Chapter 21
Twenty-One
Pen
The luxury box suite is like a mini apartment with a wall view of the stadium.
Rectangular in shape, there’s a private full bathroom—according to Jan—at the back and then an intimate living room area with a long tan suede sofa, matching armchairs placed in conversation groups.
Deco-style table lamps with cream-colored shades give the space a warm glow.
Flat screens hang on each wall so that one might watch the game from there—although I have no idea why someone would come to a game and watch it from a TV.
In the middle of the space is a wood-paneled section dedicated to a kitchenette and long granite-topped bar. Here, one can help themselves to food, or eat at the island, and still see the action.
But the money section is definitely the theater-style rows of plush leather seats that face the field. A high-top bar runs along the back of the seats for eating and drinking as well.
In short, every comfort for the ultimate viewing experience has been thought of.
I’m more than a little awed. It’s relatively empty at the moment, with a few staff checking on the buffet and manning the drinks bar, but I spot June and May immediately.
As soon as they see me, they hustle over with wide eyes.
“Oh, my fucking God,” May whispers, clutching my hand like a vise. “You will never—”
The soft, muffled woosh of a toilet flushing has her biting her lip.
“What is it?” I whisper back.
June shakes her head as if to forestall the conversation. And just in time. The bathroom door opens, and a woman walks out. A swoop of shock has me shooting quick looks at my friends. I know they’re mentally nodding along as if to say, I know!
It isn’t every day Monica Reyes, Oscar winner and massive star, walks out of a bathroom and into a luxury stadium suite. Or maybe it is. I’m way out of my depth there.
She spots us almost as quickly as we’d spotted her. She falters only a tiny bit, but she puts on a wide smile and strolls forward. “August’s siblings I recognized immediately by their eyes, which means you must be the fiancée, Penelope?”
On-screen, she shines—light brown skin, a tumble of glossy black hair, full lips and symmetrical features that can play good or evil with equal conviction.
In person, she’s just as stunning, but more real.
There’s a constellation of tiny freckles by her temple.
Laugh lines fan the corners of her eyes.
She’s wearing jeans and a team jersey with the number 87.
It helps, but I’m still starstruck.
“Pen,” I offer, holding out a hand that’s shaking a tinge. “I desperately want to play this cool and act unfazed and continental here, but I know I’d only end up failing spectacularly at that. So I’ll get it out now. I’m a huge fan and kind of want to pee my pants.”
While June and May utter half-hidden groans of despair, Monica laughs. It’s a low and easy rolling sound as she shakes my hand and appraises me with smiling eyes.
“Honesty is always best. Please don’t pee yourself. We’ve got a good bathroom here.”
“I’d never live it down, so I’ll control that.”
She grins wider, red lipstick against snow-white teeth. “We’re cool. As long as you don’t stare at me the whole time and drool.”
“I can absolutely guarantee I don’t drool, outside of sleep.”
“And the staring?”
“I’m sure that will fade.”
With another laugh, she gives me a friendly pat on the arm. “I can see why the boys like you. Trent’s my man,” she adds in exclamation.
Only then do I remember that her boyfriend was one of the guys who had helped move my things. “Jelly—Trent was very kind to help. I hope I can repay him in some way soon.”
“He told me you made them all dinner.” Her hazel eyes dance. “I think that makes you even in his book.”
“Eh. The guys all helped. And it was nothing, really. I have enough Italian in me to feel bereft at missing the chance to feed someone who enters my house.”
“I’m Hispanic, but it’s the same for me,” she says warmly.
The door opens and, from that point on, guests pour in. It shouldn’t be a surprise that they include more actors, pop stars, rappers, and various athletes from other sports—the seven footer I know plays for the Lakers—but I find myself drifting close to the wall and just taking it in.
Although they’d squeed over Monica, May and June have been in this life long enough to be far more comfortable with the fame-filled room. They make their way around, talking to whomever about whatever.
“Sometimes, we Lucks tend to forget you don’t like mingling,” Jan says, suddenly at my side. His size and presence acts as a protective wall between me and the room.
“But I do like watching.”
“This isn’t so different from what you grew up with.”
“Jan.” I shake my head, smiling wryly. “I grew up in the audience, or waiting at home for my parents to return. Not all this.”
He searches my face and gives me a look of reassurance. “At the end of the day, they’re just people underneath the gloss.”
“Oh, I know.”
I don’t fool him. He inclines his head my way, keeping his voice low. “And yet you look like you’re two seconds away from bolting.”
I huff out a breath. “I’m fine. I just . . . Sometimes I forget that this is your world. August’s world.”
“Only a small part of it. August’s true world is down there.” He nods toward the stadium that’s slowly filling up. “And here, with us. Family and football. That’s what matters.”
The gentle admonishment, as though I should have known better, chafes. I take a long drink of the cocktail the bartender made for me. I have no idea what’s in it, only that it tastes fresh and fruity and is creamy blue. He’d called it the house specialty.
The base of the glass makes a light clink when I set it down on a nearby bar top. “You and I both know I won’t be here long enough to get used to it.”
Glacial blue eyes hold mine. “I have a feeling, Penny Lane, that you’ll be around for quite some time.”
“You know this isn’t real.”
“Do I?” Suddenly he grins, wide and bright. It reminds me so much of August, my breath catches. “Keep protesting, Pen. I’m a competitive guy and like the challenge.”
“Said just like a Luck,” I mutter darkly.
“Exactly.”
Jan offers his arm and, when I take it, leads me down to the plush seats.
A rapper whose name eludes me is talking to Monica.
But when he spots Jan heading their way, he jumps up to shake his hand.
It’s a neat trick how Jan manages to exchange friendly conversation while steering me into the very seat the guy vacated.
“It’s the best,” he says to me when I balk, before clapping the rapper on the shoulder and telling him to enjoy the game.
Caught between the seat and Jan’s bulk, I choose to sit. Monica gives me a sly look as she leans back, a massive tub of popcorn in her hands.
“Those Luck boys,” she says. “Smooth as cream and sweet as honey.”
“I was thinking more like steamrollers with smiles.”
“We’re both.” Jan plops down in the empty seat on my other side. Dark brows waggle once. “I have excellent hearing.”
“Then I won’t have to raise my voice when I tell you to bite me.”
A laugh bursts out of him.
“Attagirl,” he says, mussing my hair with his huge paw.
I swat him away but can’t help but smile. Charming is what they are. The whole lot of them.
Content, Jan surveys the field. He’s managed to procure a fresh beer without having to take a step. I swear the staff must pop up before he can even think to ask for something.
Monica, who’s been watching our interplay, appears entertained. “August mentioned that you all grew up together. It shows.”
Jan wraps a muscled arm around my shoulders and gives me an affectionate squeeze, much like a two-year-old would with his favorite woobie. “And now she’ll be our real-life sister.”
I swear I’m going to kill him. I expected this of March, but January? He’s supposed to be the reserved one. The elder statesman. Then again, he’s had it so rough this year, his good humor and sly teasing are to be celebrated. If I can keep him smiling, I will.
“I’m already composing my Christmas list,” I tell him. “Prepare your wallet.”
“Isn’t that August’s job?”
“Oh, he’ll get his. But as my new big brother, I’m owed years of back presents.”
Jan chuckles and drinks his beer.
“I’m glad you came,” Monica says. “It’s usually the same old boring crowd.”
“Thank you for inviting me.”
Monica does a double take. “The box is August’s.”
“He bought it?”
“Was tied into his contract as a benefit.” Jan takes a handful of offered popcorn. “I told him he’d come to appreciate it, given the size of our family.”
“It was a good idea,” Monica says. “Rhodes has one. It’s always filled to the brim with his people. Trent never bothered.” She turns my way. “He didn’t have me when he started, and he’s an orphan.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Football pulled him through and was his ticket out.” Setting the popcorn tub down, she wipes her fingers with a napkin.
“I was looking to purchase a box, but there wasn’t any to be had—our boys are a hot ticket now.
So August offered co-ownership of his. Trent insists he’ll be the one to buy in.
Said it was his games I had to go see—that’s some hardship—and so he’s the one to spend the money. ”
“And you let him have his way,” I say knowingly.
Crimson lips curl in a small smile. “Choose your battles, you know?”
Jan takes a pull on his beer and then huffs a laugh. “You women scare me, the way you effortlessly manage us.”
“Take notes, Big Boy,” Monica says. “Compromise goes both ways. You’ll be a lot happier once you figure that out.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
It occurs to me that Jan and his fiancée broke up soon after their accident, and that he might be a little salty about women and relationships at the moment.
“Anyway,” Monica drawls with a gleam in her eye. “Now that you’re here, Pen, we can go about decorating it a little more to our tastes and choosing menus together.”