Page 137 of It Happened on a Sunday
“Mmmmmmhmmm.” Another woman nods. “I damn near jumped Drew after I saw it.”
“Sorry to be of service?” Sly tells his teammate dryly.
“Oh, please.” Light glints off the woman’s long gold-and-black nails as she waves her hand with a flourish. “Drew doesn’t care what revs the engine so long as he’s the one doing the driving.”
That startles a laugh out of me, but Drew just shrugs. “Truth, baby.”
The ribbing goes on for several minutes, each guy trying tooutdo the other. I find myself relaxing and even joining in to tease Sly a time or two, because these people are fun. I mean, sure, they’ve got egos, but most of the time they don’t take themselves—or each other—too seriously. It’s a nice break from the music and Hollywood parties I’m used to, where everyone is more concerned with being seen than actually having a good time.
I’m on my second drink of the evening when Vivian shows up. She heads right for us, placing a hand on Sly’s arm as she works her way into the conversation.
He barely seems to notice, engaged as he is with an offensive-line coach and her wife. As they start talking strategy for the upcoming playoff game, I hand Sly my drink for safekeeping and make an escape to the ladies’ room.
When I come back a few minutes later, it’s to find Sly and Vivian deep in conversation with the team owner’s sons, who I met when we first got here. I do a quick scan of the room—I don’t want to interrupt business—but it turns out Sly’s been watching for me, because the moment I get close to him, he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me close.
“I missed you,” he whispers in my ear.
“You’re ridiculous,” I whisper back.
Vivian watches our exchange, and something in her eyes makes me nervous—or at least cautious. But then, as the conversation lags, she holds her drink up in a toast.
“Here’s to the Super Bowl!” she crows. “And getting Austin another ring!”
We all drink to that. I finish my margarita in one long swallow. If I have to deal with Vivian all night, being a little socially lubricated certainly can’t hurt. Sadly, it doesn’t taste nearly as good warm as it did cold.
Sly leans down to ask me something, but before he can, one of the team owner’s sons—Bradley, I believe—jumps onto the stagein the front of the room and grabs the mic.
“Hello, Twisters family!” he shouts, words slurring around the edges.
Apparently, he doesn’t have the same two-drink limit I do.
“I want to start the entertainment portion of our evening by saying how grateful my family and I are for every person in this room. Together, you make this team the incredible powerhouse that it is. As a thank-you, we’ve arranged an intimate concert for tonight.”
All around us, people start turning to look at me. Even Sly glances down, eyebrow raised, but I just shake my head. I would have sung tonight if they’d asked me to, but no one did.
“Everyone, please take a seat.” He gestures to the black-draped tables scattered around the room. “And join us for the amazing, the incredible, the one, the only…Ms. Pauline Vargus.”
The room erupts as the curtain lifts to reveal Pauline and her band in all their glory. The band is wearing black, while Pauline’s color of the day is bright, unapologetic crimson. Red wig, red lips, red nails, red heels, long, red-sequined dress. She looks breathtaking, not to mention sexy as hell—a fact that isn’t lost on this crowd, judging by the number of wolf whistles punctuating the applause.
Pauline waves to the crowd, and though it looks like she wants to say something, the cheering is too loud for her to even try right now. So she gives a signal to the band, and they launch into one of her biggest, hottest hits, “Me and You.”
“Did you know about this?” Sly asks without so much as dropping his eyes from Pauline for a second.
“I didn’t,” I tell him. “She must have wanted to surprise me.”
She starts to sing, and within three bars, the entire room is curled up in the palm of her hand. A glance at Sly shows me he’s right there with everyone else, and the fact that he’s so completely smitten with her fills me with joy.
I don’t know how it happened, but after all this time, I somehow managed to pick a really great guy.
After “Me and You,” Pauline launches into two more songs before finally stopping for some patter with the audience.
“Well, hello, Austin Twisters. I’ve got to say, you are the most welcoming crowd I’ve played to since…well…yesterday.”
The room erupts with laughter. “But I’ll be happy to revise that opinion in your favor if one of the big, strong men in the room wants to meet me for a little one-on-one greeting later tonight.” She makes a deliberately coquettish face as she says it, and the crowd roars with approval.
Except for Marquis, who yells, “Just tell me where to go.”
“Oh my!” Pauline makes a show of clutching her diamonds.Pearls are for soft girls, Sloane. Diamonds are for girls who won’t be broken. “Tell you what, grab a bottle of pink champagne and meet me backstage. We’ll see who comes and who flows.”
