Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Hallie
O ur limo glides to a stop in front of the Fairmont in downtown Pittsburgh. Dark green carpet lines the sidewalk in front of the hotel, with press on either side of the entrance behind ropes and crowds of people lining the carpet.
“Our Jeremy doesn’t do anything halfway when it comes to his baby,” says Molly, snapping closed the compact she was using to check her makeup and sliding it into her gold clutch.
I have been coming to Jeremy’s Kids Play annual gala since the very first one back when we were in college. Since Jeremy started the foundation right after he left the league, it was already up and running by the time he met Ben. He played for Pittsburgh’s NHL team before his injury and fell so hard for our city that you would think he is a native. After his injury, he never left. He attended the University of Pittsburgh and started the foundation right here. Even with the crowds and the athletes and the razzle dazzle that Jeremy delivers, the gala feels warm and friendly. The food and music are outstanding, and it is one of my favorite nights of the year.
“This is so not my scene,” mumbles Emma as the driver opens the door for us and we exit the car into mayhem. “I don’t know why you guys make me come every year when I would be just as happy to stay home and finish packing and let you tell me all about it at brunch tomorrow morning.”
Tomorrow we leave for our annual summer vacation at the Parkers’ lake house, so the four of us are meeting for brunch in the morning before we drive to the lake.
Julie links her arm through Emma’s.
“Because, my dear friend, we all must be equally hung over for our road trip to Maryland.” Julie ticks off all the rest of the reasons on her fingers one by one like a teacher giving her class instructions. “Also, you like Jeremy, we can’t take our annual ‘we’re all dressed up and fancy’ picture without you, and this year we are networking too. Go forth and find those clients, besties.”
“Of course I like Jeremy; we all like Jeremy.”
“Not like you do,” Julie and I say simultaneously.
“Jesus, Jules, do you ever just turn off work mode?” Molly grumbles.
“You should know her better than that, Mol,” I say in a voice that makes me sound cheerier than I feel on the inside. The idea of networking for a firm I’m not even sure I want to be a part of sounds exhausting, and the thong that my clingy dress requires digs into my hips in a way that makes me want to tear it off and go without underwear for the night. “Jules never gives it a rest. There is always an opportunity for networking, and none so much as tonight, in a room full of the wealthiest and most well-known athletes in the country, a lot of whom have probably never even considered the words estate planning, much less tried to do some of their own.”
“Fucking right,” says Jules, pointing at me. “Now, picture please.” The picture is our annual tradition. The first year the four of us came to the gala together during the summer after our first year of law school, we took a picture together on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. It was our first picture all together, and we have taken one together before the gala ever since.
“Excuse me, can you take our picture?” Julie flags down a man who turns out to be Asher Hansley, veteran quarterback of Pittsburgh’s NFL team. He is at least six-two and gorgeous in that boy-next-door, purposefully disheveled light brown hair, sparkling blue eyes, bright smile, and blinding white teeth kind of way. That’s just the way it is at this event. Athletes everywhere. For a second, he stands frozen, a half-smile on his face as he stares at Julie. But then he seems to snap out of it, and I snicker when he grabs the phone and motions us together. Julie’s regular sized iPhone looks like a Barbie accessory in this guy’s giant hands. We all put our arms around each other and lean in close. God, I love these women, and this night.
“You ladies look stunning,” he says as he snaps a bunch of pictures and then hands the phone back to Julie. “Enjoy the party. Save me a dance, blondie.” His gaze locks on Julie, who immediately flushes in a very un-Julie-like way. Then he flashes us a wink and swaggers towards the entrance. I turn to see Julie still staring at what is, admittedly, a superior ass, as Asher makes his way down the carpet, flashing his smile at reporters and fellow carpet-walkers. It’s so satisfying that even cool as a cucumber Julie Parker is not immune to the dazzle of the professional athlete.
“Jules, get your eyes off that man’s ass.” Her head snaps up. Her face is still red, and she is wearing a sheepish smile.
“But it’s such a nice ass. Probably looks even nicer in black football pants.”
“Yeah, it would,” says Molly with a cunning smile that tells me she is also appreciating the exceedingly rare reminder that our very perfect Jules still lives among us common folks.
“That’s reason enough to catch a game this season. I bet Jeremy can get us tickets,” says Emma.
“I just bet he could. Maybe you should ask him,” I say to Emma with a sly smile, refraining from reminding her that Parker, Inc. owns fifteen seats at every game and we can literally always use those tickets if we want to.
She immediately looks away. I will make her admit she has a thing for Jeremy or die trying.
“Anyway, time for mayhem, girls,” I say, linking arms with Emma, who needs an extra shot of courage to get through the doors every year. “Let’s get in there.”