Page 46 of A Very No Strings Halloween
“Hello, Mrs. Decker.” She approaches us, and I get up to shake her hand. “Nice to see you. Give my best to your husband.”
“Please stop trolling him on X.”
“I’m pretty sure he loves it. This is Donna Fischer, my…neighbor.”
“Neighbor? So that’s what people are calling it nowadays. Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Fischer.”
“Likewise. Congrats on the season so far. I hear you have a winning record, even though your team stinks.” She cups her mouth and chants, “Lightning! Lightning!”
“Ahh, a Phillies fan. Yes, we’re five and one. You’d think that would get people to cut me some slack on social media…” Hannah raises a brow at me. I have indeed been critical of her moves in the past, especially one that concerned our former star quarterback who is now her husband.
“Hey, don’t look at me—I’m comin’ around. Dash has been an absolute beast.”
“He has indeed. I hope I’m not bothering you, but I figured we could chat about our involvement with your venture.”
“Uh, yeah, of course. Donna, would you excuse us?”
“Of course. Pleasure meeting you, Ms. Decker.”
“Likewise.”
I pull Hannah aside. I can explain away a lot of stuff. Access to a luxury box. Access to an unlimited supply of costumes and props. Access to all the time in the world to play with her and fix up her house. But explaining why I would have business with an NFL franchise would be tough to pin on “knowing a guy.”
We talk about a sponsorship deal and having some of Hannah’s players at the Make-A-Wish event next month. This lady might think I’m a buffoon for trolling her and her husband, but she knows a good business move when she sees one.
We shake on it. “Sounds good. My people will be in touch with your people.”
Hannah turns to leave, then takes a step back and leans in, lowering her voice. “You know, Mr. Boston, since you’re always offering me unsolicited advice on social media, why don’t I offer you some too.”
“Go on.”
“Don’t wait to secure a deal. You have something good, someone thatwould make a strong team, then make it happen. Because if they’re a free agent, it’s incredibly easy to lose them to someone else.”
I nod. “I hear you.”
“Enjoy the second half, Mr. Boston.”
“Likewise. Go Tommies!”
“Go Tommies!” Mrs. Decker punches the air and exits with her staff.
I sit back down next to Donna.
“Hey,” Donna says. “What was she talking about? You’re doing business with them?”
“Oh, yeah, you know. Sports business and whatnot.”
She seems to buy that, but she’s looking at me funny. Like I’m a cute puppy or something.
The second half of the game starts. “You can head back down with your friends if you want,” she says to me.
“Nah. I’m where I want to be.” I look at Donna. Really look at her. And she looks at me. We aren’t pretending to be other people. We aren’t wearing costumes or pulling faces or covering how we feel. For a moment we’re just two people who have—whatever it is we have—between us.
I clear my throat. “So how am I doing, really? Decent date?”
“Yeah, it’s really good so far. So, if Iwereyour girl…” She gives a little shrug. “What would you do next?”
“Well, if you were my girl, you wouldn’t be wearing that godforsaken jersey.”
