends to use the master bath and leave hers alone. He had, after all, promised her that she’d have complete privacy.

      “I travel a lot,” he’d told her. Then grinned. “And I’ll keep the sleepovers to those times you’re in New York.”

      Yeah, yeah, yeah.

      So how come this female hadn’t gotten the message she was supposed to be gone?

      Crap! The door wasn’t even closed. Clouds of steam billowed in the bathroom and obscured the figure in the frosted-glass shower enclosure. Okay, enough was enough.

      Shay stepped into the bathroom and

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