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Christ.
Do I really need to be privy to this shit?
“I, uh, have to go make the rounds,” I say, and I bolt the fuck out of there before they get the chance to hold me back any further.
I glance around and spot Sam, who’s now talking to Austin Graham, and I can’t help but think two things.
One, she’s a much better fit for him than my girl, though admittedly she’s still a bit older than him.
And two, what the fuck is it with this kid hitting on every woman in my life?
I suppose I have to play the jealous card again, even though I could not care less that he’s talking to her. I’m stopped several times in my pursuit of my date, and at one point, I see Jolene as she hugs the one and only Joseph Bailey.
I haven’t seen the man in person in nearly twenty years, but he looks much the same—a few pounds heavier, maybe, and a bit older, but he’s still built like a house and he looks like he could kick my ass even though I’ve got more muscle on me. Beside him is her more petite mother, with whom Jolene shares many of her features—the blonde hair, the petite frame, the straight nose.
The Baileys and the Nashes are in the same room tonight, and the thought pulses more than a little bit of fear into my heart.
Cocktail hour is fine, but when it’s time to take our seats for dinner, I glance nervously around. Jolene is at a table with other members of the media. Her parents are seated on one side of the room while mine are on the other. My date and I are at a table with Jack, Steve, Mike, Andy, and their significant others.
I’ve shaken hands and played nice, and it would be even better if I could just get the fuck out of here after dinner, but because I’m an honorary chair, I have to sit through all the speeches and auctions and shit, and toward the end of the night, I have to get up to say a few words myself.
I wrote a speech, but I’m not really feeling it.
I want to say something important. Something my dad can hear but also something her dad can hear.
I just have no idea what it is.
“Linc?” Sam’s voice beside me breaks into my thoughts.
“What?”
“Kate asked how we met.” She looks pointedly at me.
“Oh, sorry. I was, uh, just thinking about my speech later.” It’s the truth, anyway. I glance over at Jack’s wife. “We met at the Gridiron one night. She was there with that reporter.”
“Oh, I love that place,” Kate says. “I don’t get out there enough with the kids at home, but they have the best brisket.”
I force myself to participate in the conversation here at the table, and after dinner, I head back toward the bar, where I find Troy Bodine with his wife.
“Hey, Nash,” he says. “I never heard from you about that dinner.”
“Right, I’m so sorry about that. You know how it is when you’re assembling the team in the off-season. How does next week look? We’re between camps and I might be able to fit something in.”
“We play in Los Angeles Sunday and Monday, but I’ll be back Tuesday. Let’s make it happen,” he says.
I nod as he and his wife walk away, and I grab myself another whiskey and a glass of wine for Sam.
The silent auction starts, and we’re all still in our chairs where we sat for dinner. I’m not planning to bid on anything, so I didn’t even bother to look at the items up for auction. I take my seat beside my date, and we all look up toward the stage.
“Our first item is the Gentleman’s Gift Basket,” the auctioneer begins. “A bottle of fine scotch, a selection of premium cigars, a signed jersey from Jack Dalton, and a leatherbound journal make up this extravagant set for the discerning gentleman. The opening bid is one thousand dollars.”
I watch as paddles go up into the air, driving the price up to three thousand fairly quickly.
“Five thousand,” a voice yells, and I look over to see Joseph Bailey with his paddle in the air.
“Six thousand,” another voice yells—and this voice is a bit more familiar since it belongs to my father, seated on the opposite side of the room.
Oh fuck.
