I watch and listen in fascination to the few songs she performs, dancing with two backup dancers who look great but not as great as her. At least I have an excuse to stare at her right now. Everyone’s staring at her. And it’s over too soon. She finishes with an explosive music chord, flashing lights, and a burst of smoke, throwing her hair back and thrusting her arms in the air.
The applause fills the arena and I look around at the other players as we all clap for her. My hands hurt from clapping so hard. I can’t believe I got to see her perform live. Amazing.
The rest of the evening is a blur as the other teams take the ice. I do interviews and watch the other game, keeping an eye out for Nikki.
I never asked if she’s staying here in Vegas tonight as well. Maybe she had to leave? I was disappointed last night, but I knew I’d see her again today. But we’ve been surrounded by people and part of the event. Dammit.
There’s an after-party in one of the hotel bars when everything winds down. We make our way there in our suits, attracting attention from others in the hotel who are taking pictures and watching us.
Last night we were in the sports bar, which was smaller and quieter. Tonight it’s Club Myriad, with two levels, VIP suites, and blue, purple and gold LED ribbon lights that pulse to the rhythm of the music. The party is in a big private suite and we mill around the lobby area waiting to be shown there. Security eyes us up and down with suspicious looks. Do they think we’re some kind of organized crime gang?
When I turn around, Nikki’s there, with the guys and also her backup dancers, and she’s watching me. The hostess starts to lead the way in.
“Hi, diva.” I stop in front of Nikki and our eyes meet.
“Diva?” She blinks at me, but then we’re all moving, marching behind the hostess. We’re shown to the upper-level suite overlooking the crowded dance floor. It’s a relief to step inside where there’s space and the music is muted. People are already there, sitting in leather chairs and couches, others standing to talk, and there are multiple bottles of vodka and tequila that apparently are included with the suite.
Nikki introduces her dancers to some of the guys—Tiana, with smooth dark brown skin and long black hair in twists; and Lita, with brown skin lighter than Tiana’s, her hair a short choppy style in a deep shade of purplish-red and lips to match.
Many of the guys are circling around Nikki’s friends, flirting. Jesus. I hope they don’t get gross with the women. But the two women seem to be having fun. And who am I to talk as I stare lustfully at Nikki. She’s talking to Chase Hart from ESPN. I take in her new outfit—a short black sequined mini skirt that shows off her incredible legs again. Apparently Nikki’s legs are my new fetish. Her white T-shirt with a black and red ladybug on it is short, so when she moves, she sometimes reveals a strip of smooth skin above the waistband of the skirt. I like that, too. I even like the chunky black Doc Martens on her feet.
I don’t like the way Chase Hart is looking at her.
I toss back a mouthful of vodka, standing a little to the side, silent, feeling like Sasquatch in a suit. Nikki glances my way a few times. I don’t make a move. She turned me down last night. Finally, she leaves Chase and approaches me. “Hey.”
“Hey. Good show you put on. You were great.”
“Thanks.” She runs her tongue over her plump bottom lip. Her gaze tours over my face, lingering on my mouth.
After a long, charged moment of staring at each other, I say, “I wasn’t sure if you were still here.”
“Oh. Yeah. We leave tomorrow.” She sips her drink.
“Same. Where are you off to?”
“Los Angeles. I have a couple of events and we’re recording.”
She’s heading to the opposite coast from where I’ll be.
“Not back to New York.”
“No. Not right now. I’m back and forth a lot. But…” She smiles. “New York is home.”
“When will you be there?”
“Hmmm.” She looks to the ceiling, thinking. “I’m not sure. I think April?”
“Jesus.” That’s months away.
“Yeah.” She tips her head. “Will you be in L.A.?”
“We play there in March, I think.”
She nods slowly.
“Would you give me your number?”
A smile tugs her lips. “Yes.”
