Larissa promptly hangs up. “What?”
My excitement overshadows the rising panic. “I’ve been asked to do the promo today!”
“Then why crap crackers?”
“Because they asked me two days ago to fill in for Jamie, and I just now saw."
“Oh—” Larissa’s eyebrows shoot up into her hairline. “Ohhhh… Yeah, ‘cause of her ankle.”
I skim the email, filling her in on the most important parts. “She’s on rest, and because we have such a similar look, they want me to fill in.”
“You guys do not look similar.” Her curls bounce as she shakes her head.
“I mean, we do. A little. Dark hair. Olivey skin.”
“But you have cute freckles. And better hair.” She studies my face, and I force a brighter smile. “I hate how much we get compared to each other, but I guess that’s just the nature of entertainment.”
“It’s fine! Whatever gets my foot in the door,” I reassure her. “I mean, half the reason they do these community events is for the media coverage, so they have to considerwhat’s going to look best in photos. Don’t tell anyone I said that, though. But we both know it’s true.”
Larissa rolls her eyes as she nods.
“Plus, they said—” I squint as I read part of the email to her. “That our ‘happy-go-lucky, girl-next-door demeanor’ makes us a staple in these types of ‘forward-facing events.’”
“Well, that’s nice, at least. Regardless, I’m glad we get to do it together now.” She smiles and turns from the door. “Looks like Francesca’s not home. We can come back later and check it out if you want.”
I take one more long gaze at the stone-front building. It’s beautiful. New.Expensive-looking. “How much did you say it was?”
“A month? A few thousand at least.” I suck in a sharp breath, and Larissa laughs. “I was hoping she’d cut us a deal.”
“Thanks, but maybe I’ll keep looking.”
“The Kings don’t pay us the big bucks for nothing. Hurry up and respond to that email so we can go make some more!” She nudges me as we approach Ol’ Harriet, who seems to have generated a new patch of rust beside her grill, like some awful rash she can’t shake. “If my apartment wasn’t the size of a shoebox, I’d be offering you my place.”
I laugh as I shoot off a quick email response and then stop dead in my tracks. “What about Mary?”
“She’ll understand. That’s just a side gig anyway, right?”
I fidget with my keys as though there aren’t only two on my keychain. “Right.”
“Exactly. Text her.”
Mary isn’t much of a texter, so I call the store instead as I round my car. When she doesn’t answer, I leave a message on the answering machine—yes, she still uses an answering machine—and promise to make it up to her. Who knows what Mary will have planned for me when I get back. And I bet she’ll add interest.
“The good thing is, now we have just enough time to go to your place and get ready.” Larissa’s tone shifts to something dreamy, and I swear cartoon stars appear in her eyes. “I’ve never been in a home on Soleil Drive before.”
My heart clobbers my sternum as panic sets in. “Well, buckle up because you’re in for a treat.”
If I’d been more responsible, if I’d only opened my email before a few minutes ago, I could have avoided this entire thing. But here I am, navigating down Vista City’s main drag, turning at every stoplight that brings me closer and closer to Soleil Drive.
To Ty’s house.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
TY
I’m a charity guy now.At least Ramiel seems to think I am. He’s the one who pushed me to agree last minute to join the team promo today. Typically, these types of events are mandated for certain players, like captains and team veterans. We partner with the cheerleaders as a way for the Kings franchise to give back, to get locals excited about helping out around the city. Sometimes fans are even invited to join in, but today any type of promoting will be done through social media and local news outlets. Regardless of how relentless he is, I appreciate Rami refusing to let me fade into the background. I have a suspicion he might have stuck his neck out for me with Coach—again—so I could tag along. He even invited me to join him at a local school library event tomorrow, but I took a rain check on that one.
Today the team is cleaning up more than anything. In an hour we’ll be at Kings’ Kingdom Trail, gloves on, pokers in hand, stabbing up any debris sullying our finecity. The trail is a sprawling park in the center of the community dedicated to its favorite football team—the Kings. Ramiel swears the more team events I attend, the better social standing I’ll have. And I trust him. So here I am, getting ready to pick up trash, soaking in my last few free moments on what should be my break after our practice this morning.
