June opens the fridge and finds the eggs. “What were youtwo talking about when I came in? Pen looked like she was two breaths away from panic.”
“Oh!” May yips, spinning to grin at her sister. “We’re giving Pen a makeover today!”
“Now, hold on—”
“Yes!” June holds her fists under her chin as she dances in place. “Oh, I so know how we should do her hair!”
“Right?” May says, as if June has already given a full description. “And then clothes! I have plans. Big plans!”
Hours of shopping-related, “thrust into the center of attention” torture loom before me. “Don’t I get a say?”
“No!” From both of them.
“We’re going home tomorrow,” June says. “Let’s have this day of fun. Besides, I think you need a little relaxation after all this August related PR.”
Slumping in defeat, I begin to crack my eggs. “Avocado riches aside, I’m not sure I can afford a full makeover.”
“We’re paying for the hair,” May says firmly. “Consider it an early birthday present.”
“My birthday is months from now.”
“As for the clothes,” June adds. “We know how to shop for bargains that will still look both hot and classy. It’s really a matter of adding good pieces to what you already have.”
“Absolutely.” May nods. “We got you, boo.”
I try not to laugh. Or sigh. No wonder August was terrified of facing these two. The Luck brothers might be a veritable wall of physical strength, but the Luck sisters have persuasive skills bordering on hypnotic. I already feel myself being pulled under.
June wraps her arm around my shoulders and gives me an affectionate squeeze. “Don’t look so glum, Penny. We’re going to take good care of you.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” I mutter darkly.
“You’ll survive.” She kisses my cheek. “Sometimes you’ve got to let yourself enjoy a little pampering.”
Thing is? She’s right. I don’t do enough self-care. Hadn’t Ibeen lecturing myself on getting better clothes? On crawling out of this shell I’ve constructed around myself? I can’t be the me I’ve always wanted to be if I don’t try. And if there was ever a time when I needed to put myself in their capable hands, it’s now.
A long breath leaves me, and I rest my head on June’s shoulder. “All right. Have at me.”
They both squeal. I’m enveloped in a group hug of joy. And it feels good to let go. Really good.
August
It’s late when I finally head out. Hours of training, followed by footage reviews and QB meetings have left my body drained and my eyes sore. I just want to kick back with a cold drink in one hand and Pen in the other.
The thought bursts through the fog like a lightning strike, and I halt a step. I shouldn’t be surprised; she’s on my mind more often than not. And I knew that having her in my life would change everything.
But the fact that she’s my first choice of reward after a long day truly sinks in. I’ve never had a person I looked forward to seeing in this way. Women: mother, sisters, aunts, grandmothers, play a huge factor in my life, and I love each and every one of them. I’d like to think they’ve made me a better person, shown me what it is to truly love and be loved.
When it comes to sexual release and romance, women have basically been interchangeable and not exactly necessary in my life. Truth is, I’ve felt no desire to get close to any of them. As for sex? That I’ve gone through a dry period since the last week of the draft—a time I do not want to think about—doesn’t faze me.
What does faze me is that one woman I want—no,need—to be near is the one I’ve convinced to fake it with me.
The thought makes my steps heavy as I head for the Grouch. Press have gathered at the visitors’ entrance for shots of players and quick sound bites. We have an important big game thisweek, so we’ll be peppered with the usual nonsense questions and given the usual stock answers. There are times when I’m answering that I imagine myself pulling a folksy Ted Lasso or, even better, a Roy Fucking Kent and letting loose. But reality is much less permissive of going off script. Last thing I need is to further tarnish my image by not being a “team player.”
Luckily, no one has yet spotted me. I exited a rarely used janitorial door in the hopes of evasion. It’s now a matter of casually strolling to my vehicle without them noticing.
The sun is doing an easy slide toward the western horizon, leaving a swath of gilded tangerine and bruised purple in its wake. Idle breezes dance over the warm concrete and rustle in the giant palms overhead. California is beautiful like that. Volatile at times but gorgeous all the same.
A gust of wind rushes past, lifting the ends of my hair and cooling me off. Sighing, I raise my head.
