The Sweet Spot

CHAPTER 13

FOUR DAYS LATER, Chase was lacing up his cleats at Kauffman Stadium, getting ready to warm up for playing the Royals. Another city, another road trip, and another three days of wishing he were home. He tried to look on the bright side. His bride had stayed behind, touring venues for their wedding, something that didn’t interest him. He looked up from the bench he was sitting on inside the visitors’ locker room as soon as he heard his name called.

“Walker! Coach needs to see you,” the assistant coach called out from the doorway of the visiting team’s management office. Chase finished what he was doing and hustled over to answer.

“You were looking for me, Coach?” Chase stuck his head in the open doorway.

Leo Bennett sat behind the desk, leaning back in his chair. He waved his hand, beckoning his star player full entry. “Come in, Chase. Shut the door and have a seat.”

Chase immediately did as he was told, alert to the level of intensity that showed on the faces of Leo and the already seated assistant and batting coaches. He sat down.

The four men sat in awkward silence for several long moments.

“Am I getting benched?” Chase finally asked jokingly after looking from one unreadable face to the other.

The three remaining men exchanged knowing looks and what Chase could’ve sworn were sly smiles that were being held back. Leo cleared his throat and leaned both his elbows on the desk. He steepled his fingers over his mouth to hide the grin and tried to decide how best to tell the man he thought of as a son what he needed to tell him without laughing. He took a deep breath, getting ready to tackle the topic at hand.

“I just hung up with the front office. There’s a situation back in New York.”

AMANDA WAS IN HER BEDROOM, finishing getting dressed for work, when the phone rang.

“If you don’t get out of town, you’ll ruin him,” threatened the voice on the other end by way of a greeting. Amanda didn’t need the caller to identify himself; the familiar skin-crawling, bile-buildup reaction was completely indicative of every conversation she had ever had with him.

“Who is this?” she asked anyway, just to antagonize him.

“It’s Alan Shaw, the agent of the next disgraced athlete. Way to go.” He spoke with such reproach, it instantly made her defensive.

“Alan, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about, and how did you get this number?”

Another one of his slimy snorts echoed through the receiver. “Are you kidding, sweetheart? I know everything there is to know about you. While you were busy wrapping him around your finger, you forgot that he’s one of those people who is constantly drawing attention. Now I’m left to do what you didn’t, and that’s try to protect him.”

During the few times she was forced to endure him since meeting Chase, Shaw was always sanctimonious, always trying to leave her with the impression that there was some sort of inner circle that she would never know about. He had made it clear early on that he thought of her as a dalliance, and his view hadn’t changed, but he was careful to conceal his opinion when forced into their company, which to Chase’s credit wasn’t very often. But now he had entered into her personal space, adding hostile, and Amanda was already tired of being bullied by him. She cradled the phone against her ear with her shoulder and finished putting on her pumps. “Stop speaking to me in riddles and get to the point.”

“Get to the point?” Shaw shouted loud enough to make her eardrum vibrate. “I’ll get to the point! At five P.M. my client and your fine ass are going to be the lead story on all the major networks. CNN and Fox may even beat them to it! You and your perverted little escapades are about to take down one of this country’s most loved role models, how’s that for getting to the point?”

Amanda could feel the hair on the back of her neck begin to stand on end as his venom flowed through the phone.

“What do you mean?” she rasped, all blood draining from her face, confrontational pretext gone. She closed her eyes and held her breath, praying he would say anything other than what she knew by his cryptic opening he was about to confirm.

“You know exactly what I mean.” He brought his tone back down and it was now more of a hiss. “Does the tunnel under Kings Stadium ring a bell?”

The thought of Alan Shaw bearing witness to something so private was as repugnant as if he had been peeping through their window when they made love. As soon as she heard him say it, the bile in her throat became real.

“Yeah,” he mocked her silence. “I thought it might. You can probably catch it on YouTube right now if you need a reminder.”

She didn’t need to be reminded. Her knees buckled, the bed breaking her fall. YouTube. She glanced over to her laptop on the nightstand and unsuccessfully willed it to blow up. Sweat began to bead on her upper lip and terror gripped her. “Does Chase know?” Amanda asked quietly, trying to keep her voice from shaking as badly as her hands.

She heard Alan take a deep breath, although it was far from settling. “I don’t think so. Thank God he’s on the field in Kansas City, and I can get a few hours head start. He still has a job to do, whether you know it or not.”

“I’m going to call him—” Amanda began.

“No you’re not,” he cut her off abruptly. “I just told you, he’s on the field. He can’t answer. You’re going to shut up, stop wasting time, and do exactly what I tell you.”

“I’m not doing anything till I speak to him. He’ll know what to do,” she said aloud, mostly to calm herself.

“Know what to do?” Alan’s voice started rising again. “He hasn’t done anything right since he got mixed up with you. Making a damn fool of himself, following you around like some lost puppy. I don’t know what kind of spell you’ve put on him, but don’t you think you’ve fucked him up enough?”

The tears were in her eyes in a blink. No matter how much she despised Alan Shaw, there was truth to his words, and he was using them to his full advantage, throwing them in her face.

“How did you find out about this?’ Amanda tried to sound focused and rational and not like she was about to start bawling.

“It’s my job to stay one step ahead, something you obviously didn’t think of,” he scoffed, refusing to divulge his sources and opting instead to continue the verbal beat-down. “You would think with a family on the political fringe, you would be better at it.”

Her careless actions would now also cost her parents. Amanda laid her head in her shaky hand to try to steady them both.

“It’s not that bad.” But her words didn’t even convince herself.

“Oh yeah? How do you think Nike is going to feel when ‘Just do it’ becomes the catchphrase of wife beaters worldwide?”

“It’s not even like that,” she replied, filled with humiliation, a compilation of every kind imaginable.

“And I’m pretty sure it’s not what AmEx has in mind when they boast about membership having its privileges,” he spat out sarcastically.

“Alan, enough,” she snapped, pushing against the wave of dread that was swelling with every biting word he spoke. At least having him to fight against brought out the last of her chutzpah and made her feel tougher. “You’re not helping by berating me.”

There was silence on the other end as Alan regrouped and tried a different tactic.

“And you’re not going to help him by being here when this story breaks,” he told her, still unsympathetic but marginally civil.

“But we’re a team,” she weakly parroted the line Chase faithfully told her, while glancing at the ring on her finger and feeling the dread wave cresting over her head.

“No, the Kings are a team, a team that’s invested the next five years in him at great expense. And they’re going to want to know exactly when their golden boy became a domestic abuse offender. You really want to be the one to explain it to them?”

Amanda shook her head to both clear it and answer the man she detested without having to confirm it with words. Words would’ve revealed that she was on the verge of a total meltdown.

He took her silence as the affirmation he needed. His voice became calculated and conspiratorial. “Here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to go on a little vacation, two weeks, maybe three. By then this thing will have run its course. You may want to lay off the television; speculation about your character will be flying fast and furiously. Stay off the phone and Internet, too. The fewer people who talk to you, the better.”

For a moment, Alan sounded rational and like he really wanted to help, but she should’ve known better than to believe he had any of her interests at heart. If she wasn’t so stupefied and worried about vomiting, she would have noticed just how premeditated his plan was.

“And you’re to have no contact with Chase whatsoever.” He said it as if he took perverse pleasure in knowing it crushed her.

“But why?”

“Because he’s going to be pissed as hell, that’s why.” Alan’s voice began to rise again, in response to her having the nerve to question him. “And he already can’t think straight when it comes to you, as his lapse in good sense has already proven. He needs to focus on controlling the damage here.”

Something in the logic didn’t make sense, but Amanda’s mind was racing with too many scenarios to break it down. And she was ashamed to admit it, but he was offering her a way out. He was not only giving her permission to run away, he was recommending it.

“You ready to stand next to him in front of fifty cameras and microphones and listen to him explain away your sex life?”

The thought alone was enough to make her gag. She flashed to a few particularly hateful comments she saw on social media since their engagement was announced. Faceless trolls who labeled her everything from fat and unworthy of their hero to a gold-digging slut. It was nearly as repugnant as the comments from men who freely speculated on exactly what Chase saw in her.

Shaw went in for the kill. “Or maybe withstand a sneak attack of paparazzi? Not only are they not known for their couth, but you know he’s going to defend your honor. He can add an assault charge to the list of bullshit.”

The dread wave crashed down upon her.

“He’ll find me,” she gasped on the last gulp of air before she started to drown in panic and degradation and sadness.

“He won’t have time to look,” Alan quickly replied, trying to downplay the victory and get her in motion. “I’ll text you when the coast is clear.”

“He’s going to be furious,” Amanda whispered brokenly.

Alan Shaw finally laughed. It was as cold and harsh as he was. “When this is all over, he can give you a good spanking.” And then he was gone.

Oh my God, she thought, he actually said it. She swallowed another round of shame and revulsion. When Chase said it, it was passionate and erotic and tantalizing. To hear it coming from Alan Shaw, it was tainted and depraved and warped.

In Amanda’s mind, it was already all over, her fairy tale, the love of her Prince Charming, and even her previous life as she knew it, back before she met him. If it was only going to be half as bad as he made it sound, it was going to be unbearable. She stared at the phone in her hand as it went from silence to dial tone and ultimately the high-pitched scream designed to alert that it wasn’t hung up. She pushed the Off button and threw the phone on the bed as if it were covered in poison.

You’ll ruin him.

She hugged herself and began to rock slowly, her eyes darting wildly around the room. She spied the television and her stomach cramped. It was no longer just about ruining it for herself.

She wanted to go on automatic pilot and finish getting ready for work, but her legs refused to lift her. How was she supposed to go about the mundane business of applying mascara when she couldn’t even bear to look at herself in the mirror? How in heaven’s name was she going to walk into the Cold Creek and face her customers, or worse yet, her employees?

And worst of all, she knew there was no way for Chase to protect her. He was states away and maybe it wasn’t far enough. She had tempted and teased him knowing full well he couldn’t resist her. The result was that she had single-handedly revealed America’s Golden Boy as some sort of sadist. The one thing he specifically said he wanted to keep to himself. What had started as a romantic interlude was now a travesty. She would call his reputation into question all because she was too immature to control her jaded tastes in public.

Her phones began to ring. And ring, independently and then simultaneously. She remained on the bed, unable to rise, unable to move, just staring at the dark screen of the turned-off television. Her imagination ran amok with what would be happening if she were foolish enough to turn it on. Minutes turned to hours and day to night before she pulled herself off the bed. Halfheartedly hoping her manager showed up to work, but not really caring if the place burned down, she picked up the phone. The tone that indicated she had messages sounded. It wasn’t until she dialed her code and heard that she had sixteen messages that she hung it up, unable to cope with any of it. Her cell phone was beeping like crazy, and she weakly lifted it off the table and returned to the bedroom, lying down and curling into a fetal position. She saw that Chase had called ten times. There were multiple text messages. With shaking fingers, she dialed into her voice mail.

“Honey, call me when you get this message.” The inevitable change was already taking place. He sounded apprehensive. And he always called her “angel” or “baby.” Calling her “honey” sounded grown-up and forced. It only proved Shaw’s point that Chase was operating from outside his element.

Followed by: “Amanda, where are you? I really need to speak to you. The Cold Creek says you haven’t shown up. For God’s sake, call me.”

Next was: “It’s me. I sent someone by your place; they say they got no answer. You’re starting to frighten me. Please, if you won’t call me, call someone. Let them know you’re all right.”

Then there was a message from her mother, her attorney, the Cold Creek twice, Nicki and her father, all asking her to call them right away, but saying nothing more. They were all embarrassed for her, refusing to even touch on the real reason they were calling. Tears streamed down her face. How could she ever face any of these people again?

And finally: “Listen, honey, I know you’re freaking out, I just know it. This is going to blow over, trust me on this. I know it seems awful right now. I’m mad as hell, too, but this is nothing more than the product of a slow news day, you’ll see. I love you, Amanda, we’ll get through this. Together.”

If there were any other messages, she didn’t bother listening to them. Her tears had turned to choking sobs and she hugged herself until she fell asleep, praying for two things: that Chase was right and an ax-wielding psychopath would go on a rampage to grab the headlines.

But it wasn’t forgotten. It only got worse. When Amanda struggled to open her eyes the next day, still swollen from crying, she lay there for a few seconds, confused, until the memory came rushing back. Still in her clothes from the day before and her mouth dry, she dragged herself up and padded to the kitchen to get a drink of water. She felt detached, scattered, and desperate for the normalcy of the day before. Before she picked up the phone and once again Alan Shaw made her life turmoil. Too afraid to turn on the television, she opened the front door, mostly out of habit, and retrieved the daily newspapers she received for the nights when Chase slept over and to check for ads that she ran, keep up with her stock holdings, and any pictures of him. What greeted her was the front page of the New York Post. In bold letters, complete with still photo, was the headline:

WALKER HAS LAST WORD . . . ALWAYS

If she hadn’t been so mortified about her backside looking like the cover shot of some tawdry porno, she would’ve patted herself on the back. Her current workout program with Logan had really paid off. And the jeans were a good choice, after all. A dress hiking up would’ve been the only way it could’ve been worse.

And not to be outdone, the Daily News, while not having a front-page photo, had the headline:

WHY COLD CREEK SHOULD CHANGE ITS NAME TO HOT CHEEK

As new tremors began to rack through her body, Amanda reached for the phone. Before the new tears completely blurred her vision, she did the only thing she could think of.

She dialed her father.

When Rupert Cole walked into his daughter’s small eat-in kitchen, he did a double take. Amanda was barely recognizable. Her eyes puffy and her face pale, she sat at the table, the newspapers spread out in front of her, all opened to either stories or pictures or both. Even the New York Times had a blurb about it in the sports section. He was almost afraid to touch her. She looked so fragile. He opted for scooping up the papers and making his way to the trash. He waited for Amanda to turn red eyes to him before dumping them in the garbage.

“It is these people’s jobs to sell papers. Celebrity sex scandals do that job nicely.” He dropped the papers in. Going to the fridge, he poured two glasses of orange juice and came back to the table, setting one down in front of her and taking a seat. He waited patiently for her to take a small sip before quietly saying.

“A lot of people lost sleep last night because of you. Thanks for texting your mother that you were just ignoring everyone.” Catherine Cole was the only person who sent a message that Amanda answered. It was perfunctory, asking only if she was in physical danger, and she didn’t text again after Amanda’s two-word response: rotten night. Amanda wouldn’t lie to keep up appearances for Catherine, who would be the first to agree. Her daughter had found herself in a rather unpleasant situation. She would rationally tell anyone who inquired that her daughter wasn’t taking calls, and give them all the space needed to digest the information. Alerting the police would only garner more unwanted attention. Amanda sent the text right before falling into a sleep that was like a body shutting down, unable to process one thing more.

“I’m sorry. I should’ve sent it earlier.”

“Amanda, does he abuse you?”

“No, Dad,” she denied quickly. “It’s nothing like that. We were just fooling around.” Here it comes, the next in her series of awkward conversations. How do you talk about sex with a father who still maintained babies were brought by storks? Not that it mattered one way or the other. Her secret was out.

Rupert believed his daughter and didn’t want to make it any harder on her. “Look, pumpkin, I know that you never bargained for anything like this when you and Chase got serious, but I really think that you might be making more out of this than there really is.” Rupert finished the contents of his glass and leaned back in his chair. “For Christ sake, they spend all day slapping each other’s asses, so this is really no surprise to me or anyone else.”

Amanda let out a laugh in spite of herself. It was a moment of normalcy. Then her chin began to tremble, and she looked at her father with the saddest eyes he had ever seen.

“I probably ruined your chance for a career in politics,” she murmured, tears brimming in her eyes again.

“I was only considering that anyway.” Rupert chuckled reassuringly. “But now I’m probably going to get real pressure to be on the ticket. People are so funny about the bandwagons they jump on. And I think I need to remind you, you weren’t alone in this.”

“What am I going to do here?”

“Well, if it were me, I would have been at the restaurant last night buying rounds for the house every time they aired it.” When he got another little smile, he went on soberly, “But I can’t tell you what to do here, kiddo. What I can tell you is that I support whatever you decide to do. Do nothing, spank him back, write a book, kill him, it makes no difference to me. But I do know one thing, the longer you let this eat at you, the longer it will stay an issue in your life. What’s done is done. There is only so long you can keep your head in the sand.”

“I know, Dad, I know.” He was right and she knew it, but it was little comfort this morning.

“You don’t live in Nebraska. You’re not getting ready to marry a dairy farmer. You live near New York City and your fiancé is a famous pro athlete. These things come with the territory.” He went on, wanting to see her reaction. “You know, he called the house last night, frantic. Your mother spoke to him, but I’m not sure it helped. You really should have called him.”

“I can’t face him, I just can’t.” She exhaled pure misery, crossed her arms on the table, and laid her head on them. She held back from telling her father about the conversation with Alan Shaw, mostly out of disgrace. When all was said and done, this was her fault, and it was breaking her heart in two. “I don’t think I can face anybody right now.”

While he was hoping Amanda would do the right thing, dig her heels in, he knew it was a lot to ask. Her fighting spirit was on hiatus, somewhere gathering strength. Rupert already knew more than he wanted to about his future son-in-law, and his main concern was the happiness and well-being of his only child. He waited only a moment.

“Senator Warren just remodeled his summer home in North Carolina and was hinting around about looking for a fall or winter rental. He hates that the place is empty. Maybe it would do you some good to take a break from all of this, go someplace quiet and get your head together.”

Amanda picked her head up. “What about the Cold Creek?”

“Don’t worry about the restaurant, pumpkin. When you hired Liam, you made a good call. I’ll do what I can to help things along.” He stood, walking to the door. “You go pack. I’m going to make a few calls. You can be there by nightfall.”

She stood and practically ran to her room. “Thanks, Dad, I love you.”

“I love you, too. But, Amanda.” She stopped short and turned to meet her father’s compassionate yet firm gaze. “Remember what I said. The longer you hide, the longer it takes.”

CHASE GOT OUT OF HIS car, shut the door, and took a deep breath. Squaring his shoulders, he strode purposefully right to the Cold Creek’s front door. The restaurant would not be open for several hours, but most of the staff would already be there, getting the place prepped. He had been calling Amanda every hour for days, unable to stop himself from dialing. As soon as he returned home, he started going by her darkened condo all hours of the day and night, with no sign of her. The presses hounding him had finally begun to die down, and he was beginning to feel like enough was enough. He was leaving for an eight-day road trip and determined to see her before he left. Someone in there knew where Amanda was, and he wasn’t leaving until he found out who.

What he found was Rupert Cole. He was sitting at the bar, going through the mail, when he looked up and saw Chase standing in the doorway. He waited for his approach before giving him a gruff nod. He knew it was only a matter of time before the boy came here looking for her.

“Chase,” Rupert said curtly.

They sized each other up. Rupert was smooth, polished, always prudent, never raised his voice. Chase wondered just what the man knew, what Amanda had told him, and how he felt about it.

“I need to find Amanda.”

Rupert’s expression remained impassive as he studied his would-be future son-in-law. “I have to give you credit. For someone who’s caused so much havoc for my daughter, you certainly aren’t afraid to step up to the plate.”

“I love her beyond reason. I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am about this,” Chase told him, shaking his head before looking uncomfortably away and down at his shoes, shuffling his feet. It was a gesture so genuinely humble and full of remorse, Rupert had to take a second to remember that who he was dealing with was not only a grown man, but an influential one.

“Let me just start out by saying, if I thought for one minute you hurt my daughter, there is no one on this planet who would be able to save you. But Amanda assures me that’s not the case, and I believe her. That having been said, I’d still like to know how the hell this mess happened.”

“Some scumbag from the stadium’s security department caught it on a hidden camera, looped it, and peddled it to some gossip rag. He’s been fired, the Kings are pressing charges, as am I, but I’m afraid the damage has been done.”

Rupert got up, went behind the bar, and poured himself a scotch, offering one to Chase, which he politely refused. “Ah yes, the damage. You know, Chase, when it became apparent that you and Amanda were becoming serious, the hardest thing for her to cope with was the constant attention. While I’m sure you have been used to it for quite a while, it was all new to her. Her privacy was something she didn’t want to give up. But she always maintained that you were worth it, and the more we got to know you, the more inclined we were to agree.” His eyes took on a wistful look, as if he were recalling a time long ago, and he went on. “You know, in all of her life, there was only one time I spanked Amanda. Funny, I can’t even remember what it was for. But I will never forget the look on her face when it was over, those big sad eyes so bewildered. I could tell that she wasn’t able to reconcile the love with the pain. I knew I would never be able to spank her again. But she was a good girl, and lucky for us both, she spared me ever having to agonize over that choice again.” He came back to the present and the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly. “Her mother, however, is an entirely different matter. There has been more than one occasion when I thought a good old-fashioned spanking would have benefited her immensely.” He gave Chase a little wink, and the tension eased between them.

“I have seen the footage,” Rupert concluded diplomatically. “And it didn’t look like she was having too much trouble with reconciliation.”

“You know where she is, Rupert. Please tell me.”

The man took on a look of true compassion, laid both his hands on the bar, and waged the battle of the decision.

“Look, Chase. I like you. You’re a good kid. Do I think Amanda is making too much of this? Yes, I do. Do I think the longer she stays away, the bigger she makes the problem? You bet. But only she can decide how and when she can make peace with this. She was always so concerned about doing the right thing, making a good impression. I love her with all my heart, and her happiness is my only concern. I can tell you that she’s been in touch and that she’s safe, but I’m sorry, son, I can’t tell you where she is.”

Chase’s shoulders slumped, dejected. He understood Rupert’s hidden message. He knew exactly where his daughter was. The last road to Amanda had effectively been blocked. He stood up and made his way out the door. He still had a game to play. The one constant, where he still felt in control and at the same time could take a break from the calamity his life had become. He needed to leave it all behind and get back on the field. Before he got to the door, he heard Rupert’s voice, in a tone that reminded him of his own father.

“Hang in there, Chase, she’s worth it, too.”

He went back to his car, pounded the steering wheel until the horn went off, and let out a broken sigh.