"And the certainty is…?"
"That it absolutely will turn into a puppy riot," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "And it's going to be glorious, viral, and Tess will turn it into gold for Wild Sacks and the Stallions."
"You're taming this circus like it's your day job," he said, gesturing to the… well, everything.
"It is my day job," Piper said, scribbling on her clipboard without looking down. "Tess wants viral gold, but since puppies don't follow scripts, I'm hoping they're good with adlibbing. Our star quarterback, on the other hand…" She trailed off, giving a pointed look toward the center of the field where Drake was being delightfully mauled by a whole pile of mutts.
"I'll take that." Piper took the dress. "And put it in the changing tent for safe keeping."
"No dogs allowed in the changing tent?"
"I mean, no actual canines I have to worry about marking it by lifting their leg," she said with a laugh as she backed away with the gown in hand.
Around him, the field buzzed, players' abs lit by stadium lights, rocking Wild Sacks briefs in various bold colors, clutching wiggling rescue puppies.
A massive lineman was cooing in a surprisingly high-pitched voice at a chihuahua mix that fit in his palm, while a lightning-fast receiver was patiently trying to teach a beagle-mix to run a perfect post-route, his commands punctuated by yips and a wildly wagging tail
It was a beautiful, ridiculous potential disaster or potential future for him in the making.
Yeah, it was going to be the big break he needed.
Babushka, Peggy, and their friend Etta were on puppy duty near the kennels. They'd brought a few friends along, all floral prints and orthopedic sneakers galore.
Everyone whispered together like they were plotting a touchdown or a world takeover.
Zach could just make out Etta's declaration: "The little one with the spots has the soul of a dancer. He needs a sequin."
Tess paced by the 50-yard line, phone pressed to her ear, her voice sharp with vision. "Viral, people. I want tears. I want joy. Get the shots."
Zach scanned the sidelines, and a familiar jolt of warmth and slight panic hit him square in the chest. Anna, Mom, Heather, and Sadie lounged on sideline chairs, out of the fray but present enough to watch, sipping from stadium cups. There was no way they were gonna miss this.
At least that's what Mom said when she announced they'd all be there for support. What that really meant was 'forensic analysis of Zach's new relationship,' but he loved them for it, anyway.
What he hadn't expected was his dad tagging along, too.
Dad wasn't sitting off to the side with the others. No, he was standing near the edge of the field, arms crossed, with a funny smile on his face.
Not his usual polite, reserved smile.
It took a beat for Zach to realize his dad wasn't watching the football players or the spectacle; he was staring right at him. And Zach was suddenly ten years old again, holding up a blue-ribbon science project, waiting for this exact look and getting a simple, "Good work, son."
The approval had always been a ghost. Now, here it was, solid and real across a football field, and Zach had no idea what to do with it.
Drake, front and center, adjusted his Flagship Black briefs, smirking like he'd thrown a game-winner. He handed a golden retriever puppy to a production assistant with the casual air of a guy who played the field even in his underwear.
"Zach." Tess spotted him, her PR grin blazing as she strode over. "Perfect. We're taping Drake's interview first, talking about community, adoption, and the unparalleled support of your briefs."
"Bold," Zach said, catching Piper's gaze. Their new secret language, a silent commentary on the absurdity of it all that made him feel like they were the only two people in on the joke. "Hope you've got a leash for this madness."
Piper snorted, scribbling again. "Spit, prayers, and a spreadsheet. The holy trinity of event production. Tess wants Oscars; I'm aiming for no lawsuits."
As if on cue, a terrier-mix—the "new beginnings" pick for the rookie—bolted from the pen, trailing a Wild Sacks bandana like a cape.
Etta dove for him, her sequined jacket gleaming under the lights, yelling, "Get back here, you tiny terror! You have not been emotionally prepared for fame!"
The crew howled with laughter, but Piper, without missing a beat, moved with fluid grace, snagging the pup mid-stride and scooping him into her arms. The terrier immediately started licking her chin, his rebellion totally forgotten.
Yeah, Zach understood how that went. He'd been there, too.
