“Personally, I think you put Jennifer Lawrence to shame. What do I know, though?”
“If I put her to shame, you do something awful to Peeta.”
“Doctor?” the voice came through on the microphone, now that the applause had died down. “Did you have time to answer a few questions about you two as a couple?”
Dustin grabbed hold of the mic and chimed in. “Of course we do. Anything for the good people of Las Vegas.”
The crowd cheered. I had to hand it to Dustin. He knew how to work a crowd.
“I’m going to start this off,” the moderator said. “How onearthdid you two meet? We’ve all seen the video from last night, and the story just seems a little unfathomable. Good girl doctor meets bad boy—no offense, Dustin—hockey player. It’s like something out of a movie!”
The crowd hooted and hollered again.
Dustin nodded, passing the microphone to me.
“The funny thing about true love is that you just never know when it’s going to strike,” I said, stealing the sound bite I heard from his chat with his coach earlier.
Dustin smiled in agreement.
I felt my stomach churn. I was lying through my teeth, which went against every bone in my body. I was used to giving people the truth whether it was good news or bad. Even—well,especially—in the cases where they only had a few months to live because of a terminal illness.
And then there was also no denying now that my distinguished lecture on cancer research had been hijacked into something resembling a morning talk show.
“True love conquers all,” the moderator repeated. “Now tell me, how exactly did you two meet? Is it like your snapchat alluded to, you met in college?”
“Well, it’s a bit of a forbidden romance,” Dustin explained, taking the microphone. “She was a grad student at the University of Michigan, and I was visiting there my senior year of college. We met out at the bars one night, you know, and we’ve just stayed in touch since then. You could say that last night was a sort of rekindling.”
He was so good at lying off the cuff it was scary.
“To say the least!” The moderator said. “That video made it seem like you were having a ton of fun!”
“Oh yes,” Dustin winked, and I could practically see the women swooning in the back rows.
“Anyway,” he continued. “We’re really happy to see everyone so enthused about cancer research this year. Donate big, save a life, and feel good. Fuck Cancer!”
The crowd was silent for a moment, as if stunned and not knowing what to do with that F-bomb.
“Shoot, I forgot I was on national TV. I meant to say, cancer sucks!” Dustin said.
The crowd clapped like crazy, and we got the hell off of the stage before we could do any more damage or dig ourselves into a deeper hole with more grandiose lies for which we would have to invent a deeper back story.
We shook a few hands and took some pictures with the press as my hangover set in.
This was really happening.
I did feel a lot like Katniss from Hunger Games. Except this wasn’t a movie. And Dustin was a great deal more sexually attractive than Peeta. And, you know, we didn’t have to fight to the death, which was good. But wewereputting on a show for the people.
After everyone filed out of the room, Dustin got a call from someone which seemed to distress him.
“Yes. Of course, we can make it. Goodbye.”
“Who was that?” I asked.
“News travels fast,” he said. “The owner of the Chicago Tigers wants to meet you.”
I recoiled. “Why would he want to meet me?”
He rested his hand on my shoulder and massaged it, which felt surprisingly good. “Because, Cat, he’s ninety-two years old, ahands-on owner, and feels the need to vet every single one of his players’ life choices.”
