have to use it.'
'Not use it? It's a godsend. Gallagher wants primary custody, and he's become a bookmaker! A disbarred lawyer turned bookie! Hell, the judge will laugh him out of court.'
'Bobby's willing ton continue joint custody. He just doesn't want me to send Scott away to boarding school, that's all. Bobby's afraid they'll lose the bond they've formed.'
'Good!' Kingsley banged a fist on his desk. 'Scott doesn't need to bond with a common crook.'
'Daddy, Bobby loves Scott very much and Scott adores him.'
Ah, his sweet daughter was smart and beautiful but with little street smarts. He had shielded her from so much. Christine didn't know what it took to climb so high. Corners must be cut, deals made, hands dirtied. To win, you can't play by any rules except your own.
'Maybe there's a way we can work this out with Bobby so we don't have to go to court,' she said. 'I've even had second thoughts about the boarding school myself.'
'Nonsense! Scott's a genius. All the tests show it, but his genius is untapped. If he hangs out at race tracks and bookie parlors, he'll be stifled, frustrated. He could end up a weirdo, living alone, collecting bottle caps and railroad schedules.'
'You're being overly dramatic.' She glanced toward a framed photo of the three of them-son, mother, and grandfather-standing under the goal posts at the old Texas Stadium. The photo was five years old, and Bobby had been cropped out of the shot, just as he'd been deleted from her life. A hole in the photo, a hole in her heart. 'I just don't want to hurt Bobby any more than I already have.'
'Hell, you've been too kind to him.' He didn't like the wistful look in her eyes. 'Has he been trying to contact you?'
'The usual. Flowers, cards, candy, even a crate of Florida stone crabs.'
Kingsley harrumphed his displeasure, but he'd already known it. At the end of each day, he reviewed the security desk logs, scanning the names of every visitor to the Valley Ranch complex and reviewing the receipts of all deliveries. When it came to running a tight ship, Captain Queeg could take lessons.
'Daddy, don't worry. I won't make the same mistake twice.'
'I know you won't, honey.'
He was pleased that Christine was dating Craig Stringer. Hell, he'd set it up. This time, he vowed, Christine wouldn't let her heart rule her head. He'd help her lasso Stringer and bring him into the barn.
Stringer was a fine choice as a husband and future V.P. of operations of the team. He was a war horse of a quarterback, playing his last season, just ambitious enough to want to please his boss without wanting to kick him off the throne. The amiable fiction would be that Kingsley had turned over operations to his new son-in-law, the handsome, well-liked former All Pro quarterback. But Kingsley would still call the shots, and Stringer would be a well-paid martinet who would enjoy better relations with the Commissioner's office than his boss ever had.
How can I get Daddy out of debt and out of my personal life?
Both questions plagued Christine. Despite his bluster and bombast, despite trying to convince the world that he owned half of all creation, her father's finances were a disaster. Here she was sitting in his office, trying to get him to tighten his belt, and there he was spouting off about 'living large.'
Then there was her personal life. She just wanted peace. No private investigators, lawyers, or judges. She yearned for an end to the hostilities with Bobby and an end to their fight over custody and schooling of Scott. She knew her father was up to something in the lawsuit, but she didn't know what. He kept so many things from her. Still, she never doubted his love for Scott or for her.
If Mom had lived, maybe it would be different, but without her-without anyone- it's so hard to get Daddy to butt out.
She knew Bobby was broke. She knew he was humiliated over his disbarment, and her heart ached for him. But maybe Daddy was right. Maybe it was better to have Scott away in boarding school, rather than spending half his time in Miami with Bobby, subjected to God-knows-what influences. Though he meant well, Bobby sometimes showed poor judgment.
Either way, with Scott in Miami for six months or boarding school for nine, it would still be hard on her. She was guilt stricken and lonely when Scott was away. Sure, she'd fly to Miami every other weekend, or Bobby would bring Scott to wherever Dallas was playing, but still…she felt hollow and anguished in the stillness of her home without her only child.
I had a husband and a son. Now, no husband, and sometimes it feels as if I have no son, either.
Often, arriving at her empty, dark house after late meetings in the office, she carried her take-out Chinese cartons straight up to bed and cried herself to sleep. Her last thoughts were of Scott and Bobby and how she missed them.
Yes, Bobby, I miss you, too.
Ever since the nightmare of Bobby's televised press conference, Christine had felt torn between the two men, the conflict cleaving at her heart.
Maybe she should change her life, get away from her father. She considered leaving the team and starting a company on her own. Hey, she had an MBA from Wharton and a dozen years of business experience, but as the boss' daughter, she was treated with too much respect on one hand and not given enough credit on the other. She needed to make her mark. Her father kept talking about grooming Craig Stringer to be the general manager of the team, but would he, really? She doubted that Daddy would give up control until they carried him out of the office, boots first. And even if he did turn over operations to Craig, what would change for her? She'd go from daughter of the old boss to girlfriend — or wife — of the new one. In her heart, she knew she could do a better job than either of the two men.
'How are you and Craig doing?' her father asked when they finished going over the finances.
'I don't know, Daddy.' Evasion was simpler.
'It's a perfect match,' he said. 'You have the same interests. You can talk football with him, and he can talk business with you. You both love horses, and you're both great riders. You want another child, and the Stringer gene pool looks damn good from my skybox.'
'Daddy, please don't treat me like your prize heifer.'
He steadied his gaze, his blue eyes cool as coins. 'Can you give me one reason why you shouldn't marry Craig Stringer?'
'I don't feel enough when we kiss.'
'Romance doesn't last,' he said, shaking his head. 'Security, common goals, commitment, and loyalty, that's what marriage is all about. Craig's a great catch and you know it. He's a good man.'
'He's vain and a born womanizer.'
'He's over that phase, darlin'. When he started seeing you, I made it damn clear he couldn't run around with any more cheerleaders or models, or I'd hang his balls from an old hickory tree.'
'Daddy, I'm a grown woman, divorced with a child. It's not necessary to stand at the door with a shotgun.'
He barked a laugh and said, 'You get much older without marrying, I'll have to wound a man just to get you a husband.'
14
After Christine left his office, Kingsley packed his attache case for the flight to Green Bay. He felt the electric buzz of anticipation that always started the day before a game.
He was juiced. Hell, this is what he lived for.
My daughter, my grandson, my team. My cup runneth over.
His mind was focused on the shiny image of the Commissioner's trophy, the prize for the Super Bowl champion, when he heard a disturbance coming from his outer office. The door flew open, and Molly, his secretary
