Page 54 of The C*ck Down the Block

I let her go and went in search of Johnston. He was standing in his usual place near the barbecue grill, which was thankfully closed up for the night, and my dad was there with him. “Gentleman, nice night for a party.”

“Dad.” I gave him the usual handshake-half hug. “I didn’t know you were coming tonight.”

“Wouldn’t want to miss Trixie’s big coup. I donated a pair of Dragons season tickets.”

I whistled. The Denver State Dragons football season tickets were hard to come by. But I guess if you were the five-time national championship winning coach that they’d named their new stadium after, the university would give you whatever you wanted. “In your box?”

He chuckled and shook his head. “No. Wouldn’t want to end up hanging out with some dickheads I don’t know all season. They’ll get midfield and like it.”

My dad kept his circle of trust just about as tight as I did. He was the one who suggested I start buying up the homes in our neighborhood as they came available. A real estate investment, he’d said. But he liked that we could have a say about who lived near us, and who couldn’t, just as much as I did.

It had worked out perfectly when Trixie had moved back to town and found out the house she grew up in was available to rent. Right next door to me.

“They will indeed. I’m sure that will be a big-ticket item tonight. Lots of DSU fans around.”

“I might bid on those,” Johnston said. “Don’t let it get out, but Marie loves college football more than professional. She is a Husker, after all.”

“Then the tickets are for every game except the one against Nebraska.” My dad had a long-standing rivalry with the Cornhuskers. Especially since they’d won the National Championship the year he hadn’t.

Johnston laughed. “Go Big Red.”

The guests started arriving, and I kept my eye on Trixie first, and the entrance to the backyard second. I wanted to know the second Rachel walked in so I could see her face. She might think she was a Queen Bee, but she was no cowgirl.

The crowds filed in, and Trixie got up on the stage to welcome everyone. Still no Rachel. Was the bitch actually going to skip out? She probably couldn’t take how badass this whole thing Trixie had pulled off was going to be.

Well, good riddance to her.

“Hello, my fellow alumni of St. Ambrose and special guests. I’m pleased to welcome you to this year’s Honeybee Fundraiser.”

There were claps all around, and the crowd seemed genuinely excited. For most of them, this was their chance to meet some local celebrities, and there were some pretty damn cool prizes that had been donated. I’d probably bid on a few. I wouldn’t mind taking Trixie on that Vegas trip just so we could have obnoxiously loud hotel sex without the consequence of my entire family hearing.

“Special thanks to Johnston and Marie Manniway for hosting us, and my personal thanks to her and the wives and girlfriends of the Mustangs for their help this week in organizing.” More applause, then she got the main event started. “Please welcome Marie as our first auctioneer of the night.”

Marie stepped up to the stage, gave her wave and smile, and waited patiently for the applause and the camera clicks and flashes to die down, and she presented the first item of the night. While she did an excellent job of cajoling the attendees into raising their bids, Trixie made her way back to where I was standing.

“Did I do all right? I was so nervous.” She smoothed her hair and her dress, even though nothing was out of place. “There are way more people here than I expected. I think the entire class came and they all brought a guest.”

I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her to my side and kept her there. “You were great. This is all everyone will be talking about for years, I’m sure.”

Everett finally showed up, fashionably late. “Hey, Trix. This place is hopping. Now show me who your single classmates are. I do love that Catholic girl school vibe. So many opportunities for debauchery.”

“I don’t really know who’s married or has partners.” Trixie laughed and shook her head, shrugging. “I haven’t really kept up with most of them. I’m only here because Lulu made me be on the committee.”

“Gimme your phone then. I’ll just lightly peruse your FaceSpace.” He held out his hand like Trix would actually give him her phone. I smacked him hard enough that he had to shake his hand out.

“Oh, sorry. Can’t. I deleted it. I was getting too many weird messages.”

“Fine, you two are no fun. I’d be less bored hanging around with grumpy butt.” He jerked his chin toward Declan, who was surrounded by a group of women with that fawning-over-a-football-player aura about them. “Damn. How’d he do that so fast? I’d better get in there before he does something dumb like growl and scare them all away.”

Looked to me like Ev had gotten his groove back this week.

“Did you delete your account because of me?” Maybe Maguire was right about his PR team and the media training thing for Trix. I hadn’t brought it up yet, but this was the first she’d mentioned about weird messages.

“Yes, but it’s okay, I really didn’t go on there much anyway. I’m more of an Insta girl, and those DMs are way easier to lock down.”

“I’m up next to auction off the next item. It’s your Mile High workout with the Quarterback prize.”

After the physical donations we’d made went not so mysteriously missing, Trixie had suggested experiences for the auction instead. She came up with the idea of an insider’s access tour of the stadium and a chance to work out with me. Sounded easy to me.

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