Page 34 of The Right Player
Enamored, completely swept away with thoughts of Paris and freedom and love.
I was only nine years old. I should have been in my room playing with my G.I. Joes or out learning how to surf with my best friend, Akamu.
Instead, I was leaned back against the foot of the couch, arms crossed, acting like I was annoyed and couldn’t wait for that movie to be over. But I loved every minute of it. And I’d watched it at least a dozen times since then.
But I realized before the first act was even over that none of those times would compare to this.
The costumes were dazzling and bright and luxurious, the stage design elaborate and magical. We weren’t just watching Moulin Rouge!, we were in Moulin Rouge! Every new song pulled me in, deeper and deeper, and all the while, Belle was there at my side, on the edge of her seat just as much as I was, both of us enraptured by the actors and actresses and dancers on stage.
But, as amazing as the show was, there was one little problem that kept us both from being fully immersed…
We were freezing.
The air was turned down to combat the summer heat, which — on a normal occasion — would be a blessed relief for a man in a suit and a woman in a ball gown. But as it was, we were still damp, and the longer we sat there, the more we shivered.
By the time intermission rolled around, my muscles were stiff from trembling so much, and Belle’s teeth were chattering enough to chew through a tree trunk.
“I’m going to run to the restroom,” she said. “And maybe hold my hands under the hot water for a solid two minutes.”
I chuckled. “I’ll grab us some wine.”
“Oh, good idea! That’ll help warm us up.”
We broke like two soldiers on a mission, me going one way and her the other.
I bought us a bottle of , along with some popcorn and chocolates. I was on my way back to our seats when I spotted the merchandise booth, and my eyes lit up at a particular item. I reached for my wallet again without a second thought, and with my new acquirements in tow, I headed back inside.
“Ohhhh, merlot,” Belle cooed when I rejoined her at the seats. “Man after my heart.”
I chuckled to hide the fact that yes, I was very much indeed after said heart. “Just wait until I show you what else I got.”
I unloaded each item one by one, Belle lighting up at the popcorn first, and then the chocolates. But I saved the best for last, pulling the two hoodies I’d draped over my shoulder up for her to see.
“Oh, my God,” she said, reaching for the smaller of the two and clutching it to her chest like it was a lifeline. “Where did you find these?!”
“Merch booth. Figured they could be a souvenir.”
“A very useful souvenir,” she said on a laugh, and in the next breath she had the hoodie pulled over her head. She sighed as the warmth surrounded her, and I was glad I bought the larger ones, because she tucked her knees up to her chest and covered her entire body with it. “Oh, my God, this is so much better.” She looked up at me. “Not all heroes wear capes.”
“Nope. This hero wears a hoodie that matches the damsel in distress.”
Belle laughed as I pulled on the other hoodie, and then I plopped down next to her, pouring us each a glass of wine and carefully nestling the bottle on the floor between us.
“So, I’ve started getting deliveries,” I said, cheersing her glass with mine.
“Oh?” She feigned innocence, but her eyes told me she knew exactly what had been delivered.
“Mm-hmm. I’m excited to see it all come together.”
“One room at a time, but we’ll get there,” she said, and then she bit her lip, cupping her hands around her wine glass. The hoodie was so oversized that it practically swallowed her, just her fingers poking out from the sleeves. “I have an idea for the sitting room.”
“Yeah?” I asked. We’d gone over plans for the bedroom, the living room, the kitchen and even the guest room. We were still trying to decide what to do with the extra space that could be an office or a workout area — mostly because I was keeping that space for football. Of course, I couldn’t exactly tell her that. At least, not yet.
“Well, I know you wanted to make it feel a little like home, right? And, well, with your love of wood… I was thinking…”
She bit her lip again, shaking her head as if for courage before she took out her phone and pulled up a vision board.
“What if we did a Polynesian theme with a Chicago flare? Here, let me show you what I mean.”
