42. Spencer
I spent my childhood attending Mardi Gras parades all over the New Orleans area, from Metairie to Slidell and even a few on the West Bank and out in Chalmette. But never once in my life have I had the privilege of riding on a float in one of them.
That is, until today.
Everyone is up at the crack of dawn, loading up Oli’s car with coolers and boxes, the last thing laid carefully on top are the garment bags for the ball tonight. We’ll be able to get ready in a special area of the convention center, which is better than trying to fight our way through traffic to get back to the house.
“We’ve got the water? The throws? The sunscreen?” Tori calls out, reading off her phone.
“It’s all in here, princess. I double checked,” Oli replies with a patronizing sigh.
Tori looks up and glares at him. “How about your dress shoes?” she snipes.
I smother a snort of laughter as he pauses mid-retort before turning on his heel and sprinting back up the stairs from the garage. She turns to look at me expectantly, and I give her a warm smile before sauntering over to her. I take her hips in my hands and pull her close, heart skipping a beat when she doesn’t flinch or pull back from my touch like she used to. I kiss her forehead, and I can feel the shiver run down her spine.
“Mine are in the bottom of my garment bag, sugar. Where you told me to put them two days ago,” I reassure her.
She sighs and lets her shoulders drop before she steps closer into my arms. “At least one of you listens when I talk,” she grumbles.
Eli pokes his head out of the backseat with a grin. “Sorry, did you say something?” he asks.
Tori lets out a little growl and lunges for him, but he laughs and moves back as I tighten my arms around Tori’s midsection to hold her back. Thankfully, Oli returns with a pair of freshly polished black shoes in his hand.
“That’s the last thing. Let’s get going before people start to block our driveway again,” he says, rounding the hood of the car to leap into the driver’s seat.
I give Tori a quick peck on the cheek before we pull apart, and she finds her way to the front passenger seat while I join Eli in the back. Thankfully, it’s still early enough that most people haven’t started getting set up for the full day of parades.
It’s the Friday before Mardi Gras, which used to just have parades after working hours. But in recent years, it’s sort of been rolled into the rest of the weekend festivities and almost everyone has the day off, in addition to Monday and Tuesday. There are three krewes on the Uptown route today: Isis, Hermes, and the Krewe of Olympus, which is the one we’ll be part of.
Olympus isn’t the traditional social club, but rather the collective group of sports stars from the New Orleans sports teams. The Saints, Pelicans, and Mystic are the main ones, but sometimes there are players for the Jesters, New Orleans’ professional soccer team, and other athletes from other fields like golf, tennis, and plenty of others. Because of the fluctuating date, there’s no hard-and-fast rule about participation, but enough people usually do to make it a large, exciting event.
Eli practically vibrates in the seat beside me as we pull into Jefferson Park, clearing security with ease. We follow the directions we were given to find the gathering point, passing one incredible float after another. The theme this year isn’t exactly clear, but I doubt anyone is going to give a shit by the time we’re driving by. We find a great spot and unload our trunk, Tori taking the garment bags with her as she trots off away from the check-in table.
Teddy from the logistics department assigns the three of us to float number fifteen and hands each of us a black plastic bag, the kind you’d receive a package in. We’re waved off to find our float, and I keep my eyes peeled for Tori, my heart kicking harder the longer she’s away. Not that I expect anything bad to happen to her when this entire lot is crawling with security. But I don’t want her to get lost or end up on a different float.
A cheer goes up as my linemates and I reach our float, and I can’t help but grin. Paul, Dallas, Henri, and Alexei are already here, and they’ve got a portable grill set up with what smells like bacon already cooking.
“I didn’t realize this was a tailgate.” I chuckle, slapping hands and bumping shoulders with my teammates.
“Well, if they’re making us get here this early when we aren’t even hitting the streets until after noon, we figured we’d enjoy ourselves a bit.” Tex laughs as he flips a slab of meat with a sizzle and a flash of flames.
“What’s in here?” Eli asks, bringing the wagon piled high with boxes to a stop.
We’d packed up the throws we’ve been collecting at the house to use today, which isn’t much in the grand scheme. Our email with the details said there would be throws provided, but not how many each of us would get. With our extra supply, we’ll get to be generous with our tosses instead of having to ration.
“That’s our costume,” Pope says simply, cracking a beer despite the sun barely being up.
“If you open it now, we’ll hang it up with ours so the wrinkles come out,” Henri suggests, nodding to the back of the float.
Without pausing, Eli rips into the plastic, Oli and I following suit. My face lights up in a grin as I realize what’s in my hands, my inner child nearly exploding with joy. It’s a hockey jersey, but unlike anything we’d wear during a game. The dark purple material sparkles with rhinestones lining the piping at the collar and around the elbow stripes. My name and number are covered in gold glitter, along with the fleur-de-lis of our logo.
“Do we get to keep these?” I ask, looking up with a wide grin.
Dallas nods. “You can. Some guys, who’ve been here long enough to have a closet full of ’em, choose to donate theirs to the silent auction.”
Pope scoffs and sucks his teeth. “You know I’m standing right here, Tex,” the veteran teases.
Dallas gives him a wry smile. “You are, aren’t you. Do you need someone to get you a chair? Wouldn’t want your old legs giving out before the day even gets started.”
We all laugh as Henri takes our jerseys and heads toward the float, disappearing through a secret entrance somewhere. We get to chatting as Dallas cooks bacon and steak and even some scrambled eggs on his blacktop griddle, in which time Jari, Caleb, and Owen join us, along with a few members of our equipment team. The food is served, and Dallas takes point, checking off everyone’s name from the list he was given.
“That just leaves...” he trails off as he looks over the paper.
“Coach!” Caleb shouts, by way of greeting.
I whip around, my stomach unclenching as I see Logan walking toward us, dragging a cooler behind him, but he’s got Tori by his side. My breath catches in my throat as I look her over, and I have to shake myself before anyone catches me staring.
She’s already dressed in her costume, even though we’ve got a few hours to go. It’s not a jersey like the other guys, but instead a bedazzled green bomber jacket over a cropped Mystic tank top. She’s still wearing her skin-tight jeans and tennis shoes, but she’s done something with her hair, braiding it back away from her face into neat plaits, and she’s had her makeup done. Swirls of color extend from her mismatched eyes, creating a mask-like effect without needing to wear anything.
“And that’s a full roster! Now the party can really get started!” Tex says triumphantly, plating the two remaining steaks and meeting Tori and Logan before they can fully join the group.
I take a large bite of bacon and look away, shifting slightly in place to adjust my half hard cock. Today is either going to be the best day of my life, or it’s going to kill me. And as I my eyes lock onto Tori’s again, and she gives me that sexy-ass smirk, I’m placing my bets on the latter.
The float rolls to another stop as we’re nearing the end of the route, and I glance around with a grin pulling at my cheeks. The place is a mess of plastic bags and cardboard boxes, all empty and ripped to shreds due to how frantically we’ve been opening them. We’re down to the last of our throws, and I’m grateful everyone decided to bring extra. I reach behind me to the row of bedazzled pucks, leaning almost all the way out over the crowd to toss one gently into the lap of a baby, their parents going wild as they wave their arms at me.
“Throw me something, mister!”
The famous refrain comes in from every side, and I take a handful of beads and cast them out like a net over the heads of the people below.
Mardi Gras is the best holiday in the world, and no one can convince me otherwise.
“BlackJack! Come here!” Caleb calls from the back half of the float.
I step away and let someone take my spot along the railing as I pick through the debris to the stairway landing, which has been dubbed the drink zone. We have coolers of Coke and water and sports drinks out on the main deck, but any alcohol had to stay tucked away. Something about maintaining our images with the public and union and league rules about substance use on the job.
When I squeeze in, I find Tex in the center of the group, handing out tiny plastic cups full of purple, green, and gold Jell-O. As I’m waiting for mine, I check for the rest of my pack, giving each of them a grin as I make eye contact. Tori’s makeup is still perfect despite the unseasonably warm day, though other non-player members of this float’s team haven’t been as lucky. The athletes were given exceptions to the rule about every person riding on a float needing to wear some form of mask or face paint, though I do spy Owen’s cheeks covered in chunky glitter as if it were eye black.
“To the best season we’ve had in years! I can’t wait to hold the cup up with y’all!” Tex shouts, raising his Jell-O shot in a toast.
We all let out roars of agreement before swallowing the alcohol-infused gelatin, almost everyone filing out of the drink room as the float starts moving again. Oli, Eli, Tori, and Logan linger, all of us grinning at each other.
“This is our last turn before we’re done?” Eli asks, speaking up slightly to be heard over the noise but not so loud as anyone passing by could overhear.
Tori nods. “They’re dropping us off at the convention center and having our cars valeted from Jefferson Park. It’s been going on all morning,” she says, swaying lightly as we go over a bump.
“Is that why I can’t find my keys?” Oli asks, relieved.
Tori gives him a mischievous smirk, shrieking with delight as she dodges his attempt to grab her, hiding behind Logan. Eli and I laugh, and I swipe a cold beer from one of the coolers, cracking the can and drinking half of it in one go.
“Save room for dinner and the open bar, Spence,” Tori chides.
“Yeah, it’s better to get drunk on the company dime, and the best when it’s coming out of Gideon St. Creep’s pocket,” Logan adds, downing another shot before wrapping an arm around Tori’s shoulders to hug her to his side.
“Fuck it, I’m drinking to that!” Eli says, and I can’t help the way my mouth waters as I watch his tongue swirl around the edges of the plastic cup to dislodge his extra shot.
Oli catches my eye and gives me a knowing grin before turning and heading back out to the main deck, Eli hot on his heels.
“He’s not going to be there tonight, is he?” My voice drops slightly as I step closer to Tori and Logan.
Tori thinks for a moment before shaking her head. “He’s never come to the ball in the years since I’ve been here, and he’s not on the guest list for tonight. The slimeball does have a way of showing up when you least expect it, though.”
Logan and I meet eyes, neither of us reassured by that reply. But we aren’t able to discuss the matter further, not as the float makes a sharp turn and then rolls to a stop.
Tori pulls away from Logan before letting out a long breath. “I have to run, or I’m never going to be able to get ready in time. See you at dinner?”
“Don’t forget to take your afternoon meds, baby girl. And drink a little water for me, yeah?” Logan says sternly.
Tori flashes a wide smile as she heads down the stairs. “Yes, Daddy.”
I give Logan a smirk as he purrs, but contain myself from laughing out loud. I had my doubts about his relationship with Tori at first. But the longer I’ve been able to watch them together, the more I’ve realized that he’s wrapped just as tightly around her delicate fingers as the rest of us.
“Come on, Daddy. Let’s get our stuff,” I tease, nudging him with my shoulder.
Logan mimes throwing up before shoving me into the wall, which only makes me laugh. Yeah, he fits right in.