Payoff Pitch (Philadelphia Patriots) (23 page)

As Teddy headed over to join her friend, she scanned the room, recognizing most of the faces from previous LEAP events. Though the group’s stated aim was community mobilization on environmental issues, about ninety percent of the attendees came from the city’s university campuses. That wasn’t surprising to her, since most people were too busy working and taking care of their families to spend an evening with a bunch of earnest students.

She thought tonight’s meeting would be of more interest than most of the monthly events. The guest speaker was from a national organization campaigning to convince universities all over the country to divest themselves of assets in oil and gas corporations. Teddy thought she could get behind any campaign that would pressure business and government to move away from reliance on fossil fuels. After all, she’d seen firsthand how unrestrained drilling could ruin farms and communities.

“Hey, Teddy,” Rachel said. Like the guy she was talking to, Rachel was rocking an all-black outfit—jeans, a Rage Against the Machine T-shirt, and Converse running shoes. “This is Chance. He’s a law student at Penn. Chance, this is Teddy Quinn. Teddy’s aiming to go to law school, too.”

“Cool.” Chance eyed her chest and then stuck out a hand.

Teddy mentally sighed and gave his hand a quick shake. “I’d love to be able to go to Penn, but I’d have to win the lottery first.”

“Yeah, the tuition there is bullshit,” Chance said. “All education would be free in any kind of just society.”

“Chance was part of Occupy Wall Street,” Rachel said admiringly.

Chance’s slouch disappeared as his chest thrust forward. “Fuck, yeah. You guys should have been there. We kicked some ass. Biggest thing I’ve ever been involved in.”

While Teddy didn’t disagree that getting a degree was way too expensive, she had no desire to hear boastful—and boring—stories about demonstrations. She glanced toward the rows of seats, thinking she should grab one on the aisle so she could escape easily if she needed to.

“Teddy’s earning her living these days dog sitting for rich clients,” Rachel said, “and she’s just landed one of the Patriots. I think it’s awesome that she’s going to get the one percent to pay for her law school.” She gave a little chuckle as she looked at Chance for approval.

Chance’s head jerked backward. “No shit?”

Teddy could have strangled Rachel for bringing up the subject, especially in this setting. She’d only casually mentioned it on the phone to her friend, never thinking Rachel would actually talk about it. “It’s a living,” she said with a shrug.

“Which player?” Chance asked. “I’m a Patriots fan.”

Teddy wouldn’t have guessed the black-garbed Occupy Wall Street guy for a baseball fan, but who knew? When it came to guys, sports seemed to transcend all barriers.

She hesitated a moment, reluctant to reveal the name of a public personality like Noah. Then again, Noah didn’t seem to be treating it like it was a state secret. “One of the pitchers,” she replied, playing it safe.

Surely that would send a message that she wasn’t interested in revealing any more information than that.

Chance gave her a puzzled look, as if he didn’t understand her hesitancy. Then his blond brows knitted in a frown and his mouth turned down. “Is it Noah Cade? Is that why you don’t want to say his name?”

His sharp tone had Teddy’s mouth dropping open. When Rachel gasped and looked stricken, she officially began to get a very bad feeling. And Chance was now glaring at her as if she’d just told him she was working for Dick Cheney.

Teddy tried for the coolly polite approach. “And why is that a problem?”

Chance practically snarled at her. “The fucking Cades—are you fucking crazy? They’re the enemy, for Christ’s sake.”

The guy wasn’t a bruiser or particularly buff, but that didn’t stop Teddy from feeling the menace behind his sneering words and attitude. Still, she’d be damned if she’d let some law school punk with a wispy pseudo-beard intimidate her. “Stand down, pal.
I’m
not the enemy. If you want to calmly tell me what the hell you’re talking about, I might listen. Otherwise, go sit down so I can talk to my friend.”

“I think you should go, Chance,” Rachel said, plucking at his sleeve. “Let me talk to Teddy.”

“This is total bullshit,” the guy snapped. With a final, petulant glare, he stalked off to the front of the room.

Teddy rubbed the back of her perspiring neck. “Jesus, Rach, what was that all about? That guy’s a nut job.” She started toward the big coffee urn set up at the side of the room. “I need coffee. Or, better yet, a stiff drink.”

“I’m sorry about that.” Rachel slipped a hand through her arm as they walked over to the coffee table. “Chance can be an asshole sometimes. But you shocked the hell out of both of us, Teddy.”

“Well, I have no idea how, so you’d better tell me,” she said as she filled a cup from the urn.

Rachel grimaced. “Teddy, the Cade family is Baron Energy.
The
Baron Energy. As I recall, Adam Cade—Noah’s father—founded the company, and he’s definitely still the CEO.”

Teddy felt her mouth drop open again. Then she snapped it shut, afraid she was going to be sick.

Baron Energy
. One of the companies drilling and fracking the hell out of her county.

“God, I need to sit,” she mumbled, dropping into a nearby metal chair.

Rachel squeezed by her to take the next chair and grasped her hand. “Look, Teddy, I’ve never heard anything about Noah Cade being
actively
involved in the company.”

That didn’t surprise her. Not when Noah was totally focused on his baseball career, almost to the exclusion of everything else.

Except me.

She shook that thought off. “He’s never said a word about Baron Energy to me.” She was barely able to grind out the words.

He’d said his father and brother were engineers and businessmen and owned a ranch. That description now seemed like it might have been a dodge. Did it mean he was ashamed of his family or the company?

No, that sounded like she was grasping at straws. After all, she’d never pressed him for details, nor had she told him anything about gas drilling in her family’s area. All he knew was that she’d grown up on a dairy farm in Susquehanna County and lost her finger in a farm accident.

How had they managed to become so…so intimate while still knowing so little about each other? Suddenly, she felt incredibly stupid.

At the head table, the LEAP chairman—a professor at Drexel—rose and cleared his throat. “It’s a little past seven-thirty so it’s time to get going. I’m sure you’re all anxious to get to the main item on tonight’s agenda, our guest speaker…”

Teddy was pretty sure the speaker would be an interesting guy. Too bad she wouldn’t absorb a word he said.

Though Noah rarely went out with the guys after a game, he hadn’t hesitated tonight when Nate demanded that he help celebrate the Patriots’ win in the closing game of their series with Washington. Last night he’d plumbed the lowest depths of his baseball career, pitching like crap and getting demoted to the bullpen. But then suddenly everything changed, starting with those spectacular hours in the arms of sweet Teddy Quinn.

Yeah, this morning Teddy had looked and sounded troubled both by what had happened between them in his bedroom and by whatever the hell it was Cristina was up to. But the vibes coming off her body sent him a different message. When he’d taunted her with a couple of sexy come-ons, she’d pretty much glowed. And even when she made a point of saying she was going to shower
alone
, the very fact that a certain scenario had obviously come into her mind—one that involved a lot of naked, soapy skin that wasn’t just her own—confirmed for him that her hormones were still every bit as ramped up as his.

When he got home tonight, he had every intention of exploring the extent of her determination to keep him at arms’ length. She might try, but he had
very
long arms.

Ryan Locke hoisted his bottle of Stella in a toast. “You pulled our nuts out of the fire tonight, man. You really gutted it out.”

The other six men around the table in the South Philly pub voiced their agreement, and Noah clinked his bottle with each of theirs in turn. “Well, I needed redemption after I screwed up last night.”

God bless Jack Ault.
Not only had the manager gone to bat for Noah with the front office to prevent him from being demoted to the minors, he’d had the guts to put Noah right back out there today. Not as the starting pitcher, of course, because starters needed four days off between outings. But because Noah hadn’t pitched that many innings the previous day, Ault had sent him in to relieve in the fifth when the situation was a disaster in the making. The Patriots’ starting pitcher had given up three runs in the inning already and had men on first and third with only one out. When Ault handed Noah the ball, he’d said he had every confidence that he would throw the next guy a double play ball—one that would get the team out of the inning with no further damage.

Noah hadn’t been able to get that double play. But buoyed by Ault’s vote of confidence and by the vocal encouragement of his teammates, he’d surprised himself by striking out the first Nationals batter with a wicked curveball that had the guy swinging a foot over top of the ball. Ault ordered him to intentionally walk the next batter, a tough lefty hitter, in order to load the bases. That had proved to be the correct strategy, since the following batter chopped a high grounder to third baseman Aiden Marriner who promptly stepped on the bag for a force-out.

Noah threw only six pitches before he was lifted for a pinch hitter, but he’d made them count. And when the Patriot batters, led by a three-run shot from Jake Miller, racked up four runs in the bottom of the inning to grab a lead that the bullpen ultimately preserved, Noah was awarded his first win since his injury the previous year.

And, God, it felt good. Finally he’d done something important for his team.

Jake, the biggest man at the table and still one of the most fearsome sluggers in the National League, said, “It’s about time all the old bastards on this team started to earn their big bucks.”

Though they all laughed at Jake’s self-deprecating remark, there was more than a little truth to his words. The Patriots had become a veteran team with one of the fattest payrolls in baseball. Though they were expected to win, they hadn’t yet played up to those expectations this season. Nate Carter was the only exception, pitching as well as ever, but he wasn’t human, after all. While some of the younger guys had surprised with solid seasons so far, most of the players around the table at Angelo’s tonight hadn’t yet hit their full stride even though it was already early July.

The men there tonight at Angelo’s were the core of the Patriots. Jack Ault had designated the seven as his “Committee”—the group of players he consulted with on a regular basis, the men whose advice he trusted. These men—these brothers—had to lead and lead big if the Patriots were going to go all the way.

Noah felt privileged to be part of the core group and to still be accepted despite all his post-injury struggles. As the others joked and laughed, he silently vowed that he would do anything and everything it took to carry his weight for the team and for his friends.

For the second night in a row, Noah was late getting home after the game. Teddy had done a quick check on the Internet and found that there had been no extra innings. By now, the game had been over more than ninety minutes. Still, her determination to wait up for him hadn’t flagged. If she didn’t say what she had on her mind right away, she wasn’t sure she’d still have her nerve by morning. She sat in the spacious, comfortably furnished living room steeling her nerves for the coming confrontation she was about to engineer.

Teddy had silently left the LEAP meeting halfway through the guest speaker’s presentation, unable to focus on any of it. Her brain had whirled through endless, frustrating loops of anger, self-recrimination and fear, making concentration impossible then and sleep impossible now. Rachel had hurried out of the meeting after her, but Teddy hadn’t been in any frame of mind to hash out her feelings with her friend.

The first thing on her agenda after returning to the house had been to boot up her laptop and get on the Internet. How could she have not done some in-depth research on Baron Energy months ago when their representatives approached several landowners in the valley? Though she’d scanned the company’s web site at the time and checked out some articles about their shale gas drilling program, none of it had raised any particular red flags for her. Baron had seemed like most other major oil and gas corporations—a big, aggressive public company with interests all over the world but no huge scandals like the BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico.

She couldn’t recall having even seen the Cade family name at the time. Tonight, though, when she searched the web for the company’s history, the role of Adam Cade in founding the business—which was called Palladium Oil until three years ago—was fully evident. Adam Cade was both President and CEO of Baron, while his son Levi was one of six vice-presidents.

The only reference she could find connecting Noah to Baron Energy was in his entry in Wikipedia, and even there it was only one short sentence.

Maybe he’d had a falling out with his family? He certainly didn’t have any love for his stepmother, and that could mean a strained relationship with his father, too. She badly wanted to believe that Noah had nothing to do with Baron Energy. Not that she’d allowed herself any wild and crazy ideas about somehow getting invited into the Cade family, but even a working relationship with Noah would be hard to maintain if he was in lockstep with the people who were determined to rip apart and pollute the countryside she loved.

Toby, sound asleep at her feet, jerked his head up and let out a
woof
that she knew meant
I hear Daddy’s car.
The Poodle bounced to his feet and raced to the door to the garage. A second later, Sadie emerged from the kitchen and scrabbled over the floor to catch up to her littermate.