Page 98 of Back in Black

He leaned closer to her. “The gist of it is that they love me as is. They don’t want me to change.”

“I see that.” Awe sounded in her tone. Wide-eyed and disbelieving, she turned back to him. “We’ll get mobbed trying to get into the building.”

“Nah. They’re all very civilized.”

“You’re taking this”—she gestured toward the friendly mob—“in stride, too, I suppose?”

“ ’Course I am.”

As he got out and walked around to her side of the car, she gathered together her papers. The second he opened her door, she said, “You’ve seen this before?”

“Picket lines are nothing new, both friendly and otherwise. Every time we go to a new area, it’s a process of education. The politicians fuel fear by claiming that we don’t have rules, that we’ll put on a bloodbath complete with deaths, that we might even see the end of civilization if the SBC is allowed to perform. But the people always counter that.” He gestured at the men and women, of all ages, who protested Fran and Loren’s stance. “The fans know the truth of things.”

“And they love you.”

“They love the sport. And I’m a part of it.” Grinning, he took her arm. “Come on. Time to put on your happy face and reassure everyone that MMA isn’t going anywhere.”

For ten minutes they were held up as Drew stood for photographs, signed shirts, laughed and joked. No way in hell would he tell the fans that he might be forced into joining a different organization—unless Fran didn’t back down. These people wanted reassurance, and he gave it while dodging direct statements.

By the time they got into the building and on an elevator, Gillian was harried, and he felt damn good about everything.

With one hand splayed over her heart, she said, “That was amazing.”

“Yeah.” He stood with his arm around her. “Ilovethat shit, I really do.”

She abandoned her heart to pat his abdomen. “It’s nice to have that additional aspect of fan support for our arguments. But Drew, don’t start getting cocky. I meant what I said. I want you on your best behavior . . . no, wait. Scratch that. I want you onbetterbehavior than your best has ever been. Am I clear on this?”

He gave her a squeeze for her earnest intentions. “Makes you wonder how I got this far without you, huh?”

Her hand knotted in his shirt. “I won’t allow you to embarrass me with obnoxious rudeness. If you do, I’m walking out and that’s that.”

The elevator dinged at the top floor. “Got it. Mind my manners or you’re going to be cross. No problem.” At the moment, he felt too good to let threats bug him.

They left the elevator and crossed the hall to Fran’s office. She had a massive suite of rooms that overlooked the Strip. In the evening, the lights made for a truly impressive show.

Drew strolled into the outer office with Gillian and politely waited while she informed the assistant of their arrival.

Neither of them sat, and within a minute an assistant showed them into Fran’s office.

Loren rose from a padded black leather wing chair off to the side, and Fran came out from behind her desk.

The mood was solemn, tense. Screw that.

Before greetings could be spoken, Drew said, “You’ve got some outraged fans out there. And I hear they’ve been calling, e-mailing, clogging the message boards, all in all kicking up a fuss.” He grinned, ignoring Gillian’s shock as she went rigid beside him. “Now the ball is in your court. And Frannie, despite appearances, I’m sure you remember what to do with a ball, right?”

SHOCKED silence clogged the room. Gillian locked her teeth and her knees, and then she elbowed Drew. Hard.

Her aim was good—right in the guts.

He oomphed, bent forward, and wheezed, “Damn, woman. A simple ‘Shut up, Drew’ would have sufficed.”

Fran and Loren stared in slack-jawed amazement.

Gillian said, “Fine.Shut up, Drew.” Composing herself, she smoothed her hair, hitched her purse strap over her shoulder, and started over. Smile bright, she said, “Fran, Loren. Thanks for agreeing to see us.”

Fran eyed Drew as he grumbled and rubbed his midsection. She had a difficult time pulling her gaze from him but finally managed to give Gillian her attention. “No problem. I wanted to speak with both of you anyway.”

Loren coughed. “Why don’t we sit down?”

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