On Spark of Magic Page 2

  He laughed and she easily laughed along.

  Looking at her sideways he gave her a crooked smile. "You're not from New York, are you?"

  "No." She waved his notion off. "Is anyone ever really from New York? It's like the breeding ground for all who have dreams. We flock to New York, fall in love with the city and stay."

  Intrigued by her whimsical look at life, he smiled.

  "Does that include you?"

  "Oh yes, to my father's dismay. His wish is that I follow in my parent's footsteps, become an attorney and join the law firm. I promised him if my career does not take off by my twenty-fifth birthday I'll give it a try."

  "When is that?"

  She sighed, "December 25th."

  "That's only a few months away. Will you be able to let the dream go?"

  Tilting her head she smirked. "Dancing is in my blood as deep as the law." She shook her head. "I just don't know."

  The uncertainty showed in her eyes. Everything showed in her eyes. The thought tickled him inside for some reason. She could never play poker. Even now he could see when her thoughts changed from her to him.

  "God must be shining down on me today to have placed you here. Before you came on board I was in a bit of a funk over things with my contract. I'll have to make the same decision as you after this season." He frowned. "If we ever sign one." He looked up at her and smiled. "Now, I believe my time and energy would be better spent just enjoying the opportunity to play."

  "I think that's wise. However, you may want to work a little on swinging at that first pitch." Shaking her head she continued to speak. "Percentages are not your friend at the moment. That first pitch is destroying your numbers. Every pitcher in the league knows you are going to swing at it, so they don't bother to give you anything you can really hit. Sit back on the first pitch a few times and see what they start sending your way. That alone will raise your batting average and if the Knights don't re-sign you, the heck with them. It will be their loss. Any team will pay you double to have that pretty face and monster body in their uniform."

  Jarrett wasn't sure if he was offended or intrigued by her suggestion. He raised an eyebrow at her.

  A shocked look appeared on her face. Her hands flew to her mouth. "I did it again." Her eyes grew large pleading for forgiveness. "I'm sorry. I have a bad habit of speaking what's on my mind before thinking. I did not mean to offend you."

  She looked as if she was about to cry.

  "No offense taken," Jarrett replied as he sat back. His batting coach had been on him about the same thing. That first pitch was a curse to him and he knew it. His eyes watched her fidget as if she was trying to determine if she should continue to talk or not. The truth of the matter was he liked hearing her voice. "I've heard it before, just not as nicely."

  Paige stared into his eyes before she spoke. Tilting her head to the side she asked, "May I ask you a question?"

  He wondered if he could stop her. Smiling inwardly, he said, "Sure."

  "If the Knights only paid you one dollar, would you love the game any less?"

  Without hesitation he replied, "No."

  "Well, there you go."

  CHAPTER TWO

  The moment Jarrett stepped out of the sedan he was greeted by his agent and friend, Nicolas Brooks and was escorted from the garage of the downtown office building into a private elevator.

  "How was your flight?" Nick asked as he extended his hand.

  "Interesting." Jarrett smiled.

  Nick gave him a suspicious look. The pleasant mood was not what he expected. Jarrett was a pretty nice guy, but he was sure the email he’d forwarded from the Brooklyn Knights’ front office would have generated a different response.

  The men walked through the lobby to stares from men and women. One or two asked for autographs before Nick guided Jarrett into another the private elevator.

  As the doors closed, Nick turned to Jarrett. "I appreciate you making this trip. The last email indicated the negotiations are on hold. We have a few ways to bring them back to the table. Later, we really need you to sit down with Jason Whitfield. He's a new acquisition for Pendleton - Brooks. He's young, arrogant and prone to hanging with the wrong crowd."

  "Sounds about right for a nineteen year old who just signed a multimillion dollar contract." Jarrett smirked. "What can I do to help?"

  "Calm his ass down," Nick replied.

  Jarrett laughed, "What makes you think I can do that? I don't even know the kid."

  "He's a fan," Nick stated just as the elevator doors opened, "a huge fan of yours."

  "Hello, Stacy." Jarrett smiled at the receptionist just as they stepped off the elevator. "I see they kept the prettiest woman at the front door."

  "Flattery will get you everywhere with me, Jarrett. May I take your coat?"

  "Will you stop flirting with the women in my office?" Nick grinned.

  "Yes, when you get some that are not so easy on the eyes. Hello, Vicki. You're still looking good." Jarrett kissed the woman on her cheek.

  "I know." She winked. "You look better."

  As they reached Nick's office, Jarrett walked around the big oak desk in front of the door and picked up the woman standing behind it, gave her a huge bear hug, then kissed her on the cheek.

  "Hello, Mrs. Holmes." He sat the woman back down on her feet. "Did you get that divorce yet?"

  The fifty-two year old sleek looking grandmother laughed. "You can't handle me, Jarrett. I thought we established that at the Carlyle."

  Nick shook his head. "I don't even want to know what that was about."

  As they walked into the office, the interior was a depiction of the success of the agency and the taste of the occupant. Across the room, a large, tinted glass and chrome desk sat, diagonally, in front of a room of windows. A large glass conference table with eight chairs was to the right of the room and was the place where several high dollar contract negotiations took place. To the left was the relaxation area, which included a bar, and entertainment center flush against the wall. A large flat screen television in the center of the entertainment area, a sofa that looked as if it could seat eight, and four lounge chairs that surrounded an oval shaped glass table, completed the office.

  "Have a seat." Nick pointed to the sofa as he walked over to the bar, pulling out two bottles of water, flipping one to Jarrett as he took a seat in a lounge chair. "Sorry about the commercial flight."

  Jarrett stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankles. "I rather enjoyed it." He grinned. Nick looked at him sideways, as Jarrett changed the subject. "What's the kid's story?"

  "Oldest child to parents of three, with the weight of their future on his shoulders," Nick summarized. "Too much pressure for a young man just starting out."

  "Family depending on him to lift them up," Jarrett stated more than asked.

  Nick nodded. "This kid has one of the sweetest three-point shots I've ever seen, from any position on the court."

  "I've seen him play." Jarrett sat the now empty bottle on the table. "So what's the issue?"

  Nick sat up as he spoke. "His posse of twenty."

  Jarrett began laughing.

  "I'm serious. The Ruler speaks for him, Jason only speaks when necessary. Red walks in front of him to clear his path, and De-lite tests his food before he eats."

  Laughing harder, Jarrett asked, "Which one wipes his butt?"

  "I believe that would be Lil T," Nick laughed. "He gets all the dirty jobs."

  Jarrett laughed more.

  "I'm serious man." Nick had to chuckle. "My partner turned this kid over to me. I have to get Jason under control or we are going to lose him. The media is already following him around predicting he will have a gun charge or something before he sets foot on the hardwood."

  A knock sounded at the office door.

  "Mr. Brooks." Mrs. Holmes entered the room. "It seems Mr. Whitfield did not arrive on the plane."

  Nick turned in the seat he
was occupying to look at his secretary. "What do you mean, he wasn't on the plane."

  "Well, it seems he sent his posse ahead of him."

  Before she could explain further, the man known as The Ruler stepped inside the office dressed in what Nick knew to be a three-thousand dollar suit, that he was sure came from Jason's bonus check.

  "Man, you need to get a bigger plane if you are going to handle Jason’s affairs. We roll twenty deep. It will take three trips to get all of us here using an eight seater jet."

  Nick stood, not believing what he’d just heard. "Where is Jason?"

  "He sent us first, said for you to send the jet back for the rest of them."

  Nick looked from The Ruler to Jarrett. It was clear the man he had called a friend for a few years, was doing his best not to laugh. Turning back to The Ruler he spoke. "Mrs. Holmes, would you please show The Ruler," his voice dipped, "and his associates to the conference room. I'll be with you in a moment."

  "A’ight, man, but we don't have all day. We supposed to go clubbing tonight."

  "I'll keep that in mind," Nick said as he and Mrs. Holmes shared a look while she closed the office door.

  He just couldn't hold it any longer. Jarrett threw his head back roaring in laughter. Nick just stood there with his hands on his hips shaking his head.

  "Don't laugh. You want to give me some advice here? You see what I'm dealing with."

  Jarrett sat forward and just shook his head. "Whew. I'm sorry, man, but you know that was funny as hell."

  Nick just looked at his friend, then he had to let the exasperated laugh out. "This is what I've been trying to tell you. Man, you are the captain of your team. How would you handle something like this?"

  "Seriously?"

  "Yes, man, seriously, what would you do?"

  Jarrett sobered, then thought for a minute. "I would nip it. The posse would find a way to get home on their own. I would take the jet back to Jason's home, lay down the law and tell him to take it or leave it."

  "I can't leave the people stranded."

  "You didn't ask them to come; Jason did. It will be his dime to get them home."

  "He's going to be pissed."

  "Well, there you go." Jarrett stood and walked out of the room.

  Nick watched him leave, then yelled, "What in the hell is that supposed to mean?"

  * * * * *

  In Boston, General Manager Kurt Stack sat in his leather chair at the plush corporate offices of the Dragons, watching a practice film of the Knights with his team Manager Ben Stanley. Picking up the remote, he clicked the button turning the film off, then leaned back in his chair.

  Sensing the mood in the room, Ben spoke. "He's still swinging at the first pitch. That is going to go well with our pitching staff."

  "And what do you suggest for the other 600 times he comes up to bat?" Kurt dropped the remote on the desk resulting in a loud clunk.

  "He's just one man."

  "With a hell of a supporting cast." Kurt stood in a fit of disgust.

  "We have a damn good team this year, Kurt. Looks like we are going to be in the playoffs; hell at the rate we are going we could go all the way to the World Series in October."

  "Yes, we have a good team. The only problem is we are number two behind the Knights. Looks to me, the Knights have a better chance than we do."

  "Only if Bryson remains healthy."

  Kurt turned with a pointed stare. "You just hit the nail on the head. If Bryson goes down, his supporting cast will wither away just like the triple A team they are." He walked over and sat in the chair across from Ben. "The organization’s survival depends on this season. Between the players’ contracts and overhead, we are seriously over extended. We need a winning season."

  "We are going to be in the post-season, Kurt. I’ll bet my job on it."

  "That's exactly what’s on the line here, Ben, your job and mine. We need to make the World Series. Nothing less will do." He stood and towered over Ben. "Harding needed a winning season and took steps to ensure it happened."

  Ben frowned up at Kurt. "Harding? Are you freaking kidding me? You're talking about ruining the career of a hero in this game. You don't mean that Kurt."

  "Kerrigan came back," Kurt stated then walked away.

  Ben watched as he sat back behind his desk, picked up the remote control, pushed the button and continued to watch the footage.

  "The only thing standing in the way of the Dragons making it to the World Series is the Knights. The heart of the Knights is Jarrett Bryson. Cut out the heart and the Knights will fall."

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Welcome home Ms. Paige." Leona Carter, the caretaker of the Cartwright family spoke. "It's good to have you home, child," she said as she took Paige’s overnight bag and purse.

  "Thank you, Leona." Paige kissed the elderly woman on her cheek as she talked. "How's Mr. Carter and the grandchildren? Is Ellen engaged yet? What about Jacob, how is he?"

  "Child, slow down. Your mouth is going a mile a minute." Leona laughed as she followed Paige to the kitchen. "You have to give this old lady time to catch up with you."

  Paige laughed as she entered the kitchen. She flopped down on a seat at the granite breakfast bar that seated at least six.

  "Where's Mother? Is Dad at work?"

  "Where do you want me to start with your hundred questions a minute?"

  "Sorry, Leona. How are you?"

  "I'm doing just fine. Now, how are you and what are you doing home? We didn't expect to see you until the holidays."

  "I know, but Grand’Mere called and insisted I come this morning. I think I know why. I met this man on the way home and I'm sure he's the reason she wanted me on that plane. You know how she is with her dreams. In this case, I think she may have bitten off more than she or I can chew. This man has a wonderful aura around him." She hesitated, placing her hands on her hips as if in thought. "I also sensed a little sadness. I'll have to find a way to fix that, you know."

  "No honey, but then again, I never know what you are talking about. Only your Grand’Mere can decipher your ramblings when you get like this."

  "Paige!"

  "Mother!" Paige jumped up from her seat, ran into the foyer and straight into her mother's open arms.

  Hugging her daughter, Eleanor Cartwright, beamed.

  "Let me look at you." She held her at arms’ length. "You are still the prettiest little girl in the world." She pulled her back into a big hug. "I've missed you so much. What are you doing home? I was so surprised when Leona called to say you were on your way from the airport." She kissed her daughter's cheek.

  "I've missed you too. I have so much to tell you." The two walked arm in arm into the kitchen where they knew Leona would have two cups of hot tea waiting on the breakfast bar for them.

  Instead of mother and daughter, they sounded and looked like two girlfriends seeing each other for the first time in years. Actually, it had only been a few months and they talked every day. Leona shook her head, loving the burst of energy that naturally accompanied Paige whenever she walked through the door. It was the same as the day she was born.

  Horace and Eleanor Cartwright married the day after they graduated from law school. Most thought the marriage was doomed from the start, Eleanor being one of the well-off Hyltons and Horace being from a not so influential family. The speculation grew more after eight years of marriage and no children had been produced from the union. Everyone thought Ophelia S. Hylton was going to have the marriage annulled, but Horace stood up to her. Told her no one was taking Eleanor away from him, he didn't care how much money she had. That was a hot night, and the night Leona believes Paige was conceived. A little over nine months later, Eleanor was spending Christmas Eve with her mother, when she went into labor. She never made it to the hospital, for the bundle of joy popped out, right into her grandmother's arms at 12:01 am Christmas day. From that moment on, that child had been the apple of her Grand’Mere's eye.
Hence, the double celebration every Christmas morning. It was hard to say who loved the child more- Ophelia, Eleanor, Horace or Leona.

  Looking at the clock on the wall, Leona estimated it would be about fifteen minutes before Judge Cartwright would come running through the door. The front doors opened with a bang. Leona had miscalculated the time.

  "Paige." The deep voice rocked the house. "Paige."

  "Darling." Eleanor walked from the kitchen with a questioning look on her face. "Why are you yelling for Paige?"

  "Leona said she was home," he said, a frown marring his face. "She's not home?"

  Paige came up from behind, threw her arms around her father's neck and jumped on his back.

  "Hello Daddy," she said as she kissed him on his cheek.

  The six-four, two hundred twenty-five pound man turned with the most brilliant smile on his face.

  "Paige."

  He turned and swung his twenty-four year old daughter around as if she was still six years old with ponytails swinging. He wrapped her in a bear hug as his wife joined them.

  "Welcome home, sweetheart." He looked from his wife to his daughter. "I don't know who's the prettiest, my daughter or my wife."

  "Aww, you sweet talker you." Eleanor kissed her husband.

  "She said yes years ago, Daddy. You don't have to sweet talk her anymore."

  The three walked into the kitchen arm in arm.

  "Yes, Sweet-pea, I do, if I want to keep her." He looked at Leona. "Is she here yet?" Horace asked as they all sat down at the bar.

  "No." Eleanor tapped her husband on the shoulder. "Behave. Mother is the reason your daughter is home. Be thankful," she said as she walked behind the bar and over to the stove to help Leona with lunch.

  "Daddy, why do you give Grand’Mere such a hard time? I swear you two act like ex-lovers or something."

  "Ha, your grandfather was the only man who would have her," Horace replied. "She can't be called grandmother, like anyone else. Nooooo, she has to be the Grand’Mere. Just like those old mares she has in her barn."