It Had to Be You (Chicago Stars #1)(79)

“Me? Aw, no, I couldn’t do that. Football takes up too much time.”

“Maybe you could go during the off-season.” She smiled. “Why don’t you ask Miss Dodd what she thinks of the idea?”

“She’d laugh at me.”

“If she laughs at you, then you’ve got the wrong woman for sure.”

“I wasn’t ever much of a student,” he admitted with obvious reluctance.

“Probably because nobody expected you to be.”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Darnell. You chicken?”

He glowered at her.

“Just kidding,” she said hastily. “The fact that you’re not a natural student could work to your advantage.” She grinned. “You might have to request some private tutoring.”

Darnell laughed, and half a dozen players swung their heads around to stare at him in disbelief.

Elvis Crenshaw stood up. “Hey, Darnell, you gonna hog that dog the whole trip? Pass it over. I like dogs, too.”

Darnell scowled at him. “Why don’t you go f*ck— Er—”

The men hooted as Darnell ducked his head in embarrassment. And then their laughter abruptly snapped off.

Phoebe turned her head to determine what had caused the interruption and saw that Dan had entered the cabin. The men returned to their magazines and music, or closed their eyes and pretended to nap, acting as if they had been caught laughing at a funeral.

Dan’s power over even the most hardened of these veterans amazed her. She knew from snatches of conversations she’d overheard that, even though the men resented the relentless pressure he put on them, they still respected him. Ron said that one of the reasons Dan kept himself in such excellent physical shape was because he never asked the men to do anything he couldn’t do himself.

His eyes had widened slightly at the sight of Pooh sound asleep on his star tackle’s chest. He regarded Phoebe suspiciously, chatted for a few moments with the trainer, then, to everyone’s obvious relief, disappeared back into the first-class cabin.

“That is one cranky man,” Phoebe muttered as she stood.

“Coach has a lot on his mind,” Darnell replied.

Pooh stirred and Darnell reluctantly passed her over to Elvis Crenshaw. Phoebe stopped for a few minutes to ask Webster about Krystal and his children, then Bobby Tom wanted to talk to her about an idea he had for marketing his own line of salsa. She asked Jim Biederot about his shoulder and talked to several of the rookies about Chicago nightlife.

When she finally reclaimed Pooh, the atmosphere in the cabin was considerably more relaxed, but she was certain Dan would reverse that tomorrow. She couldn’t fault him for his dedication, but sometimes she wondered how much he knew about human nature. By the time the last team meeting was over, he’d have them all so tightly strung they’d be vibrating.



She spent the evening and much of the next day with Viktor. He chatted enthusiastically about the game and was pleased that she had invited him to share her skybox. He took Pooh with him when they parted, promising to bring the poodle back with him for the game.

For the first time since she had taken over as owner, she joined the team for their pregame dinner at the hotel at five that evening. Instead of taking the chair next to Ron, she sat with Darnell and Elvis Crenshaw, where she bypassed the plate-sized sirloin that was set before her in favor of her baked potato and salad.

It was a grim, silent meal. Afterward, as the players filed out, she saw that a group of Giant fans had somehow gotten into the hotel lobby and draped it with red and blue signs that left no doubt about where their sentiments lay. Her quick flash of anger made her realize how much the Stars had come to matter to her. Instead of an anonymous sports team, they had become a group of people she cared about.

Lost in thought, she dressed automatically in the outfit Simone had made for her in a rush last week. After repacking her suitcase for the late-night return to O’Hare following the game, she met Ron in the lobby.

He smiled as he took in her clothing. “Perfect.”

She looked doubtfully at her reflection in the mirrored tile on the lobby wall. “I knew this was no time to stage a retreat, but it’s not exactly me.”

She was wearing her own variation of a Stars’ uniform: sky blue satin knickers with a sparkly gold stripe down the outside of each thigh. A pair of blue and gold socks were tucked into soft leather sneakers studded with rhinestones. Since the early October evenings were bound to be a bit chilly, Simone had put together a puffy blue and gold satin bomber jacket with an enormous sparkly star on the back and smaller ones scattered over the front. She wore her hair in curls with a wide ribbon threaded through and tied into a floppy blue bow on top of her head, just right of center.

“It’s exactly you,” Ron said. “The cameramen are going to go crazy.”

They said little more to each other as they drove to the Meadowlands and Giants Stadium. Before it had been reclaimed, the Jersey Meadowlands had been a dumping ground for rusty automobiles and men who ran afoul of the mob. Rumors persisted that the stadium had been built on the bridge of Jimmy Hoffa’s nose.

When they reached the owners’ entrance forty-five minutes before kickoff, Ron volunteered to escort her up to the skybox before he made his regular pregame visit to the locker room, but she had already made up her mind what she needed to do and she shook her head.