Page 114 of The Late Hit
“Quinton Boyd,” Q answers, reaching into his pocket for his wallet. He finds his credit card and slides it over to her.
She swipes his card, handing it back to him. “Miss Wilder will be ready in three hours.”
My eyes bug out. Three hours. I didn’t come all the way to Kansas City to sit in a spa. I came here to explore with my boyfriend. To support him and to soak as much time that we have together before his NFL career takes over.
He senses the tension radiating off my skin. Leaning down, he kisses my forehead. “Relax and trust me. I’ll have a car waiting for you at noon.” And with that, he turns and walks away, leaving me alone with the hostess.
“Right this way, miss.” She ushers me to the right side of the lobby. I follow her and she instructs me to go into a dark room, strip off all my clothes, and lie down on the bed with the blanket on top of me. I’m about to have an hour-long massage before a facial, manicure, makeup application, and a blowout.
I can’t stay mad at him for too long. This has been the best three hours of my life. Walking out to the waiting town car my body feels light as a feather and there’s a calmness around me. All of the stress from the last couple of months has melted off me.
The driver takes me back to the hotel. He opens the door for me, I make my way to the hotel room. I scan the keycard and push the door open, my shoulders slumping as I’m met with an empty room. The only noise is alternative music coming from the television. Inhaling a deep breath, I spot a gift box on the bed. It’s a white box with a blue bow attached. There’s a note attached to the ribbon. Lowering my purse to the bed, I sit next to the box staring at it. This day has been the strangest since coffee this morning. Picking up the note, I spot familiar handwriting.
Wilder,
I’m living out all my dreams this weekend. There’s just one more thing I need to do to make them all come true. Open the box, put what’s in it on, and meet me downstairs in an hour.
Love Always,
Q
Slipping the ribbon off the box, I slowly open the lid. A gasp leaves my lips, and I drop the note to the floor.
What does Quinton have in mind?
“Andwiththethirdpick of the 2023 NFL draft, the Colorado Colts select Quinton Boyd, running back, Central Texas,” the NFL Commissioner announces.
Brynn and I watch on the TV from the waiting room inside Union Station as my name is called. Tears spring into my eyes, and I grasp for Brynn immediately. She turns, hugging me and bringing her hand to my face and a grin spreads from ear to ear. Bending down, I give her a quick kiss before I’m ushered down a hall toward the stage.
Brynn’s the only one here for me, aside from Eliza, on this big day, and I wouldn’t have it any other day. She’s the only one who has supported me my entire college career. She’s encouraged me to do what I felt. On my darkest days, she has been the light at the end of the tunnel. It was her cheering me on, encouraging me and motivating me that helped land me here. Do I wish my parents were here? Of course. But for the past year, they’ve done nothing but push their agenda on me. At the end of the day, they wanted what would look best for them, not what was best for me. The only one I wanted here was Brynn.
The camera stays on me my entire journey. I keep my head down, but I can’t get the grin off my face. I did it. Me. Not anyone else. I secured a first-round draft pick, and it was in the top five. Hell, it was number three when I was expecting a number five pick. Elated doesn’t even begin to describe how happy I feel.
I’m almost to the end of the hall when someone on personnel hands me a flat bill Colorado Colts hat. Looking in the mirror, I quickly place the black hat with a blue bill on my head and tug it on so it fits snugly.
And then I’m walking out on stage. Holy shit! My arms stretch out to my side. A little celebratory sound comes out of my mouth. I begin waving my arms up and down, bouncing on my feet as I make my way over to the Commissioner. We give each other a high five, he pulls me into a hug, slapping my back. He congratulates me before handing me my jersey. In my hands is a black Colorado Colts jersey with silver letters and BOYD printed across the back. We stand together as the cameras flash over and over. With one last handshake and congratulations from him, I move to walk off the stage.
I step down into the hall again and am immediately directed toward the left instead of straight. It’s a media frenzy down here. Cameras are set up all over the room with an NFL Draft 2023 backdrop. Scanning the room, I find Eliza and Brynn waiting at a high-top table. Brynn has a glass of champagne in her hand and a megawatt smile stretched over her face. She looks stunning tonight. She always does. But tonight, she has on a gold thin strapped, deep V-neck formal gown. The gold in the dress brings out her golden skin and ocean-blue eyes. And the sequins that are sewn into her bodice make her shine.
Gold dresses are her color. My mind goes back to our trip to Chicago and the gold minidress she wore. It was the night everything changed between us. I took a dare and made a move on my girl. Six months later, my heart is overflowing with love for her.
Stopping in front of the backdrop, I smile for the cameras, holding up my jersey. Erica Adams, an ESPN reporter, steps up next to me.
“Congratulations, Quinton. You are the newest member of the Colorado Colts. How does it feel to be heading to Colorado?”
“Erica, I couldn't be more excited. It feels amazing to even be drafted, let alone in the top three. I’ve never been to Colorado, but it sounds a lot like home.”
“Colorado is coming off a tough season. Does that impact you at all?”
“C’mon now, Erica.” I chuckle. “Nah, I’m fired up. I’m so happy to be a Colt. I’m looking forward to getting out there, getting settled, and winning some football.”
“Alright, Quinton.” Erica chuckles too. “You’re looking well-dressed tonight. I see you’re sporting some new ice. Tell us about it.” Erica points out my chains and the diamond studs in my ears.
“The chains came from my grams. She dropped them off before we flew out here,” I say, referencing the gold chain with the diamond-encrusted cross necklace. “And my wife surprised me with the studs this morning.”
“I’m sorry, did you just say wife?” Erica asks, mouth dropping open. A smile takes over my face.
As I tip my head in the direction of Eliza and Brynn, the cameras spin to her. Brynn lifts her champagne flute in a salute, flashing her engagement ring—a six carat oval cut diamond surrounded by a row of smaller diamond accent stones. Below that rests her wedding band, a diamond eternity band. The rings shine beautifully on her dainty fingers.
