Burning Bridges

"Here are the sales figures for the first few days." Kelsey handed Nolan the report.

He scanned it. Rachel had sold only a few hundred copies, and she was the best of them. Belinda came next, then Kristen and Lacey. McKenna had not reached a hundred. Two squad members had sold none at all. Together, they had moved fewer than a thousand books, nowhere near enough to cover production.

Opening week was supposed to be the strongest. At this rate, twenty thousand copies in a year would be a lucky result, a tenth of what the DCC calendar could sell. Nolan had expected a modest start, but not this.

"Those are only our direct numbers," Kelsey said. "Playboy might sell tens of thousands through its own channels. People still buy books in stores more often than online." The publisher had access to bookstores, convenience stores, and newsstands that the Angels did not.

"Those shops will carry the books alongside everything else. The people who came specifically for our squad would have ordered from us." Nolan shook his head. The Angels' first attempt to sell individual cheerleader books had fallen flat.

After Kelsey left, Christie Hefner called. Hugh's daughter had been involved in running Playboy for years; she had contacted Nolan herself about the photo books.

"Our printer is holding thirty thousand unsold copies," she said. "The balance is due, and storage fees are mounting."

"I thought we had ninety days. Have you decided I won't pay?"

"The ninety-day terms depended on the first week's sales meeting expectations." Her voice was cool.

'So that's how she wants to play this.' Nolan had expected a partner, not a demand to absorb the risk alone as soon as sales disappointed. In his view, Playboy had been struggling to adapt as its old print advantage eroded. Christie had tried television, video, and other outlets, but none had solved that problem. The Angels partnership was another attempt to reach a new audience, especially as Sports Illustrated drew attention with its swimsuit issue.

"We're a new club," Nolan said. "The Rose Bowl is leased, and ticket revenue doesn't arrive the day we play. Cash flow takes some juggling."

"That is your problem, not mine."

"Then the ninety days we agreed to are your problem. I won't pay a day early."

"The contract is in writing," Christie said through clenched teeth.

"Take the contract to a Los Angeles County judge, then. Six months? A year? I can drag this out until the last possible day."

"We gave you space in the magazine when you were just becoming famous. Is this how you repay us?"

"You got interviews and sales out of me. It was business both ways. Sports Illustrated would be glad to talk to me again."

"Shameless." Christie ended the call.

The Angels' next game took them north to Candlestick Park and the San Francisco 49ers.

Steve Young was out after a serious concussion, leaving Jeff Garcia and Steve Stenstrom to handle the quarterback job. Garcia had come from the CFL, where he had helped Calgary win the Grey Cup. Stenstrom, the former Stanford quarterback, had also seen NFL action. Nolan's old acquaintance Pat Barnes was still with the 49ers but remained a reserve without a meaningful role on game day.

For the first time at an away game, Nolan spotted pockets of Angels white in the stands. Los Angeles fans had made the trip north.

Garcia gave the Angels' defense trouble early. San Francisco had its own problem with the jet screen. As Nolan and his receivers sharpened their timing, Andy added variations: a throw to the halfback or fullback, a release by the tight end, and routes that still left a wideout available. Nolan and Edgerrin James ran only a handful of times, usually to convert a third down or change the rhythm.

The offense was shifting from its old run-pass balance toward the pass. The Rams' success had given Andy ideas, even if the Angels were using their own version of them.

Los Angeles got through the game with a win, though San Francisco made them work for it.

The regular season had reached its second half. Around the same time, the Rams finally lost: Tennessee held off their comeback, 24-21. The Titans had built a first-half lead after Warner turnovers gave them short fields, and the Rams' line had an unusually rough day. The deficit proved too much even for St. Louis.

Back in the locker room, Nolan and his teammates watched the finish on a television. "The Rams beat themselves as much as Tennessee beat them," he said.

"Warner hasn't been as steady as you," Edgerrin James said beside him.

Another player agreed with suspicious enthusiasm. Nolan knew when his teammates were trying to flatter him. Still, he had thrown well against San Francisco and given them a reason to celebrate.

"Nolan, somebody's here for you," a teammate called from the doorway. "He's wearing a 49ers jersey."

Nolan recognized Pat Barnes and went over. They slapped hands. "How've you been?" he asked.

"Same as ever," Pat said with a grin.

Nolan had hoped to catch up, but the Angels needed to get home; something extra was planned for their next game. Pat lingered instead of letting him go. The hesitant look on his face told Nolan he wanted more than a conversation.

"You own part of a team now," Pat said with an awkward smile. "That changes things."

The pitch made Nolan uneasy. He remembered a confident young quarterback; the man in front of him had a wife, a child, a modest reserve salary, and very little job security.

"I heard the Angels carry only two quarterbacks. Could you sign me next season? Nolan, I can't afford to be out of work."

A third-string contract would be inexpensive, and the Angels had already learned how quickly two quarterbacks could be hurt. "Yes," Nolan said. "We'll make room for you. It should be simple."

"You could've called me about this."

"I thought you were too busy." Pat looked embarrassed. Neither of them could have imagined, at their old all-star game, that the little-known teammate would become an NFL star and a club owner.

Nolan flew home and found chaos in the Angels' rehearsal room. "This is harder than a runway," nineteen-year-old Gisele complained. Kelsey had put her, Adriana, and Alessandra near the center of the new formation so their height would look deliberate. Their steps were still stiff, but they had a week before the Titans game. Izabel was visiting with her guardian's and agency's approval; she would watch the rehearsal, not join the adult routine or photo campaign.

During a break, Gisele approached Nolan. "This is your club, isn't it? I haven't seen all of it. Will you show me around?"

"After rehearsal."

"I'm exhausted. Could we finish tomorrow? This is worse than a full day of fittings." She gave him a hopeful look.

Nolan glanced at Kelsey. When she didn't object, he agreed. He would show Gisele, Patricia, Adriana, and Alessandra around the facilities; Izabel could come along with her chaperone. The squad got an early finish too.

Rachel hurried past on her way to the changing room. Nolan let her go. Peter's discreet inquiry had uncovered the truth about the person she wanted to help. It was not her mother or her sister but a four-year-old girl with Rachel's surname. The child had a congenital heart condition and needed more than one operation. Rachel had given birth while she was in college, without telling Kelsey or Lacey.

Nolan did not know why she had kept the child private, and he was not going to expose her. Her faith, her family, or simply her circumstances might have shaped the choice. It was hers to explain, not his.

That evening he took the visitors past the practice field. A few employees recognized Gisele from her rising fashion career. Even so, Nolan was far better known to the people who worked here.

"Wait. Was Gisele Bündchen the model Nolan was seeing in London?" an employee asked after the group moved on.

"She's even more striking in person than on camera," another said.

"She carries herself differently," a third remarked.

"One walk down a runway could pay her more than you make in a year," his coworker said. The staff kept talking long after Nolan's group had gone.

The tour changed the visitors' view of Nolan. "Look at the space," Adriana said on the way back. "In Los Angeles, that can't be cheap." Alessandra had read about NFL ownership and the salaries of players and coaches. Izabel listened, wide-eyed. The three had known him as an athlete and agency backer; the size of the operation made him seem like something else entirely.

They were mistaken about one thing. The facilities stood well outside the glamorous center of Los Angeles, and much of the club's capital had come from other investors. Nolan was no secret heir, however rich they imagined him to be.

"Sarah Douglas has talked to you too, hasn't she?" Alessandra asked. The others knew what she meant. Their contracts were due to expire the following year, and Sarah had been trying to draw them to her own agency. She had not managed to persuade Gisele.

Sarah knew the business and lived on their side of the Atlantic. Her offer had been tempting. After seeing the Angels' operation, though, the adult models had more to weigh.

"Nolan's been good to us," Adriana said. "I don't want to walk out on him."

"That's not what you said before," Alessandra teased. "You told me football was all he knew."

"You've spent enough time with Sarah yourself. You've told her things about our boss, haven't you?"

"I'm looking after my career," Alessandra said. "This business moves fast." Adriana could not argue. Nolan had helped launch Alessandra and had worked through Adriana's contract trouble, but gratitude did not erase their professional choices.

They noticed Izabel had gone quiet. "You trust Nolan a lot, don't you?" one of them asked. "He helped me when I needed it," Izabel said, looking down. She had been fourteen when they first met and was still a minor now; the adults kept the conversation on her work and her family.

She had not spent much time with him, but his help in bringing her from Brazil had mattered to her. Alessandra and Adriana exchanged a glance. Several weeks in Los Angeles could change the agency's balance, and they would have to decide where their own contracts belonged.