Chapter Nineteen

 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen Finn quite like this before, Max. Sure, he’s been down in the dumps in the past, like when he didn’t get drafted by the 49ers and found out he was going to Miami instead. Or when he threw that interception in the last regular season game, which wound up costing his team a playoff spot. But neither of those times has been anything like this. I’m starting to think maybe I should write him a prescription for Zoloft or Prozac to help snap him out of this depression he’s sunk into.”

Max shook his head. “He doesn’t need anti-depressants, Jordan. More like a good, hard kick in the arse to snap him out of it.”

“I can hear both of you loud and clear, you know,” retorted Finn. “You just think you’re being discreet. Not the case, guys. And I don’t need to pop pills or get my ass kicked. What I need - never mind, let’s not go there again, okay?”

“Would you like one of us to try calling her?” offered Jordan. “I mean, since it looks like she’s hanging tough to her decision not to speak with you ever again.”

Finn scowled. “She never said ever again. Her exact words were “for the moment”. And no, I do not want either of you assholes calling or emailing Delilah and asking her if she still likes me. Christ, what do you think this is anyway - junior high school?”

Max shrugged. “Considering that she told you “for the moment” more than three weeks ago, I’d say you should seriously consider Jordan’s offer. Either that or accept that it’s over, snap out of this funk you’ve been in, and move on.”

Jordan let out a low whistle. “Wow. What’s with the tough love this afternoon, Max? I thought the whole reason we strong-armed Finn into going out with us was to cheer him up, take his mind off his problems, and remind him that we’re here to support him.”

“Which is exactly what you and I have been doing for almost a month, Jordan,” Max reminded him briskly. “And since the hand-holding and back-patting and commiserating hasn’t done a damned thing to help, I thought perhaps a change in strategy might be called for. Besides, if attending a baseball game - a pastime you know I despise - isn’t proof of my support then I don’t know what is. Why we couldn’t have gone to the theater instead is beyond me, especially since the play is a comedy and there was a matinee performance this afternoon.”

Jordan sighed. “Because we’re trying to cheer Finn up, that’s why. And since he happens to really like baseball, I figured it was a good idea to do something that he’d actually enjoy doing. Though from the looks of him, I’d say our idea hasn’t exactly been a rousing success so far.”

“I’m still right here, you know,” retorted Finn. “Can still hear every word loud and clear. And while I appreciate the effort you guys are making - especially Max, AKA Mister Empathy - I don’t think anything is going to help. Hell, I don’t even think a combination of Disneyland, the circus, the zoo, and two dozen puppies could get a smile out of me right now.”

“Hey, at least you’re talking,” pointed out Jordan a tad too cheerfully. “For awhile there I thought you might be catatonic or something.”

“I’m not catatonic,” insisted Finn. “I’m - hell, I don’t know what I am these days except a big fucking mess. Tell you what. Let’s just watch the game and hold the conversation for now, okay?”

Max and Jordan nodded, agreeable for the moment to let him continue to wallow in his miserable state of self-pity and near-despair. The same state he’d existed in - if you could call what he’d been doing lately really existing - ever since that awful, catastrophic night in Las Vegas.

He shuddered now to recall the tawdry, disreputable scene that Delilah had stumbled upon in that nightclub - with him two sheets to the wind, laughing and joking with a rowdy group of current and former football players, and three women hanging all over him. Some of the details were still a little hazy, but he remembered that there had been dozens of empty glasses and bottles of booze crammed onto the table where he’d been holding court. The lurid scenario must have resembled a wild, hedonistic bacchanal, a fitting sort of party for a place called Caesars Palace.

He hadn’t blamed Delilah in the least for fleeing that dreadful scene as fast as possible, and for refusing to remain in Las Vegas one minute longer than necessary. If their positions would have been reversed, Finn knew he would have been out of his mind with anger and hurt, though instead of discreetly exiting the wild party on his own, he would have tossed his woman over his shoulder and forcibly carried her out of the place.

But while he totally understood why she had been so angry and disappointed by his disreputable behavior, he had really believed that after a little time had gone by she would be prepared to at least talk to him face to face, to let him apologize profusely, and beg her forgiveness. Those beliefs, however, had weakened with each day that passed and with no attempt on Delilah’s part to contact him. And Finn was beginning to run out of the various creative ways in which he’d tried to get in touch with her - and also beginning to run out of hope that she would ever agree to speak to him again.

She’d blocked both his cell and home phone numbers, and was either deleting the numerous emails he’d been sending on a daily basis, or had figured out some way of blocking his email address, too. She hadn’t asked for the return of the key he had to her condo, probably because that would have involved actually communicating with him in some manner, but even someone as arrogant as Finn wouldn’t have entered her place unannounced and without permission. He’d intentionally hovered outside of his door at various times of the day and night, often as early as four in the morning or as late as eleven in the evening, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, but thus far it hadn’t happened. Armando had reluctantly informed him that Ms. Ferris had more or less threatened to tell the owners of the building if she discovered he’d told Finn anything about her comings and goings. And since the concierge really needed his job, he’d told Finn that his days of playing informant were over, at least for the time being.

But Finn hadn’t been that easily deterred, and continued to look for ways to get in touch with Delilah, or at least let her know that she was constantly in his thoughts, that he wanted nothing more than a chance to talk to her for a few minutes. He’d sent an untold number of floral arrangements, plants, fruit baskets, boxes of candy, and even a giant Teddy bear holding a heart shaped pillow with “I Love You” written on it. He had had all of his gifts delivered to her office, knowing that Calvin would be the one to sign for any such deliveries. And unlike that traitor Armando, he knew that he could count on Delilah’s sly, conniving PA to be on his side, given that Calvin wanted his boss to get back together with Finn almost as much as Finn did - though his reasons might be somewhat on the self-centered side.

“You have no idea what a beyotch the Boss Lady has been ever since she caught you red-handed in Vegas,” Calvin had confided in a hushed voice just a few days after what he referred to as “the incident”. “You ever hear that saying ‘I have one nerve left and you’re getting on it’? Well, that’s what it feels like every single time I tiptoe into her office lately. She doesn’t know it yet but I secretly removed every sharp object from her office, or anything heavy that she could throw at me.”

“FYI,” Finn had replied in a huff, “she didn’t exactly catch me red-handed. There was no hanky-panky going on, honest.”

“Hah, hah. Pull my other leg while you’re at it,” Calvin had retorted snarkily. “From what I managed to pry out of my very cranky boss, you had one tart on your lap, and two others trying to dislodge her. And judging by the pictures I saw, you practically had a foursome going on there.”

“Pictures?” Finn had asked in a panic. “What pictures are you talking about?”

“Oh, please. Like the tabloids weren’t chomping at the bit to get some new footage of the biggest player in the NFL - the biggest off the field player, to be exact,” Calvin had snickered. “You made the front page of at least three of them. And sorry to say, but the pictures make everything look ten times worse than what I heard from the boss. You’d better hope that she never sees any of them, because there would be zero chance she would even allow your name to be mentioned in her presence again.”

“Shit.” Finn hadn’t even considered the idea of the tabloids publishing photos from that damned party. He had hoped and prayed that Desiree had given up her habit of regularly searching the internet for tawdry news stories about him, and then passing that information on to her sister. “We’ll have to hope for the best, I guess. Now, tell me. What did she say when the cookie bouquet was delivered?”

There had been a several second pause before Calvin had responded. “Um, well, she didn’t eat any of them if that’s what you mean. And she told me to leave them in the break room for anyone who wanted one. But at least she smiled for a couple of seconds when she saw them. At least, I think that was a smile. But it could have been a snarl, too.”

Finn had heaved a sigh of frustration. “Yeah, I think it’s going to take a lot more than some cookies and flowers to win her back, Calvin. Look, thanks for keeping me in the loop, buddy. I know you want to be loyal to Delilah, so I really appreciate you sneaking info to me from time to time.”

“Hey, no worries, Mr. McHottie. After all, I’m a real romantic at heart, you know? Big fan of the happily ever after. So I’m in your corner, dude. I’m also sick and tired of having to tiptoe around the Boss Lady every day, so the sooner you get back together the happier everyone will be around this place.”

“That includes yours truly,” Finn had assured him. “Seriously, though, Calvin, I owe you big time. Maybe I should start sending the candy and flowers to you instead of Delilah.”

Calvin had actually giggled, a bit too girlishly for Finn’s liking. “Ooh, I like that idea! In fact, we can try and make her jealous in the process. Then again, she knows for sure that you don’t swing that way. Tell you what, Finn McHottie. You can show your appreciation instead by taking me out to a really expensive lunch one of these days. After,” he added with a groan, “this whole Bloomingdale’s deal is finally settled and we’re actually permitted to leave the office for more than ten minutes at a time, that is.”

Finn was saved from having to make what would have been a very awkward response when Delilah summoned Calvin into her office and he had to end the call abruptly. He was well aware that Calvin loved to flirt with him, though Finn was never quite sure if the PA was being serious or just messing with his head.

But while he continued to keep in touch with Calvin, the last thing Finn wanted to do was get him in trouble with Delilah so he tried not to contact him too often. If it hadn’t been for Calvin, though, he would have no idea what was going on with Delilah, given the way she’d cut him out of her life so quickly and thoroughly.

The very last word anyone who knew Finn would have ever used to describe him was depressed. A few weeks ago he would have laughed at the very suggestion that he would ever succumb to depression or sadness, and yet that had been his state of mind consistently ever since Las Vegas. He’d had trouble sleeping, had stopped going to the gym or working out due to a total lack of motivation, and when he did bother to eat it was nearly always something unhealthy like a pizza, greasy tacos, a pint of ice cream, or half a bag of Oreos. Oddly enough, though, the one thing he hadn’t sought comfort from was alcohol. He’d completely abstained from the stuff ever since the night of the party, shuddering in distaste whenever he thought about having a beer or a cocktail. After all, he had that old demon rum - or in his case vodka - to blame for the bulk of his woes. The rest of them, he admitted, fell solely on his own shoulders.

Jordan and Aubrey had tried to cheer him up by having him over to their place for dinner, but only after Aubrey had chewed his ass out good and hard. Max had merely given him a look of undisguised disgust, and shaken his head, though Finn had received his silent message loud and clear - that he’d ruined what had been the best thing to ever happen to him. And he hadn’t had the heart to break the news to his parents yet, merely fobbing his mother off with some story about Delilah being way too busy at work right now to chat with her. Finn only hoped he could keep spinning half-truths to his mother for awhile longer, because if Susan McManus learned the truth about what had happened, it was just possible she’d stop talking to her oldest child for a long time to come.

He hadn’t been able to ignore his obligations at the NFL Network, however, now that there was only one more pre-season game remaining, and with the regular season starting in less than two weeks. He’d had to force himself to appear even somewhat enthusiastic during the taping of the show he co-hosted with three other retired players, but everyone on the crew had immediately noticed how withdrawn and morose he’d been. Those friends and co-workers had also tried just about everything to snap him out of his funk, but Finn had steadfastly refused to even consider most of their suggestions. He had no desire to go bar-hopping or drink away his troubles, and the very last thing he intended to do was seek consolation in the arms of another woman. There was only one woman he wanted in his life, and anyone else would be a pathetic substitute as far as he was concerned.

He was well aware that his wide circle of friends and colleagues figured he must have had some sort of breakdown, or was suffering from severe depression, but he honestly didn’t give a shit what any of them thought or what sort of gossip they might be spreading about him. He flew to L.A. early on Friday mornings, headed straight for the TV studio where he would spend most of the day taping his show, and then retreated to the apartment the network rented for him each season. In the past, Finn would have stayed there just long enough to shower and change before heading back out with his co-workers for a night of fun in the numerous bars, restaurants, and clubs located right outside the apartment building in the bustling Hollywood area. For the past three weeks, however, he’d stayed in and had dinner delivered, a meal that he had little to no appetite for and had to force himself to eat.

He’d spend a few more hours at the studio on Saturday before catching a flight back to San Francisco. Soon enough he’d be flying out instead to whatever Sunday game he’d been assigned to that week, and while he wasn’t looking forward to the trips as he would have in the past, it would still be something to occupy both his time and his thoughts. And, he thought grimly, to cut down on the hours and hours he spent each day feeling sorry for himself.

At least, he thought wryly, the Giants looked like they were going to win the game this afternoon. With barely a month remaining in the season, the local baseball team most likely wasn’t going to make the playoffs, but they had been on a winning streak as of late so anything was possible. Finn supposed that he ought to be happy about that, given his enjoyment of almost all types of sports, and his support of all the local teams. But it was tough to summon up much enthusiasm about anything these days, and he had initially refused Jordan’s invitation to attend the game today followed by a late lunch/early dinner. In the end, though, Finn had decided that it was better than sitting around his condo moping, and had reluctantly agreed to meet his friends.

As usual, Max wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was utterly bored with the action on the field, and had been practically glued to his phone most of the afternoon.

“How did the stock market finish today, Max?” inquired Finn dryly.

Max didn’t even attempt to deny that he’d spent the better part of the afternoon answering emails, checking stock prices, and reading the financial news. “It closed up barely under a hundred points,” replied Max calmly. “And just in case you thought I wasn’t paying attention, the current score of this game is four to two in favor of the Giants.”

Finn scowled. “All you had to do was glance up at the scoreboard to figure that out.”

“On the contrary, Finn, I’ve actually been following the game rather closely,” Max corrected. “The Giants scored a run in the bottom of the second inning on a solo home run, then scored the second run in the fifth inning after a double, a stolen base, and a long fly ball brought the runner in from third. And the final two runs came in the seventh on another home run, this one with a man on base.”

Jordan grinned. “It’s that eerie photographic memory of his, Finn. I’d be really creeped out about how he can remember just about anything if it didn’t fascinate me at the same time.”

“Actually,” drawled Max, “I’m just very good at multi-tasking. Looks like we’re down to one out in the top of the ninth, and the opposing batter already has two strikes. Should we start heading out?”

Ten minutes later the three of them were being seated at the 21^st Amendment, Finn’s favorite restaurant in the increasingly trendy neighborhood that had sprung up around the ballpark. He knew for a fact that it was far from Max’s sort of place, but surprisingly his uptight friend didn’t so much as grimace as their waiter handed them menus. Though the real shock came when Max actually ordered a beer, instead of his usual glass of wine or a cocktail.

Max shrugged when Jordan ribbed him about his choice. “It’s a warm evening, we just left a baseball game, and I believe it’s an American tradition to drink beer on such occasions. Don’t, however, expect me to order a burger and fries. My moral support for Finn only extends so far.”

“Speaking of which,” Finn commented. “I haven’t thanked you guys for dragging me out of my cave for a few hours and trying to take my mind off of things. Especially since you both had to miss work this afternoon.”

Jordan waved a hand dismissively. “It’s been a little slow at the office this past month, lots of patients still on vacation, I guess. And with Aubrey out of town on a business trip, I was a little lonely myself.”

Max nodded. “I’m actually in between clients right now myself. I don’t start another job until after Labor Day, so I’ve been using the time to catch up on some reading and clean out old files. And research some investments I’m thinking of making.”

“Yeah,” muttered Finn. “During a baseball game, no less. Hey, no big deal. I’m just grateful for the company. If you two hadn’t strong armed me into coming today, I’d be watching reruns of How I Met Your Mother. Or Family Feud, or some other game show. Either that, or writing another letter to Delilah that she’ll probably just toss in the trash.”

Jordan nearly spewed out the mouthful of beer he had just swallowed, pounding himself on the chest to keep from choking, while Max stared at Finn with his jaw agape.

“You wrote a letter?” croaked Jordan, after drinking down half a glass of water. “Like an actual letter?”

Finn glared darkly at his friend. “Yes. A real, honest to God letter. Granted, I had to go out and buy some note paper and envelopes. And a pen, since the ones I had were all out of ink. I figured since Delilah blocked my calls and ignores my emails and has de-friended me on Facebook that an old-fashioned letter was the only method left to get in touch with her. Though if she’s actually read any of them, I wouldn’t know since she hasn’t replied.”

“What I can’t figure out,” observed Jordan, “is why you haven’t just stopped by her office and barged your way in to see her? From what you’ve told me about her assistant, he’s not exactly bodyguard material.”

Finn smirked. “Yeah, Calvin definitely isn’t someone you want at your side during a brawl. But he’s actually been trying to play peacemaker these past few weeks, making sure that all of the gifts I’ve sent Delilah get delivered to her, keeping me up to date on her whereabouts, that sort of thing. Apparently she hasn’t been in a very good mood as of late, and everyone in the office is waiting for her to snap. She also happens to be back in New York at the moment at the Bloomingdale offices, so the storming of her studio will have to wait a few more days.”

“So what exactly did you say in this letter you wrote her?” inquired Jordan skeptically.

“Letters,” corrected Finn. “I think I’ve sent around six of them so far, the latest one a couple of days ago. And just to illustrate how desperate I am to get her back, I might have told her - believe it or not - that I’d even give up my job at the network after this season is over with, as well as not renew my contract with Volcano Vodka when it expires at the end of this year. I told her that she’s the most important thing in my life, way more than a job that’s going to take me away from her every weekend for four months. Not to mention all of the social obligations that go along with it. I want her to be able to trust me fully, to know that I’m not going to be front page fodder for the tabloids because I got a little too wild at some party. Or worry that I’m going to cave in to peer pressure while I’m away and hook up with other women. Do you think - I mean, did I overreact there a little, go too far? Because I’m starting to get pretty fucking desperate, guys, and I’d do just about anything she asked of me at this point as long as she was willing to take me back.”

Max was the one to sputter and choke on his beer this time, reaching for his glass of water frantically. His eyes were still watery and his voice hoarse as he told Finn, “And here I was still trying to believe that you actually know how to write a letter. But this - to go so far as to be willing to give up a job that you love, plus an endorsement deal that I know is worth a few million dollars a year.”

“I love Delilah more,” Finn insisted. “And I want to prove to her that I don’t need to hobnob with celebrities or attend flashy parties. Up until I met her that was the sort of thing I lived for, as you guys know. But after I met Delilah, I started thinking about how shallow and empty and kind of lonely my life really was. I realized that while I might be surrounded by people most of the time I was also very much alone. So, yeah. If giving up the broadcasting job so I don’t have to be away from her, and not having to attend those parties that she hates results in her taking me back, then I’d give them both up in a heartbeat. It’s not like I need the money, after all. Despite my so-called sordid lifestyle I’m actually something of a cheapskate. I’m still cringing at how much money Max had me spend on a couple of ties.”

Jordan and Max both chuckled good-naturedly, relieved to see their morose friend smiling and joking again. For the remainder of their meal, Finn avoided the subject of Delilah, preferring to talk about football or the stock market or even the wedding plans that Jordan and Aubrey had begun to make, and his friends were more than content to help take his mind off of his problems.

Finn insisted on paying the check. “Hey, it’s the least I can do after you guys have been putting up with all of my crap for the last few weeks.”

Max arched a brow. “The last few weeks? More like the last two decades. But thank you for dinner, Finn. And have some faith, hmm? I think you’ve done everything in your power to convince Delilah how sorry you are, and that you truly care for her. Perhaps she just needs a bit more time to think things over. I do know that she cares for you, too, and feelings like that don’t go away overnight.” He exhaled sharply. “Trust me, I know all about that sort of thing. But don’t look hopeful, because I’m not about to discuss Seattle with either of you. Maybe one of these days when I’ve had far too much to drink.”

Jordan snorted. “Which means never, because you’re as controlled about how much booze you consume as you are about everything else in your perfectly ordered life. Anyway, thanks for dinner, Finn. And Max is right. All of this will sort itself out sooner than later. I mean, how can she not respond after a letter like that?”

The three friends walked out of the restaurant together, with Finn insisting he wanted to walk home, since his condo building was less than three blocks from here, while Jordan and Max decided to share a taxi.

But before they could flag one down, Max suggested that they have a nightcap first in the lobby bar of a nearby hotel. Jordan didn’t have to be at the hospital for rounds until ten in the morning so he agreed readily.

A few minutes later, after both men had ordered a glass of cognac, Max didn’t waste any time with idle chitchat as he asked Jordan, “So, I thought since you have a medical degree and I have two masters degrees, between the two of us we ought to be able to figure out how to fix things between Finn and Delilah. Do you agree?”

Jordan grinned. “You have heard the old saying that street smarts kicks brain smarts ass, haven’t you? While you and I might have advanced education, that doesn’t mean we have degrees in figuring out matters of the heart. But, hey, I’m willing to put our heads together and see if there’s a way we can get them back together. Any ideas?”

“Just one. Though I’ll warn you now. It might involve - just a bit, mind you - of kidnapping if Delilah won’t come along with us willingly.”

Jordan took a sip of his drink. “I’m all ears.”