Miracles and Mischief by Mary Manners Page A

Nate’s ears as his pressure rose. “Can they do that?”
    “You broke their image clause, Nate. They can do whatever they want.”
    “I should call them and explain.” Nate reached into his pocket for his cell phone. “Once I tell them how it really went down—”
    “No!” Stan lunged across the desk, toppling his foam coffee cup. Muddy brew splattered file folders. “Give me your phone.”
    “But I can make them understand.”
    “Understand what, Nate?” Stan grabbed Nate’s cell phone. “That the star running back for the Tennessee Titans had a meltdown after an embarrassing playoff loss and managed to get himself arrested?”
    “I didn’t have a meltdown. I told you, I was—”
    “Tell it to the judge, Nate.” Stan removed the battery from the phone and slipped it into one pants pocket. The case went into his other. Then he reached for a tissue and began to mop up the spill. “Take a breath before you dig a deeper hole.”
    “It can’t get any deeper.”
    “Oh, I assure you it can.” Stan lobbed the soiled tissue into the trash can.
    “So, what am I supposed to do?”
    “We did get a third phone call…one you might want to consider.”
    “Tell me more.”
    “Have you ever heard of a foundation called Moments for Miracles?”
    “Nope.”
    “Well, they’re interested in you.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “They grant wishes to critically ill children.”
    Nate sat back in the chair, resting his hands across his knotted belly. “You mean, kids who are going to die?”
    “Some of them—most of them—will.” Stan nodded. “But the rest…”
    “I don’t think I can handle that.”
    “You don’t have a choice, Nate. You need damage control, and this is just what the doctor ordered—no pun intended.” Stan shook his head. “Besides, doing this might lead to a breakthrough of some sort for you, which can only be a good thing. If you don’t let go of the past, it’s eventually going to consume you.”
    “You know what I’ve been through, Stan, as far as that goes. This whole mess…well, you know where it started.”
    “That’s my whole point, Nate.” He picked up the pen and twirled it in his fingers. “Yes, I know. I was there, remember?”
    “Then, you should know better than anyone that I just can’t do what you’re asking.”
    “Yes, you can do it.” Stan tossed the newspaper into Nate’s lap. “Go home, Nate, and keep your nose clean. I’ll contact the director of Moments for Miracles, pull some strings, and orchestrate a measure of damage control.”
    “I can fight this battle without your meddling.”
    “No, you can’t. You’re in too deep, Nate. Trust me on this.”
    Nate tossed the newspaper back onto the desk and raked a hand through his hair. Could he trust Stan? The two had been friends for years before entering into an agent-athlete partnership. Nate’s gut roiled as the ESPN ticker tape continued to flash news of the previous night’s escapades. From the look of things, he didn’t have much of a choice. Right now, Stan was his lifeline. “OK, I’ll let you deal with it.”
    “Good. That’s why you pay me the big bucks.” Stan slipped the newspaper back into the file drawer. “Pack a bag, Nate, and head back to Mill’s Landing. Relax and enjoy some down time, now that the season is over. Just promise me you’ll stay out of trouble.”
    “I can manage that—if you keep the press away.”
    “I’ll do my best.” Stan nodded. “In the meantime, why don’t you catch up on a bit of reading?”
    “What type of reading?”
    “The type that will help screw your head back on straight.” Stan handed him a soft-cover book. “It’s a devotional. I have a copy of my own, and I’ve read it cover to cover. You should do the same.”
    The words stabbed Nate. He had been caught up in the season, but this run of bad luck with the press was the wake-up call he needed. Maybe. He slipped the book into his jeans pocket. “Thanks.”
    “I’ve got