for you?”
Betsy was a docent at the San Antonio Museum of Fine Art three days a week, a responsibility she took very seriously.
“Sure is,” Betsy said. “What’s on your plate?”
“I need to buy another phone, for one thing.” Betsy was the only person she’d shared her problem with.”
“Oh, Tyler.” She heard the caring note in Betsy’s voice. “Are you still getting those damn calls? You ought to report it.”
“And say what?” she asked. “They’ll want to know who it could be and they don’t have enough time to hear all the names. I’ll get halfway through the list and they’ll tell me they’re sorry but my lifestyle just leaves me open to stuff like this. It’s my problem.”
“Surely not,” Betsy protested. “They’re the police. They have to help everyone, no matter what they think.”
Tyler gave a bitter laugh. “You keep right on thinking that, Betsy, if you want to. They like to write off people like you and me.”
“But your father has a lot of influence,” her friend said. “Get him on it.”
“Are you kidding? He’s the last person I want to tell. He already thinks I’m a wasted piece of trash.”
Betsy was silent for a long moment. “Maybe it’s time to bury the hatchet with him.”
Tyler snorted. “Oh, right. What kind of pills are you popping?”
“I’m just sayin’, you know? After all, you are his daughter.”
“He hasn’t cared about that all these years. He’s not going to start now.” She sighed. “No, I’ll figure this out myself. So, are you up for some shopping and lunch at Al Dente?”
Betsy laughed. “Two of my favorite activities.”
“Good. I’ll pick you up in an hour.”
Before she could climb back up the stairs, her doorbell rang. A deliveryman stood there holding a disgustingly atrocious display of flowers.
“Miss Gillette?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yes.”
“These are for you. Glad you’re home to receive them.”
Tyler stared at them. “Who are they from?” she demanded.
The driver juggled the flowers and checked his digital tablet. “All it says here is From the man who will always love you. Wow! He must really love you a lot. I know what they cost.”
Tyler stepped back into the hallway. “Please take them away. Right now.”
“But—”
“Away. Now.” She practically slammed the door in the poor man’s face. This had to be Nate. No amount of flowers or candy would gloss over the disaster that was her marriage.
She sat down on the stairs for a few minutes to pull herself together. This just had to stop. And she had to quit letting it bother her. But the phone calls and the flowers and the—
Get it together, girl. If you fall apart, he wins. Whoever he is.
Finally she pulled herself together and stiffened her spine. She’d go to lunch and ignore this. But maybe today she’d go without all the typical Tyler glitz. Maybe it was time for a change. Because she was tired of wasting her life, throwing it away and getting nothing for it. She knew who she really was on the inside. Maybe it was time to show the world on the outside.
Eventually she settled on a pair of unadorned skinny jeans—she hadn’t even known she had any—and a plain, pale green T-shirt with no embroidery or bedazzling on it. She didn’t even remember buying it. She unwound the towel from her head and picked up her blow-dryer to style her hair, then stopped, changed the setting and just dried it enough so she could skin it back into a ponytail.
She opened her makeup drawer, decided on just a brush of mascara and a swipe of lip gloss. She felt almost naked without the heavy mask of makeup she usually wore, but damn if she didn’t look a lot better. Younger, even. Well, well, well. Simple studs in her ears completed her outfit. Then she was ready to go.
When she picked up her cell, she looked at it for a long moment, sure she was about to make a stupid mistake.
Do not call Rafe. Do. Not. Call.
But it’s just to say thank you, she told herself.
Uh-huh.
Her finger hovered over the keypad and before she could change her mind, she punched in the number. By the time she hung up, she was almost sorry she’d called. What had she expected, that he would ask her out?
Oh, right! Dream on.
Time to head out.
When she picked up Betsy, her friend slid into the passenger seat of Tyler’s car and froze in place.
“What’s the matter?” Tyler asked. “Something wrong?”
Betsy just stared at her. “I didn’t recognize you. What’s the deal?”
“With what?” But Tyler was sure she knew what she meant.
“The clean-face look. You lose your makeup box?” Betsy continued to stare at her.
“Maybe I’m incognito. Fasten your seat belt.”
“I need a drink.” Betsy fastened the safety clasp of the belt. “I can’t stand the shock.”
“Okay,” Tyler grinned. “We’ll have iced tea with lunch.”
“Jesus, Tyler. What the hell is this all about?”
“Maybe it’s just about me,” Tyler said. “Maybe I just need a change.”
“Uh-huh. We’ll see.” Betsy chuckled. “We’ll just see.” She paused. “Although I have to say, you look a hell of a lot better.”
* * * *
The team headquarters was busy, probably because the Hawks had just returned from two weeks on the road. Rafe knew they hated playing back-to-back away games, much as he had before he retired. The National Football League, however, had its own method of scheduling and there wasn’t much to do except go along with it. At least they now allowed for jet lag when putting the calendar together. Rafe sometimes traveled with the team depending on the location. This time he’d chosen to stay home, clean up loose ends, and get ready for the first game after their return. He saved the open file on his computer and pulled up his digital calendar.
An important game was coming up Sunday, a highly competitive game with the Austin Mustangs. For the stadium security team this meant more drinking to monitor, more tailgate parties to keep an eye on, more everything. Only a few more days to prepare for the next onslaught of trouble. For the most part, football fans, as crazy as they were, behaved themselves. They respected
