“Nice to see you too, Megan. Are you looking for Coop?”
I crane my neck around to see if I can locate him in the lobby teemed with athletes from all over the world.
“Oh no, girl. I’m here with Paul Parinzino.”
Megan smiles like a cat who just swallowed a canary.
“I saw you standing over here and just wanted to say hi.”
I’m dumbfounded. I don’t know Megan that well, in fact, I don’t know her at all because she and Coop dated briefly, but I wouldn’t have guessed that she would do something this low.
Paul Parinzino is the brand new rookie the Nighthawks have drafted as Saint Stevenson’s backup quarterback. He’s probably young and dumb and thinks someone like Megan is his dream woman, but he also has to know that she was sleeping with Coop literally a few weeks ago. I mean, he must know that. She posted about it every ten seconds on Instagram.
“Well, uh, you have a good time tonight, Megan. I need to get back to work.”
After we exchange a few more very bogus pleasantries, it only takes a second for me to realize that we both are headed in the same direction, same seating section, and the same row where Coop’s family are already seated.
“Hello, Mrs. Barnes,” she addresses Coop’s mother. Coop’s father must have stepped out for a moment. “I’m a really good friend of your son’s.”
Megan extends her arm out for a handshake.
Wowza, she’s so shameless.
“And this is Paul Parinzino, future star quarterback of The Nighthawks.”
Parinzino looks uncomfortable but shakes Mrs. Barnes’ hand too. “Nice to meet you.”
After the two of them take their seats, Mrs. Barnes uses her pointer finger to motion for me to bend down so she can whisper something to me.
“Did you know about this, Ursula?”
“What do you mean, Mrs. Barnes?”
“I know exactly who she is. Why is she sitting next to Coop?”
I knew I felt a bad omen coming on.
“I apologize, Mrs. Barnes. I’ll take care of it.”
To add more bad juju on the night, not only is Megan on the arm of the newly signed rookie quarterback from Coop’s team but sitting on the other side of his seat is player, Peter Duncan, from a rival team that Coop has had a long running war of words with.
Granted—Duncan is a NFL veteran with three Super Bowl rings and a legendary career, but there were a lot of other places they could have seated him on Coop’s big night. Frankly, I think the network did this for ratings. In a world of seedy reality television, I feel like almost anything goes these days.
I scan the room to look for Millicent, when I finally spot her standing by the sound booth. Before I walk toward her, I feel a sturdy hand grab my wrist.
“Wait.”
The seventh instance of physical contact.
“What’s up, Coop?” I ask clearing my throat.
“You were about to find the showrunner, right?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t change anything. Nothing can ruin my night.”
Coop’s father who’s standing right behind him agrees.
