Page 33 of Second Down Fake

“You make stupid money,” she teased.

“I do. And I spend it on other stupid things, but not a palace. I’m more of a cryptocurrency and wildly expensive meat guy myself.”

Cassandra wrinkled her nose and pulled away. “Ew. Never mind about this dating thing. I can’t do it.”

“Is it the bitcoin or the wagyu beef tartar?”

“It’s the whole vibe. I thought you were a shitty dive bar and dinged up SUV guy.”

“And how does superstar NFL quarterback play into that vibe?” I asked, pulling up to the front entrance where two valets in dark suits waited.

“A secret identity,” she whispered, leaning across the console. “You’re just throwing everyone off the scent of being a basic frat bro.”

Cool air swept through the car as a valet opened the passenger door, holding out a hand for Cassandra to exit. I followed behind, tossing the keys to the other valet and taking the stairs two at a time to catch up with her. A woman in a black dress ushered us through the house and into the backyard. The party was already in full swing; the tables packed with bodies, and kids running through legs on their way to the bounce house and slide set up on the far end of the lawn.

A line of grills flanked one side of the pool, with cooks in white jackets piling food onto platters just as fast as the servers in their white button shirts and black slacks could carry it into the crowd. On the opposite side of the pool, two lines formed in front of full-service bars.

“Wow,” Cassandra breathed, taking my arm and stopping me from making it to the bar. “This is a lot of people. Do you know them all?”

“Almost everyone. There’s probably a couple of office staff people I’ve only met in passing, and family members, obviously.” I eyed her. “Are you nervous?”

She cut her eyes to me. “I tell people ghost stories and sling drinks for a living. Trust me, I’m not afraid of meeting some new people. It’s just a lot to take in.”

I knocked my shoulder into hers, ducking my head. “Let’s start with a drink and then we’ll make the rounds.”

“Are we allowed to drink together here?” Trent slid in between Cassandra and me as we waited in line at the bar.

He smacked my back, eyes drifting to Cassandra in an appreciative way that made me bristle.

“I hadn’t cleared a drink with Coach Simmons,” I ground out tersely. “But I think as long as we’re at his house, we’re good.”

Trent smirked. “Well, bad news, Cas. Diego can’t go with us to the club tonight.”

“You’re going to the club with him?” I hooked a thumb at Trent.

Cassandra’s cheeks turned red. “I said ‘maybe’ and thought you were invited.”

“He and I can’t go out together. It’s just you and me.” Trent wrapped his arm around her waist.

I smacked it away. “Not a chance. The last thing I need is you photographed with Cassandra and starting a love triangle rumor before the season even starts.”

“You used to be fun.”

“That was before your bullshit got me called into the principal’s office. If Cassandra wants to go out, I’ll take her. Besides, isn’t your roommate back in town?”

Frankie Vigil sauntered up behind Trent as if conjured, his skin tanned deep brown from a summer spent on the beach. He’d missed preseason, and I’d felt his absence like a lost limb. My first choice running back, I’d never played a game without Frankie in the NFL, but when his father needed emergency heart surgery just before the preseason started, he’d boarded a plane.

“Hey Vigil,” I held out a hand, shaking his hand and patting his back. “How’s your dad?”

“Good.” He said with a warm smile. “Mom told me to thank you for the flowers and the food. She sent me back with a cooler full of empanadas for you and some pasteles.”

“What’d she send for me?” Trent asked with a frown.

“I don’t remember seeing any flowers from you,” Frankie countered. “And you must be the mysterious Cassandra.”

Frankie turned his attention to Cassandra, greeting her with a hug that lasted a second too long.

Cassandra beamed at him when he pulled away. “I’m not sure if I’d consider myself mysterious, but I hope you only heard good things.”

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