Page 122 of It Happened on a Sunday
Like with Sly’s friends earlier, it’s not as bad as I expected it to be. Not pleasant but not nearly as awful as usual. Maybe it’s because I know they won’t hurt me. Or maybe it’s that I’m learning how to trust people again. Not just Sly but Marco and G and Bianca and Jace. People who have had my back for years, even when I struggled to see just how many people I care about also care about me.
“I’ll have two of my guys stationed outside this door,” Vince tells Marco and me. “If Ms. Walker wants to leave the box for any reason, we can call for backup. Otherwise, I’ll return at halftime with several security guards and then again at the end of the game.” He smiles at me. “Enjoy.”
I smile my thanks before putting on my best poker face as one of the other stadium guards pulls open the door to the suite. My attention immediately falls on the people already inside.
Sly’s family.
For a second, they all stare at me in surprise, like they’re shocked I’m actually here. But then abuela Ximena struggles to her feet. “Sloane! You made it!”
“I did,” I tell her, and much to my own shock, I’m the one who initiates a hug. She feels safe, like Sly does, albeit in a much different way. “How are you?”
“Great, now that you’re here! I’ve been telling the girls for months how much I enjoyed meeting you. I can’t wait til we can have you out for dinner en la casa.”
“I can’t wait to come.” I smile at Sly’s sisters, trying to figure out from his descriptions who is who.
The tall one who looks the most like him is the baby, Mariana. She’s still in high school, wants to go to UT, and is the one who painted his nails to practice for the school play. The short brunette with the nose ring is Camila. She’s in her last year of college and wants to move to L.A. as soon as she graduates. And the wispy one with the huge smile is Lucia.
We exchange greetings and much more uncomfortable hugs—they all seem just as kind as their brother and grandmother, though Camila has a definite edge to her, which I can appreciate. Especially when her greeting is a quick dip of the chin instead of an embrace.
Besides, whatever attitude she’s giving me is nothing compared to what Sly’s agent is dishing out. Which might be understandable, considering some of the press he got after our date in L.A., but also feels strange coming from a woman who looks more like Cinderella than a big, bad sports agent. The light-blue sundress she’s wearing only adds to the image, as does the way her blond hair is scraped back into an elegant chignon at the base of her neck.
At least until she holds out a hand for me to shake and the very defined muscles in her arms grow even more pronounced as she squeezes my hand so hard I can feel the tendons rub together.
Under normal circumstances, I’d pull back with a pithy comment or two, but there’s a challenge in her dark-green eyes that has me staying exactly where I am. Plus, this is Sly’s agent. I figure she’s got the right to take a shot or two.
At least until she gives me a smile so sweet it makes my toes curl in dread and says, “It’s so nice to meet the troublemaker who keeps getting Sly into hot water.”
Chapter 51
Sloane
At least a dozen responses spring to my mind, all of which come with a healthy dose of fang. But again, this is someone Sly pretty much considers family, and the last thing I want to do is mess with that relationship—for his sake and for the sake of our own.
To be honest, I don’t blame her for being pissed about the bad publicity Sly’s been getting, either. I’m still pissed about it, too.
Besides, if I can’t respect a woman with an attitude like that, who can’t be tamed by social niceties, what the hell am I even doing with my life?
Abuela Ximena must not feel the same way, though, because she shoots Vivian an exasperated look. “It was one time, Vivian. Let it go.”
“It’s one time too many,” Vivian snipes back in a heavy New York accent I definitely wasn’t expecting to come out of Cinderella. “You know better than anyone that Sly’s not the kind of kid to get into trouble.”
She levels a jaded look at me that makes it obvious she thinks I’m exactly the type of woman who does, before settling into a chair and focusing her attention on the still-empty field. “Game’s about to start.”
I’m not so sure about that, but I’m also not about to argue with her.
“Don’t worry about Vivian,” Mariana tells me as she grabs a soda from the bar in the corner. “She collects vinyl, dolls, and sports stars, and she’s irrationally protective of all of them. Especially the sports stars.”
I’m not sure how I feel about Sly being a collectible, so I settleon moving as far away from Vivian as the box suite allows. I may not want to upset her, but I don’t have to be her best friend, either.
“Sloane, grab some food and come sit next to me,” says Mariana, patting the chair next to her. “We can tell you Sly stories so you can make fun of him later.”
“I think I’ll just grab some water for now,” I tell her, partly because I’m thirsty and partly because I need a second to center myself.
But before I can so much as take a step toward the refreshment table, Marco hands me a glass and glances toward the open seat between Sly’s sister and grandmother.
“I know, I know,” I hiss at him, wondering how I went from having no one outside my work circle to having another whole group. The moment Sly and abuela Ximena came into it, apparently.
Game on, Sloane.
