The smile morphed into a grin, and Avery let loose with a giggle-like noise she immediately covered with a snort.
“I thought it was a real attention-grabber,” Kate said, preening on her stool. “Must be about time, right?”
The six-week mark had passed the previous Thursday. Classes had started, and Ty’s assistants were holding conditioning workouts. To Millie, they looked suspiciously like full practices. But she couldn’t tell him about them, because she’d stopped taking his calls. Then, when she finally broke down and tried to reach him, she went directly to voicemail. Apparently, Ty was done taking it on the chin, and she couldn’t really blame him.
Still, she hadn’t expected him to go completely radio silent. No talking, no texting, not even any responses to business-related emails. Like he was punishing her for their telephonic transgressions. Or the lack of finesse in her gamesmanship. Either way, she was the one in the doghouse, and she hadn’t a clue when to expect him back on campus.
Taking a stab at studied nonchalance, Millie reached for her purse and pulled a tube of lip gloss from the inner pocket.
“Errrrrrgh!” Avery made an obnoxious nasal sound reminiscent of a scoreboard buzzer.
Millie froze, her gaze darting from one friend to another, her fingers clutching the tube like a lifeline. “What the hell?”
“The lipstick defense won’t work.” Kate reached over and snatched the gloss from her hand. “And don’t even bother with your phone. I’m onto the bit where you email yourself from one account to another to make it buzz.”
Avery gave her a slow, pitying shake of her frizzy head. “Almost as bad as the bit where a woman sends herself flowers to make herself look desirable.” Millie glared, but Avery simply shrugged the pointed look off. “I saw someone do that in a movie. Or maybe it was a rerun of Cheers.”
Seeing her opening, Millie dove through. “I loved that show. Sam was hot, but I think I would have done Woody instead. The name, you know.”
“Of course.” Kate nodded. “So, are you going to spill, or do I need to get Gloria Steinem”—she gestured to Avery—“to remind you the solidarity of sisterhood is the only thing that separates us from the animals?”
“I thought we were superior due to our ability to accessorize,” Millie quipped, lunging for another pop culture lifeboat in hopes of distracting her friends from this line of questioning. “Did I tell you about the handbag I scored? Kate Spade. Well, a fake Spade, because university salary and all.”
She tossed in an airy wave of her hand but quickly tucked it back into her lap when she saw the women across from her were as entrenched as CNN reporters. Sucking in a breath, she exhaled in a huff strong enough to stir the stack of paper napkins tucked into the condiment caddy on the table. Crossing her arms over her chest, she leveled a stern stare on one, then the other before owning up. “No, I don’t know when he’s coming back.”
Kate grinned like a cat covered in canary feathers as she sat up even taller on her stool. “I do.”
Millie squinted at the woman who, up until three minutes before, she would have called her best friend. And she kept her narrowed gaze locked on her on the off chance her laser-like focus might cut through the barroom gloom and extract the data directly from Kate’s brain. When the mind meld failed, she cocked a brow and reclaimed her daiquiri.
“Good for you.” She lifted the glass and latched on to the straws with a vengeance.
“Tell me you’re sorry about wanting to leak my honeymoon pictures to the press.”
“But I’m not,” Millie countered. “If anything, it would have given you an opportunity to be the first collegiate coach with a legitimate shot at making the swimwear editions.”
“Exactly what I’ve been aiming for my entire career,” Kate muttered.
“I’d never let them exploit our Katie.” Avery’s response was automatic but a bit distracted. “How much do they pay for those things anyway?”
Millie looked over and found Avery staring intently at the scotch in her glass. She smirked. “I hear you get some decent moolah. Should we call a modeling agency?” Millie asked with exaggerated sweetness.
“I think between me and Danny, we’ll be able to cover the light bill.” Kate laughed, but an edge of sharpness undercut the effect. Wetting her lips, Kate dismissed her moodiness with a short shake of her head. “Sorry. Just a little tired of being talked about like a commodity.”
Millie grimaced an apology. Kate’s contract negotiations had taken on new dimensions when the university had tried to dismiss Danny due to their personal involvement. All of Kate’s future happiness, personal and professional, had boiled down to what essentially became a game of chicken played out in the media. As her friend, Millie couldn’t blame her for wanting to shy away from the spotlight, but professionally, she had an obligation to the university and to Kate herself to be certain she was positioned to grab all the best possible opportunities for publicity. It was a constant struggle for balance but one she was supremely adept at handling. The high-wire act was part of what Millie loved about her job, and Kate knew and understood. The dichotomy kept their friendship interesting, if not always harmonious.
Avery set her glass on the table and, with her trademark single-mindedness, followed her thoughts straight down the rabbit hole. “I bet they pay well though, and if you were to put the money toward—”
“I don’t want to be anybody’s poster girl.” Kate paused, then split a look between them. “Like everyone else, I want to be left alone to do my job.”
Millie nodded, swallowing any smart-assery she might have spewed a couple of months before as she remembered Ty expressing the same sentiment nearly word for word the night
