Despite my closet full of football trophies, multiple championship rings, and a nod for one of Vista City’s “Sexiest Bachelors” from a local magazine, none of them can top the arrival of her first grandbaby.
My chest feels hollow as I consider that. I can work myself to the bone, winning awards and championships and titles, but at the end of the day, what do I have if there’s no one to share them with? He’s not much older than me, but I feel like he’s decades ahead. While I’m out with whatever girl catches my eye that month, Ian has Nora. He has consistency. Someone to go home to that loves him for more than his accomplishments. Football wins and business aspirations pale in comparison to what my brother has—a family. He’s steady, dependable, and despite his high profile career, he’s predictable. All of the things that always seem just out of reach for me. As much as I wish I were successful in the same areas, I won’t begrudge my brother true happiness. I may have more championship rings, but Ian is the one who always seems to win. And that’s fine.
CHAPTER SIX
LENA
A man’stanned face pops up on the video chat screen. Immediately, my mother’s over-lined lips spread into a smile so wide you can see every bleached tooth in her head.
“Jason Lancaster. How are you? Looks like the Cozumel sun has been kind to you,” she coos.
“I’ve got a reservation in twenty.” He leans back. Droplets of water roll down his face from his dark hair, and I realize he’s in a pool. I’m no stranger to working vacations, but even I know pool time should be sacred.
Antonia leans forward, clearing her throat. “Jason, this is Lena.”
“I know who Lena is.” A grin finally flashes across his face. “Doesn’t everybody?”
I lift my hand in a small wave, mimicking my mom’s smile, trying to remember everything we’ve gone over.
I’m in town for work. I want to see a Kings game. I love football.
I’ve never been much of an actress, though I’ve done my fair share of cameos, and I’m not sure if that last sentiment is something I can fake. I don’t know the first thing about football. It’s kind of something I pride myself on. Regardless of how manybox seats and suites I’ve been offered by vying admirers, I’ve never dated an athlete, and I don’t plan to.
Antonia leans toward the screen. “Lena is a huge Vista City Kings fan. Last time we spoke you mentioned you’ve been working with Decker Trace.”
Decker Trace? Why does that sound so familiar?
She pushes a stray curl from her forehead, clearing her throat. “Lena is currently in Vista working on her newest recording endeavor, and she was thinking about collaborating with a player for one of her philanthropies.”
My mother chimes in, her face filling the screen. “And she was dying to stop by the kickoff game. Ever since she was a child, she’s just loved The Kings.”
I can’t hold back my scowl, and I’m relieved to see Antonia is just as annoyed as I am. Trying to wiggle our way in by leveraging a charity opportunity is fine by me, at least that feels authentic. But me being a Kings fan? That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one. I’ve never paid much attention to football, but my dad has been an Orlando Pit Vipers fan his entire life, so I grew up wearing Pit Viper purple, not Kings blue.
“And you were hoping I’d be your in?” Jason sips some fizzy cocktail over on his side of the world.
Antonia begins to speak, but my mom interrupts again. “We’re having trouble securing tickets.”
“I find it hard to believe Lena Lux is struggling to get inanywhere.” He arches a brow.
“Our main concern is the charity.” Antonia tries to regain control of the conversation. I nod, playing along, but my mother shoulders me aside.
“Jason, let me cut to the chase here.” She eyes me before diving back into her story. “My daughter has been absolutely smitten with Decker Trace ever since she laid eyes on him onLate Night with Lanza.She was hoping you could maybe… put in a good word for her, at the very least.”
My jaw drops as the last horrible piece of this deranged puzzle falls into place like some dissonant guitar chord. How could I forget? Decker Trace is the meathead who wolfed down my worms backstage at Billy Lanza’s show. If I never saw him again, I’d die happy. Outside of football, he’s mostly known for breaking hearts, and more recently, for winning some idle bachelor award. And the award isn’t even international, it’s local. I tried to search him after I met him, just to see what kind of crap human he really is, but other than those facts, his online presence is minimal. He posts about his dog a lot. That’s it. The things I know about him are few. He’s a gummy worm stealer who treats dogs better than women and likes to throw a ball around. Definitely not my type.
Jason’s eyes dart to my sliver of the screen. I run my fingers through my bangs, replacing my look of shock with a smile I hope translates as more bashful than flustered. The fact that I didn’t realize I’d met Decker, let alone stalked him online, is a bit concerning. I make a mental note to pencil in a spa day sometime soon to recharge the batteries and whatever mush is left of my brain. Antonia clears her throat, pulling Jason’s attention back to her as she adapts our plan to accommodate my mother’s curveball. This woman deserves another raise.
But why does it have to be Decker Trace? Even from our conversation backstage—though calling it a conversation would be an exaggeration—I can’t say I was impressed. He hardly looked my way, and I didn’t encourage his ego by glancing his after our little food fight. Thick biceps and even thicker-headed isn't really my type, anyway. He’s far from what I look for in a man. If I were to choose one human who embodies “my type,” it’s Callum Porter, hands down. Musically inclined, covered in tattoos, and an arsenal of swoony one-liners worthy of anymulti-platinum record. Maybe that’s why nothing ever works out. Pretty words don’t equate to a functional relationship.
When it came to Decker, he’d been less than poetic, to say the least. Beyond his lack of charm and veiny forearms, the only thing I remember about him is that he downed the last bits of my requested treat with complete disregard for anyone else. If I were to give him a star rating, it’d be next to zero for that alone. Give or take a point for the way his eyes lit up when he flashed that irritatingly confident smile.
Someone offscreen summons Jason, snapping me out of my stewing.
He glances over his shoulder, then leans into the camera, lowering his voice. “I don’t know. Antonia. I’m not really in the business of matchmaking.”
Antonia narrows her stare. “Jason, after I worked overtime to help resolve your last client’s outburst, you owe me. I saved your butt, and you lived to work again. I think the least you can do is arrange something so she can meet her crush.”
I cringe, but quickly recover, giving Jason my best pleading eyes. It isn’t abnormal for me to have to play along with my mom and Antonia, regardless of how much I despise this plan. Just another day at the office.
