Page 42 of Lovetown, USA
“Then…what’s the problem?”
I tilt my head and stare at her, irritated when she stares right back, eagerly awaiting my answer.
“I don’t know,” I say truthfully. “This place is weird, and I feel like my career is hinging on this. I just…I don’t like that feeling.”
“Well, nobody told you to—“
“Nadia!”
“Okay, okay. Sorry.” She tilts her head in sympathy. “Still too soon.”
She doesn’t take anything seriously. It’s irritating sometimes.
“I’m gonna go,” I say.
“Have fun. I’m serious. Enjoy yourself. I love you.”
“Mm hm. Love you, too.”
I end the call and stare at my reflection, giving myself a final once-over. Tight white jeans, a white v-neck tee, and my LV crossbody. I look casually sexy, which I was aiming for. I don’t know who all gon’ be there, but I need to be ready just in case.
Apparently Lovetown has one stadium, which is really an amphitheater, and that’s where this game is. They’ve blocked off one side for the game attendees and the other for press. I guess I’m the latter, but I’m not sitting over there with the one old guy from the two-page newsletter this town calls a newspaper.
I pack in on the bleachers with the rest of the fans. It’s buzzing with people greeting each other, talking, gossiping, catching up. Kids dart this way and that. My nose detects the smell of popcorn, and my eyes are assaulted with pink and red everything. And there’s way too much glitter.
I’m in hell.
But I have my iPad. I’m ready to work. Ready to dig myself out of this fucking hole if it’s the last thing I do.
I’m scanning the players warming up when I spot Deacon. He’s stretching, then dribbling down the court like this is the NBA all star game and not a small-town charity event.
I make a note of that.
When he sees me, his grin is instant, and I remember how handsome he is. He jogs over, sweat already darkening his white jersey.
“Hey, beautiful.”
I stare up at him and smile. “Hey. I didn’t know you were playing.”
“I didn’t know you were coming.” He nods at someone behind me. “You never called me back.”
“I’ve been super busy,” I say, even though ‘I forgot’ would be faster and truer.
“We need to schedule our date.”
“Right, right. The bingo date.”
He nods. “Can I lock you in for Friday?”
“Yeah, let’s do it. Friday,” I hear myself say, as if my mouth and brain have no connection.
He beams. “Perfect. It’s a date.” Then he jogs back to his team, tossing me one last smile before he returns to his warmups.
Well, shit. I guess I’m going on a date.
I scribble a little note about that interaction, then glance across the court, my eyes locking right on Trey. I hide my surprise, look away, then look back to find him still staring.His expression is unreadable, but he finally raises his hand and waves. I return the gesture, waiting for a smile that never comes. For one quick second, I wonder if he’s jealous of Deacon, but then I tell myself not to be ridiculous—he’s probably just in game mode.
The murmurs of the crowd snap me back to reality and alert me to the incoming presence of Mayor Daphne. She struts out for the ceremonial ball toss looking like she just stepped off the pages of Vogue. Scamming does a body good. Does a wardrobe good, too, I see. Homegirl is eating in that charcoal grey dress and them patent leather red bottoms.
