The Running Series Complete Collection: 3-Book Set plus Bonus Novella (55 page)

“Listen, Evan, I’m not a therapist or anything.  I don’t even play one on TV  But I think everyone here tonight agrees with me when I say you shouldn’t blame yourself.  You were a hero that night,” Joey quickly counters.

“I don’t know about that hero thing, Joey.  There were signs.  Lots of them.  I missed them – every single one.  If I acted sooner, told the right people, did the right thing ... well, let’s just say things would have turned out very differently.”  Evan looks sad again and it makes my heart feel heavy with the burden he’s been carrying around with him all this time.  He still feels guilty.

“Man, if I could go back in time, I know there are a lot of things I would do differently, too.  I’d start by turning down that script to ‘Death to Sweetums’.  Worst decision of my life.  Hands down.”  The audience laughs just enough to know that the heaviness that hung in the air a moment ago from Evan’s heartfelt admission is beginning to lift.

Evan welcomes the change in conversation and agrees, “Yeah, but look at you now.  You’re doing alright for yourself.”  The audience politely applauds for Joey while he waves off the praise as undeserved.

“Well, you look great now, man.  Hey, everyone, doesn’t Big Mac look great?”  They wait while the audience claps in agreement before Joey follows up with another question.  “How’s your recovery going?  Are we going to see you take the field this season?” 

“Absolutely.  I’m looking forward to working with Matt Ortiz and learning from the best.  He’s brought the Sentinels to the playoffs five times in his career, and I can’t wait to become a part of that legacy.”  Evan sits up a little taller and crosses one leg across his knee.  Talking about football is something he really enjoys and it shows.

“That’s great to hear, Mac.  There were rumors flying that you wouldn’t be returning this season.  Any idea how those rumors got started?” Joey asks.

“I try not to listen to the rumor mill too much.  I’m no stranger to gossip, especially when it comes to my private life.  I prefer not to waste too much energy worrying about what other people are thinking.  The only person whose opinion matters to me right now is my girlfriend’s.”  Evan looks right over to me with a giant grin splashed across his face.  I can see my own happiness reflected in his eyes.  He winks at me, and I am lost in his spell.

“Speaking of Juliette, I understand you’ve started a business together.  Don’t you two have a bar that will be opening soon?” Joey asks.

“We do.  It’s a dessert bar called ‘Rush’ right in the heart of Asbury Park.  It’s just a few blocks in from the ocean and not too far from some of the town’s well-known landmarks like the Stone Pony.  I promise you, Joey, if you come down to Jersey, we’ll show you a great time.  Juliette makes the best cheesecake you’ve ever tasted in your life.  She’s really amazing.”

“Sounds great.  I’d love to come down and check the place out.  But I have to ask you for something in return.  You like a good competition, a healthy challenge, right?” Joey asks.

“You know I do, Joey.  Why?  What do you have in mind?” Evan replies.

“Well, last time you were here, we threw a few footballs around.  I thought this time we’d play a little drinking game.  Now that you’re a bar owner, we want to put you to the test with a little friendly game of Flip Cup.  What do you say?  Can you stick around a little longer?” Joey asks, already knowing the answer.

“I’d love to, Joey.”  The interview ends, and there’s a break for the commercial.  A flurry of activity begins as the staff hurries onto stage getting the game props all set up.  They position a camera to get an overhead shot of the game table.  We can watch on the large screen hanging on the wall beside the stage.

It’s a relief that Evan’s not going to be playing any physical challenges.  I know he’s in top shape, but his grip is still weak and he’s not supposed to be using his hand for anything other than normal activities.  His doctor hasn’t cleared him to play football yet, and I’m just glad he’s not going to try to throw or catch right now on national television.

Emmy’s phone goes off with a new text message while we’re waiting.  She giggles, and then furiously texts back.  “Emmy, was that a text from Adam?  What’s going on?” I ask her.

“It was.  He said that Evan’s going to kick Joey’s ass.  They’ve been practicing back stage while Evan was waiting,” she explains.

Just as I’m about to respond, I overhear the conversation taking place in the row directly behind me.  A group of young girls around my age is planning to rush out as soon as possible and head straight for the backstage entrance.  I hear one girl tell the others, “I am not leaving until I get his number.” 

They all start giggling, and one of her friends responds, “I bet you all that I can get him to take me home.  These boobs are the best investment I’ve ever made.  You’ll see.” 

The last straw is when I hear another reply, “He definitely deserves a good lay, and I’m just the girl to make sure he gets it.”

Emmy is still texting with Adam, oblivious to the discussion going on around us.  I fight every instinct I have to turn around and tell the girls that he’s going home with me tonight.  Instead, I focus my attention on the gorgeous man on stage as he walks with Joey towards the center stage.  They are laughing and joking together.  My imagination drifts to a day in the not too distant future when Evan and I play host and hostess to Joey and his wife when they come for dinner at Rush.  I wonder if he would really come down, or if those words were just spoken in kindness.  Time will tell.

Before long, the audience lights dim and the bands strikes up for a quick intro.  Joey and Evan walk over to the table and both men take off their suit jackets.  This is serious business.  As Evan removes his jacket, the crowd goes wild, hooting and whistling their appreciation for the sight of the man in front of them.  His broad shoulders are now clearly visible, contrasting beautifully with his trim waist.  His shirtsleeves are just tight enough to show off the muscles in his biceps. 

Joey explains the rules to everyone and the men shake hands.  Each man takes his place on opposite sides of the table.  After a count of three, the game begins.  Emmy and I watch and laugh, enjoying the show.  Evan throws back the first cup of beer, and then races against Joey to flip the cup up and over.  Evan is not kicking Joey’s ass as Adam had predicted.  He’s ahead, but not by much.  The two men continue to toss back beer after beer as they work their way down the table, each trying to be the first one to successfully flip six cups.  After both men struggle to get the fourth cup flipped, Evan finds his groove and flips the final two with hardly any effort.  We all stand and cheer for Evan as he walks over to Joey and shakes his hand in victory.  Even though it was just a silly game, I couldn’t be more proud of my boyfriend.  I fully intend to show him how impressed I am with his performance later tonight when we get home.

A
n hour later, as we leave the studio, Evan is bombarded by waiting fans, all trying to get his attention.  Evan signals for Adam to move Emmy and me away from the fans, giving him some space to work the crowd.  The further away we get, the more tightly surrounded Evan becomes by women smiling at him, batting their eyelashes, and sliding their hands up and down his arms and back.  Adam looks over at me, my smile now replaced by scowl.  “Jette, don’t let this stuff get to you.  You know he has to do this – it’s part of his job.”

“I know, Adam.  You’re right.  But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.  And it definitely doesn’t mean I have to watch.”  I’m no stranger to flirting with customers.  As a bartender it was part of my job, too.  But I never did it in front of Evan, subjecting him to the unwanted feelings of jealousy and pain.  My stomach is twisted into knots, and I can feel my temperature rising as strange women fawn all over my boyfriend.

I try my best to ignore them, but curiosity keeps me peeking over my shoulder, needing to make sure that Evan is keeping his boundaries firm.  My mouth drops when I see him wrap his arms around two young women while a third snaps a picture with her cell phone, then quickly changing places to get her own picture taken.  Without warning, the unthinkable happens – just as the picture is snapped, she plants a kiss on his cheek.  Evan laughs it off, but I’m burning with anger.

Emmy tries to distract me with small talk, but I don’t hear a word she’s saying.  My attention is completely focused on Evan as I see one woman, a long-legged blonde, pulling down her top and exposing abundant cleavage bursting from her lace bra, while handing Evan a Sharpie marker.  She actually wants him to sign her boobs.  Adam takes one look at my reaction and immediately jumps into action.  “Stay right here.  I’m ending this.  Now.”  He makes a beeline directly towards Evan with a look of determination on his face.

Adam is great.  He takes complete control of the situation, making apologies to the crowd, and whisking Evan away from the fray.  In no time at all, Emmy and I are joined by our men and off we go.  I do my best to put on a happy face, although Evan knows I’m not at all comfortable with what I just witnessed.  But he respects my feelings enough not to discount them.  Instead, he simply takes my hands in his and kisses me.  All worries are forgotten, and I find myself grinning once again.

The restaurant is only a few blocks away, so we decide to walk rather than grab a taxi.  The streets are fairly crowded today, thanks to the beautiful spring weather and the start of the Memorial Day weekend.  The sidewalks surrounding Rockefeller Center are filled with tourists and much to our delight, none of them stop us or make a scene.  Evan and I walk hand-in hand along the streets of Manhattan much like any other young couple. 

There’s really nothing that compares to walking the streets of midtown Manhattan.  I spent four years in Denver, and now it seems like a million miles away.  The downtown market in Denver is a lovely pedestrian promenade that is always clean, generally tranquil, and only occasionally exciting.  My favorite event is the yearly Zombie Crawl every October.  It’s the only time the streets are crowded with thousands and filled with the kind of energy that is a constant here in Manhattan.

As we walk, I notice Evan flexing his hand.  “Do you need more Tylenol?” I ask him.  He refuses to take any real painkillers, which I admire.  Unfortunately, he’s been popping Tylenol Extra Strength like it’s Pez.  He nods and I reach into my purse, pop two tablets from a bottle, and hand them to Evan along with my bottle of water.  I’m not comfortable with him taking so much acetaminophen, but I also don’t want to see him in pain.

As we turn a corner, there’s a street performance going on, drawing people in to watch.  Evan and I stop to enjoy the show.  Two young, fit men are putting on an acrobatics show and they are mesmerizing.  Adam and Emmy stop, too, but they are too wrapped up in each other to pay any attention to the show.  They’ve only been dating for a few weeks, and they seem to be blissfully happy.

Evan looks down at me with smoldering eyes and wraps his hands around my waist, pulling me close.  I reach up, draping my arms around his neck and find the hair at the nape of his neck.  I work my fingers through the strands while running my nails across his scalp.  Evan closes his eyes and releases a moan.  I love the sounds I can get him to make with the slightest touch.  He moves his hands down to my bottom and lifts me off me feet and onto my tiptoes.  Our lips meet for a soft sweet kiss.  When he squeezes my ass, I respond my opening up for him, allowing his tongue entry to explore and caress.  While Evan holds me in his arms, everything around us disappears, leaving us alone in our own world.  Evan has that effect on me.  He releases me and slowly the haze clears.  Emmy is staring at me waiting for an answer to a question I didn’t hear.

“I’m sorry, Emmy.  What was your question?” I ask, slightly flushed and totally contented.

“I asked if you two were ready for dinner.  I’m starving,” she repeats.

“Oh, yeah, food.  Lead the way.”  And off we go, walking arm-in-arm just a few more short blocks to West 53
^rd
Street.  By the time we reach the restaurant, it’s nearly eight o’clock and I’m famished.  Adam’s second prediction is wrong again.  Bobby Flay is not in his restaurant tonight.  But despite that setback, the four of us sit back and enjoy a great meal that doesn’t disappoint.

Made in the Shade