Page 43 of Vegas Heat

“Hey, it’s Twenty-One!” he answers. “What’s going on, man?”

I kick my feet up on the handrail on my patio as I let out a chuckle. “I gave my notice at my job today. My boss would like me to hang around a bit to help train my replacement, but I’ll be there September first as promised.”

“September first. Great. I’ll throw a party here at the club,” he says, indicating he’s there right now.

“Maybe just at your place,” I suggest. “I need a few things from you first, though.”

“Name it,” he says.

“A real estate agent, for one. I’m booking a flight out for next weekend to look at places.”

“Done. I’ll text you my strongest recommendation. What else?” he asks.

“Well, if I can’t find a place in time, I’ll need somewhere to live,” I say.

“You’re welcome to stay with me until you figure out where you want to settle.”

I pull my feet off the handrail and push to a stand. “You sure?”

“Of course. What else do you need?”

“Well, since you’re asking, my boss could use some extra hands at StrongFitKids. You know anybody who can help her out?” I ask. “She needs someone who knows something about athletics in San Diego, and my friend working out of Vegas could use some local help there, too.”

“I have a few buddies who retired to the area that might be able to help in San Diego, and I have a daughter who might be interested in helping in Vegas,” he says.

My brows dip. “You have a daughter?” I had no idea, and we’ve been friends for years. But he does seem like the kind of guy who keeps his personal life close to the vest.

Except for sex, of course, which he possibly performs in public on the third floor of his club.

I’m not here to judge anybody who likes to partake in that particular brand of fruit punch, but it’s not my beverage of choice.

He chuckles. “Yeah, I do. She’s smart, too. So much smarter than me.”

“She’d have to be if I’d even consider passing her name along to my boss.”

He barks out a laugh. “Fuck off. I’ll talk to her and see if she’s interested. Any other requests, Twenty-One?”

“That’s all I got for now, boss, but I’m sure I can come up with more soon.”

“Great. Now get your ass to Vegas. We have a team to build at the draft mid-November after the World Series, and we have workouts to start.”

I grin. “Yes sir.” I hang up as excitement permeates my chest that he wants me to be a part of the team build. It’ll be as much my team as it is his, and there’s already a sense of pride in that.

I dial up Gabby next for our nightly chat.

“Hey there Hottie McCuteStuff,” she answers, and I laugh.

“Hottie McCuteStuff?” I repeat.

“You should’ve heard all the names that raced through my head when I first saw you at that blackjack table,” she admits.

“I only had one thought in my head when you sat down,” I say, sitting back down and kicking my feet back up on the railing.

“Oh? What was that?”

I mimic a robotic voice when I answer. “Hot girl alert! Hot girl alert! Need to get inside her now.”

“The voice in your head sounds like a robot?”

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