Page 7 of Glitz & Goals

He has a point. And he’s definitely getting five stars for getting me to the arena without a single comment about my fishy nethers.

My luck doesn’t hold. I shuffle-hop into the back entrance of the arena, only to be met with stares and snickers from the Venom players.

“Nice outfit.” Viktor, my little brother, smirks. “You’re a real trendsetter.”

I flip him the bird. “Stuff it, twerp. I know the things you used to wear as a kid. Because I dressed you up in them.”

Knight, one of the kids who grew up in our neighborhood, offers me a genuine grin. “You look great, Viv. New gig?”

“It’s part of the new show at the Mona Lisa,” I tell him. I guess I shouldn’t call Knight a kid, given that he’s engaged to Sofia Rossi now, but I can’t look at him without feeling old. According to my Dad, the Venom is family, which means I’ve acted as their older sister since half of them were born. Heck,I’ve babysat most of them. I ignore the stares of the guys I don’t know as well and focus on one face I wasn’t expecting. Camden Beck greets me with an unsmiling wave.

“Hey, Viv,” he says. “Is that your dad’s bag?”

I nod and hold out the bag in question. “I got here as fast as I could.”

“Thanks.” He takes it from me. “I’ll get it to him. He was worried.” With that, he turns away.

Huh. I wonder what his deal is? I don’t remember him being so quiet, but he and his parents started moving around a lot for Stella’s photoshoots when he was pretty young, so I went years without seeing him much. He just moved back to Vegas for this season, but he doesn’t seem thrilled.

I make a mental note to look out for him since he doesn’t have any biological family to fall back on—only the Venom family.

“Where are you headed next?” Viktor teases. “The oyster bar?”

I sock him in the shoulder, and he whines. “Ha ha. How come Camden’s being more helpful than you are?”

Knight smirks and pushes a lock of black hair out of his eyes. “Because he’s afraid that if he looks too competent, we’ll expect him to start pulling his weight on the ice.”

A few of the other guys snort, and they start tussling, and I am officially out. I need to get this tail off, and there’s no way in hell I’m crawling out of it in front of a bunch of hornball hockey players. I shake my head at their antics and shuffle off toward the offices in search of Renee, the team publicist and the one woman who can reliably be found in the arena. I’m just glad there’s an elevator, because I was not looking forward to floppingupthe stairs, like salmon swimming upstream for spawning. I still have some vestige of pride left, small though it may be.

Renee is in her office, thank God, and she lets out a bark of incredulous laughter when she sees me. “Do I evenwantto know?”

“Long story. Ask Dante.” I wave her out into the hall. “Can you give me a hand?”

Unfortunately, Renee has even less luck with the zipper than I do. She grunts and groans as she wrestles with it. “Damn. How the hell did your mom get you into this?”

I brace my hands against the wall. “She’s stronger than she looks.”

A few minutes of messing around yield no results, and my patience isthisclose to fraying. If I don’t leave pretty soon, I’m going to be late getting this to the performer for today’s dress rehearsals, which means one less day to double-check my work, which means it’s that muchmorelikely that something will go wrong at an actual performance…

Deep breaths,I tell myself, although my arms have started to shake as my catastrophizing takes over.You’re not going to be stuck in this costume forever.You can always cut yourself out of it if push comes to shove.

Of course, then I’ll be forced to start from scratch, but this is show business. If something isn’t going wrong, it’s only a matter of time. I’d rather deal with this now than between live shows.

Renee’s phone rings from inside her office. Her hands drop from the zipper. “I’m sorry, Viv. I’ve gotta take this. I’m not making any headway.”

“It’s okay,” I say, keeping my tone light. “This isn’t your job. I appreciate the help.”

She shoots me one last guilty look before darting back into her office.

For a long moment, I stand there, breathing hard. I still have my duffle. Maybe I should just go to the venue and try hookingmyself up to the safety harness? There must be a way to salvage this.

I’m still pondering my options when I hear the squeak of soles on the cement. When I look up, there’s a guy standing in the hall, staring at me with his mouth open.

I don’t know this man.

He’s hot as hell. Chiseled jawline with just the right amount of beard growth. Intense blue eyes that pin me in place. Dark hair, tousled like he just ran his fingers through it. Broad shoulders. Thick forearms. The kind of presence that fills a room without even trying.

Definitely too old to be a player. Younger than my dad. Maybe a scout. Maybe something even more dangerous—like the kind of trouble I wish I had the time to get into.

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