Page 101 of Broken Hearts
“He’ll be okay,” she promises. “Give him time.”
She stands from the vanity in Reagan’s room. “How do I look?”
“Hot. The shoes are a nice touch, too.”
She kicks up one leg behind her, showing off the red Converse. Somehow paired with a short black dress, it works. Very Dakota.
“Reagan, hurry up in there!” Dakota yells toward the bathroom.
“My hair is not cooperating.” She emerges, spraying hairspray as she walks. “Is Ginny here yet?”
Dakota shakes her head. Her red hair is at full volume, framing her face in big curls. She plays with a strand, twisting it around her finger. “No, she’s meeting us there. Somehow she got roped into helping set up.”
“All right, then, I think we’re ready,” Reagan says and smiles, looking from me to Dakota. “We are some serious eye candy. Let’s take a photo.”
We cram together, cheesing at the camera, as Reagan snaps a dozen photos of us.
The party is thrown in front of University Hall. A large open tent is set up with a buffet line and bar. The Valley U dance team and cheerleaders are in attendance, as well as the roadrunner mascot. It has a wholeFriday Night Lightsvibe that I have to wonder isn’t more about the alumni and boosters than the team that just won a national championship.
The guys are set to make a grand entrance so Reagan, Dakota and I grab a drink from the bar and stand as far away from the cheering and dancing section as we can.
Servers in white tux jackets bring out hors d’oeuvres on shiny platters. Old guys stand in groups laughing and talking loudly.
“This is…” I start, not easily coming up with the word.
“Excessive,” Dakota says. “I feel like I made a wrong turn into a fortieth reunion class.”
“You guys.” Reagan stands taller in her red heels. She and Dakota nearly match with their red shoes and black dresses, but their styles are so different, no one would ever notice. “They won a national championship. They deserve excessive.”
“What they wanted was a kegger with drunk girls in skimpy outfits, not shrimp cocktail with old dudes.” Dakota downs her champagne.
“We should do that for them, then,” I say quickly but the more I think about it the more I like the idea. A do-over for Rhett to celebrate with his friends. I know it won’t change what happened, but maybe he’ll at least feel like he got one last hurrah in with his teammates.
“There they are,” Reagan says.
The three of us watch, along with everyone else, as they walk in. Music plays and the cheerleaders and dancers move into action making a path for them to a podium with a microphone.
“That’s Maverick’s dad,” Dakota whispers when a man steps up and welcomes everyone. “Or, I guess he’s Maverick Senior. Mr. Maverick. Weird.”
We chuckle together.
“How do you know?” I ask. “Have you met him?”
“Are you kidding? Just look at him.”
The man introduces Coach Meyers and then Dakota’s assumption is confirmed when Coach comes forward and thanks John Maverick for hosting the party tonight.
As he goes on thanking everyone, Ginny steps up beside us. “I thought they’d at least be in their jerseys.”
“You made it.” Reagan hugs her.
“I was on confetti duty.”
“Confetti?”
“You’ll see,” she says as the first pop sounds. Each of the cheerleaders has a confetti cannon in their hands and they go off each time a player is introduced.
“Look at Maverick. Holy crap,” Ginny says as his name is called. They’re all dressed similarly in dress pants and shirts, but Maverick is striking in a white button-up with rolled sleeves showing off some of his tattoos. His dark hair is styled, and he has a hard set to his jaw. Sophisticated and pissed is a good look for him, even if it makes me sad to see a unsmiling Maverick. His dad squeezes his shoulder with a proud look on his face.
