Chapter 21: Corban

I’d spent the last two nights focusing on the plan. If I didn’t, the fact that Luna hadn’t answered any of my calls or texts would cripple me with worry, extinguishing all hope for any type of future with her. And after so much inner reflection, I found I wanted one. A lot. The only reason I hadn’t crumbled under the strain was thanks to Ross, who’d called me late last night and let me know Luna had come to stay with them, so she was safe and supported.

I strolled down the side aisle separating the tables from the marbleized pale yellow wall in the Concord Exchange, and toward the teleprompter operator near the white screen that had been set up on a raised dais at the end of the long hall.

Luna had outdone herself with the decorations. She’d outdone herself with the catering, the layout, everything, and I hadn’t had the chance to thank her for any of it. I prayed I’d get the chance before the evening ended. I wanted to think that at least some of the spectacular outcome had been done just for me. Wishful thinking.

I’d called my lawyer. I’d spoken with Larissa and Ross about my options. Shit, I’d even leaned on Jeffrey who’d been totally overwhelmed by the whole thing but supportive too. He was the one who’d contacted the teleprompter operator and warned him ahead of time that there might be last minute changes made to the script. And to expect me.

The monologue would take place after the guests had an introductory cocktail in hand and been ushered to their seats. I’d already tipped the bartender in the antechamber. He’d make sure that Thorn’s drink was stronger than usual, and offer him a complimentary beverage with the first. I didn’t even give a shit about that asshat’s possible downfall. I had inside knowledge about his penchant for strong drink, and what goes around comes around. Karma’s a vicious bitch. I was simply giving her an assist.

No funny business. Just the strongest vodka on the market. But it would be enough to get the cart rolling forward.

I moved around a cluster of Arum lilies and scanned the empty tables. The doors at the far end of the room stood open, and the first of the attendees entered, toting half-full glasses, and dressed to the nines.

Most of the women had chosen blue, white, or red cocktail dresses for the event, paying homage to the team uniforms in their designer finery. Except for one who wore black. I’d recognize those shoulders, that upturned nose, those lush breasts anywhere. The sight of Luna entering the event hall made me stumble and lose my breath. Damn, how I wanted to close the gap and take her into my arms so I could stroke her silky hair and do what I should have done the first time I witnessed her tears.

She was here. After two days without contact, she sparkled in my eyes. So brightly it felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked from the room. The world revolved around her in that moment when all my angst hit me so hard I wanted to double over. I shook my head to clear it. I had to focus on the task at hand or that woman – that dream woman – would end up in a worse state than Thorn had already put her in. If I wanted to start something special with her, there had to be a clean slate.

I stepped behind the screen blocking the congregation of wires and screens from view and moved up to the teleprompter’s operator.

“Gary,” I said and halted in front of him. That was the name Jeffrey had given me. I prayed that the bald dude with the half-moon sweat stains under his arms was the right guy.

“You’re Mr. Drake, right? The guy in charge?” the man asked, removing his headphones, and took a bite of a donut. He pointed with it as chocolate crumbs fell from his lips. “I heard there have been some changes to the script.”

The noise from the folks entering the hall swelled. Chairs scraped back, glasses clinked, and people laughed. Mr. Hotshot Emcee would start spouting his scripted bullshit any minute now.

“That’s correct,” I replied. “Some of these changes might seem a little unorthodox.” I took the sheet of paper from my pocket and unfolded it. “But I need you to enter them as-is. Is that understood?”

“Sure. Don’t worry, man, I don’t even know what unorthodox means.”

I pulled a fat wad of cash out of my pocket and handed it over. “Fantastic. Let’s keep it that way.”

Gary’s eyes went the size of the hole in his donut. He took the money and pocketed it. “You got it, man.”

“Oh, and Gary? I know you’re a freelancer, so don’t worry about anything. I’ve got your reputation covered. Right after Thorn gives his monologue, delete the text. If anyone asks, produce the original. And destroy that new piece of paper I just gave you right after you handle it. And… I was never here,” I said and smiled at him. It wasn’t a threatening smile in the slightest, but the teleprompter dude still went pale.

“Anything you say, boss,” he replied. “I’m short on the rent this month. If you wanted Edwards to say he fucked a goat, I wouldn’t bat an eyelash.”

I sidled out from behind the screen and blended in with the crowd, circling until I reached the back tables. I took a seat where I’d have a great view of fuck face during his opening speech and where he’d see me the minute I stood up.

Luna sat diagonally across from me, secreted in part by a large potted plant, its fronds hovering half across her side of the table. No one else had taken a seat beside her, but the other side of her table was already full. She didn’t turn to look at me. She probably didn’t realize I was here. Or maybe she didn’t want to.

Her bare shoulders drooped, and she hung her head, glancing up at the front from beneath her brow. She bit her lip every other minute, reached into her lap, and rearranged the skirt of her dress. And that sadness that laced her eyes was still there. The pain that I wanted to heal.

It killed me to see her this nervous. The papers had gone to town in the last couple days. They’d gone to town on me too, but I gave less of a fuck than she did. I hadn’t officially done anything wrong according to them. I was the ‘innocent’ victim in all of this. Dragged into the sticky web by the Luna Faye Anderson, black widow.

“Keep calm,” I muttered.

“Do you mind if I take this seat?” an elderly woman smiled down at me.

“Please,” I said and gestured to it.

She sat down and admired the centerpiece of the table. “Isn’t this lovely? I never dreamed I’d come to an event like this.”

“I’m glad you like it,” I replied absently.

“I love it. My grandson is on the team, you know. He’s sitting down at the front for now, but he’ll come by later and say hello. I can introduce you two.”

“Who’s your grandson?” I asked. Ice trickled down my spine.

“Peter Jenks,” she said. “There he is.” She waved at a strapping young man near the front, and he grinned and waved back at her.

Thank God. For a minute there, I’d feared Thorn’s granny had booked a ticket to his demise. I wasn’t prone to guilt, but that would’ve been tough to swallow given the sweet demeanor of this attractive older lady.

“Ooh, it’s starting,” Mrs. Jenks said and clapped her withered hands.

The nerves finally kicked in and sweat beaded on my forehead. This was it. God, everything had to go smoothly, or I’d just wasted five thousand dollars and hours of self-torment. I glanced askance at Luna. She still hadn’t seen me. If anything, her downtrodden demeanor had intensified.

The room quieted, and the emcee took to the stage. Thorn Edwards stomped up the two stairs and toward the podium that had been set up for him. The teleprompter screen had been angled to the right so he could read it with ease, enabling the cameras and guests to get a full view of his smug mug in all its chiseled glory.

The players and guests cheered him onto the stage. He halted in front of the podium, flicked his hair out of his eyes, and raised his glass, swaying a little.

Bingo.

The extra strong pours had kicked in as planned. I’d hoped taking advantage of Thorn’s binge drinking habit would work to make him a little off kilter and slow to react. It was a low blow, but so was blackmailing a woman into taking the fall for your failed career and marriage.

“Hey, everybody,” he said in that smooth, southern drawl that had probably charmed multiple women out of their panties. Not after tonight. He didn’t slur or appear too drunk, but the inhibitions were definitely lowered.

“Thorn, how’s it going, man? I hear Cooperstown calling your name!” One of the players cupped his hands around his mouth and hooted. Ass kisser.

“Don’t I know it!” Thorn grinned back at him and cleared his throat. He clinked his glass down on the podium and focused on the teleprompter. “It’s my great pleasure to be here this evening and welcome all of you to this premier event highlighting players past and present of our very own Minnesota Twins. Before we continue with the festivities, there are a few things I’d like to say about the Twins and my time with them.” He paused, took another sip of his drink, gave a boyish wink in the camera’s direction. “But I’m sure all of you already know about my stellar stats.”

Shit. He was already going off script to brag about himself. My stomach started roiling as I realized he wasn’t drunk enough yet. What if he stayed off script the entire monologue and never looked at the teleprompter again?

A smattering of appreciative laughter rippled through the audience. Luna sank lower in her chair, hiding behind the fronds of the potted palm. Anger surged in me, but I kept my cool. Bided my damn time.

“First, the Twins, the team, the administrators, and the coaches, they were like a family to me before the fateful day I injured my knee. My career ended far too soon. Far too soon.”

The atmosphere sobered. Thorn had sent through the proposed speech to be transferred to the teleprompter this past week, and I’d known as I’d read yesterday afternoon that he hadn’t written it himself. That he’d asked his lawyer or his publicist to write it up and make it as slanderous as possible toward Luna while maintaining a modicum of respect appropriate to the function.

I hadn’t edited the slander out for a good reason. I needed Thorn to believe that it was his speech on the screen and that he was in complete control. He knew Luna would be in the crowd and he’d use this opportunity to harass her. That arrogant air of victory that enveloped him would make his downfall sweeter. And more impactful.

“Not a day goes by that I don’t miss the team, my family. It’s an honor to be able to emcee this event for all of you. If I hadn’t been left at the altar by Luna Faye Anderson,” he said, stopping to place a hand over his heart.

A few men interrupted and hissed at the mention of her name. She sank down in her seat. I gritted my teeth so loud they squeaked, and the kindly Mrs. Jenks turned to check on me.

“If she hadn’t left me at the altar, perhaps I would’ve been able to continue playing with the team. The Twins have a strong legacy with or without me, but I’m sure they miss me as much as I miss them. The day I was injured, well… my mind was on my personal failures as a man and not on the important task at hand… winning the World Series.”

This was the part where Thorn wrote that Luna destroyed his manhood by refusing him. It was the perfect portion to edit for my purposes. For our purposes. I held my thumbs and glared at him. Any second now. Any second.

“And by failures,” he said and flicked his gaze to the screen. “I mean the fact that I am an infertile bastard who can’t stand the thought of having children in my life. This is the reason Luna broke off our engageme – what? Wait, what?” He raised his hand and shielded his eyes, glaring at the teleprompter.

Shocked silence greeted him. He’d just announced his little secret to the entire state via live streaming. Flashbulbs went off everywhere. People started raising their cell phones to take video. Some who’d already been taping it gasped in surprise and shock.

Thorn reeled. He picked up his glass and threw it at Gary, the teleprompter operator. The glass shattered at Gary’s feet and screams rang through the hall. “Fuck you, you ignorant little maggot. What did you do? How did you know that?!” Edwards yelled as droplets of vodka showered everyone within five feet of Gary. The younger man’s shocked expression looked like something out of a soap opera. A server already mopped up the liquid and handed Gary a towel. It couldn’t have gone any better if I’d morphed my dark fantasies into reality.

This was beyond perfect. The angrier he got, the deeper he dug his own grave. And the cameras, man, they were still rolling. Live.

Luna had straightened in her seat. She stared up at him, open-mouthed.

“Who told you?” Thorn raged, advancing on the slideshow operator like a madman.

Gary put up his palms and backed away. “I just follow orders, man.” He fumbled around until he produced Thorn’s original typed monologue, shoving it at the angry, quivering asshole. “There. That’s what I received, and that’s what’s typed into the teleprompter. Check it out if you don’t believe me. If you said something different, well, that’s on you,” he lied with expert precision. Even I believed him.

The members of the press who’d taken the back tables closest to mine recorded the interaction on their phones, their cameramen rushing down the side aisles with their equipment, filming every detail of the exchange.

“Who the fuck was in charge of the teleprompter?” Thorn growled.

That was my cue. I stood up and knocked my chair back. Mrs. Jenks gasped.

“Me,” I said coldly.

Thorn froze. The back of his neck flushed. He slued toward me, movements lubricated by the two hundred proof cocktails he’d already consumed. His bloodshot eyes were as red as every inch of his exposed skin. I’d asked the bartender to make sure he got a free row of Lemondrop martinis delivered to his table, just as a final reminder. A final fuck you very much.

“You,” he growled and stormed across the room, bumping the backs of people’s chairs. “You. Who the fuck do you think you are?” He halted in front of me, bristling like a rabid porcupine.

“Do you really want to have this discussion here?” I asked. “In front of all these people and their cameras?” I dropped my voice a few decibels, so only Thorn and Mrs. Jenks could hear me. “You know I know about your infertility, Thorn. Do you think that’s the only thing I know about?”

“I don’t give a fuck what you know,” he grunted, but the lies shone behind the fear in his eyes as his world came tumbling down around him.

“All right,” I said in a voice that carried around the room. “How about the fact that you made Luna Faye sign a nondisclosure agreement, limiting her from ever telling the truth about why you split up? How about the truth, Thorn? All of it.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple scraping past the collar of his shirt.

“What truth?” one of the women closest to us asked. I glanced over at her and blinked. It was the same reporter who’d hovered outside Luna’s house a couple days back, dressed in her weird checked suit outfit.

“Do you want me to tell them?” I asked. Time to double down. “I know everything.”

“Fuck you,” Thorn said and shuddered, but he didn’t deny me. I had him, and he fucking knew it. And the press knew that there was more to what happened between Luna and Thorn than met the eye. Even if I didn’t give them the whole truth now, they’d dig until they found it, and if I’d managed to discover the truth, I’d bet my left nut that they’d get to it faster than I had. Especially Tom Lyden, who I could see out of the corner of my eye, moving in like a scoop loving barracuda.

“You can still salvage your reputation if you clean yourself up,” I said softly. “If you rip up the legal documents binding Luna to that NDA.”

“No,” he said, and a muscle beneath his left eye twitched.

“Right now, they only know your Runaway Bride story. If you don’t straighten up and fly right, they’ll know about the blackmail,” I whispered. “I’ll make sure they find out everything. Including those assault charges you wormed your way out of. Strippers? At the King of Diamonds? Really?”

Thorn stiffened. He went white around the collar and swayed on the spot.

“Are you reading me, Edwards? Do we have an accord?” I’d have a helluva lot to answer for tomorrow at work, but I didn’t care about the Twins account right now. My boss would have to understand, somehow. Or I’d pass it off as Thorn’s mistake.

I could tell it physically hurt Thorn to even consider backing out of the NDA, which gave him tyrannical power over Luna in perpetuity.

“And you’re not just going to rip them up, Edwards. You’re going to let her keep her house and her car, understand?” I was close to poking my finger in his chest but stopped just short of it. “All of it. Plus a six-figure financial compensation for her pain and suffering. Or I. Will. Fucking. Destroy. You. Get it?”

Finally, he opened his mouth. “Fine,” he said, and the strong scent of Icelandic vodka wafted out from between his lips.

“Deal?” I asked, raising my eyebrow.

“Yeah, fine.” He didn’t shake my hand, and I didn’t want him to. I didn’t want that slime ball to touch me. In fact, I hoped that women ran from him screaming for the hills from this point forward.

Thorn stormed passed me and returned to his table, downing another Lemondrop, followed by a wall of murmurs, and then an exodus of the members of the press.

Every eye turned to me. No one seemed to know how to proceed. “Ladies and gentlemen, I apologize for the interruption. Unfortunately, Mr. Edwards appears to have had a little too much to drink and can’t continue his opening speech.”

People quieted down again and sipped from flutes and wine glasses.

“Never fear,” I said. “The show must go on.” I signaled to Gary, who’d already rushed up onto the stage. A couple guys joined him and removed the podium Thorn had used. “Now, without further ado, I’m proud to introduce the evening’s entertainment, Owl City!”

The audience gasped. Men and women erupted into applause as the band took the stage. Turned out, Luna had been right about the band too. Instant hit.

The members jogged onto the stage, clapping along with the audience and smiling. The lead singer took the mic and warbled the opening bars of a song I didn’t recognize.

“That’s that,” I said.

“Not quite,” a voice said behind me. A pale hand grasped my forearm.