“I saw a few of them, yeah. They were hard to miss, wearing their jersey’s and all.” I say. “Probably volunteering just to get good pictures.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, they were from the local baseball team. Arrogant and clearly full of themselves.” I roll my eyes.
“Would I have known anyone there?” he asks.
“Not sure. But daddy, you seem to know everyone, so yeah, probably.” I wink.
“Good, good. I’m glad that you had a good time. You know that I’m always thrilled to hear that you have a passion for helping others. I want to also let you know that tonight, we have dinner plans,” he announces.
With a wary look, I put my hands playfully on my hips. “What kind of dinner?”
“The kind of dinner that you put on a very expensive gown.”
“I just did charity yesterday, do I have to go?” I ask pouting. I hate these kinds of dinners. My face always hurts from the smiling, and they get so boring. I like doing things with my hands, not with my father’s checkbook.
“Yes, your plate has already been paid for. I also expect for you to bid on something there. You have my card. It looks good when you buy something.”
And there it is. Yes, buy something that means nothing to me, just to buy it and say we did.
“Daddy, I’m more than just about appearances.” I protest, hating how vain he can be.
“Darling, everyone judges based on something. If you stepped out of line, you would be judged because you’re my daughter. If I stepped out of line, I would be judged because I’m in politics first and a man second. It’s just the rough nature of how our lives are,” he explains.
I would rather not fight and get on with my day, so I put on a smile and nod.
“What time do I need to be ready?” I ask.
“The car will be picking us up at six.”
I’m wearing a wine-colored high neck gown with a natural waistline and a long train. My hair is styled so it is curled and cascading over my shoulder. The dress looks simple and elegant, with a hint of sexy from the high slit in front. I feel good, like I can move around, but still upscale enough to please my father.
Usually at these dinners, there’s a lot of socializing, so I put some Vaseline in my purse to assure that I’m prepared with smiles and don’t get a bad candid picture taken of me. Lord knows that Daddy would hate that.
As soon as we arrive at the opulent location, I trail behind my parents while they walk inside. I’m used to it. While I’m known throughout the city, I’m not always the one that reporters want to talk to. I don’t have the reputation like some kids in my position have. There’s this one guy, I think he’s the son of San Francisco’s mayor, whew boy, there was always rumors about him. The reporters would rather talk about the wildness of his life, than that of the politics of the mayor. My father would have a field day if that were me.
So, I remain the ever respectable daughter to the public.
It’s just in private, that I hope no one gets a gander of what I’m really like. But it’s not like I can naturally be me with anyone that I know. A little wild and a little more carefree.
I stop and smile for the cameras when it’s my time. Answer a few questions about my support for my father for re-election then, I’m on my way inside, still trailing behind my parents.
We’re on our way to our table, stopping every few feet to shake hands with someone, then my father leads us on. There are already a few people sitting in their seats. My father pulls out my seat for me, then scoots it in, and does the same to my mother a few seats away from me.
“Fancy seeing you here,” a deep voice says to me.
I freeze.
I know that voice. I look up and am stunned with the beautiful large man sitting next to me.
What are the odds?
Chapter 7
Grant
This isn’t my style of dinner.
First, aside from game days, I don’t wear suits, let alone one with a freaking bowtie.
Second, there’s more forks than I’ve ever seen on a place setting, and I just know that I’m going to use the wrong one, and embarrass myself and the owner of the team, who is sitting on my left.
Third, I like to eat with my hands. I don’t think that there will be finger food here.
What am I doing here?
Oh, that’s right? It would look good for my image if I were to attend some charity dinners along with volunteering. Show that I care about others aside from myself, yada, yada, yada.
Johnny, my agent also thinks that this is a smart move, for me to be seen doing better than bad. My career is just starting, and I can’t start out with fans on a sour note. That won’t sell tickets.
So, I accepted the invitation from the team owner to come tonight, to show good faith that I’m willing to act like a monkey and do as they say.
I look around the room and can already tell that these are not my people.
No, these are people who likely spend their time on massive yachts and vacationing somewhere exotic. They probably don’t know the first thing about working hard or what it’s like to not have any money at all.
Not me. I know all too well what that’s like. While I come from a loving home, I also come from a broken one. My dad left as soon as he could, forcing my mom to work all the time in order to keep the roof over our heads and food on the table. We survived, but just barely. I doubt that any of these people could relate to me. I’m sure that none of these people come from broken homes. I know that I’m judging everyone here, because they have money. I shake my head and free the negative thoughts from my mind.
Keep a smile on my face. Be the good guy, who is appreciative to rub elbows with some of these people. I hear that even the mayor will be here, that’s pretty fancy.
A moment later, something surprising happens and I’m instantly excited as I see the woman from the food bank trailing behind two others toward our table.
She looks beautiful, her long blonde hair is swept over her shoulder, and her dress hugs her body with a sexy slit up the front of her leg. My cock stirs in my pants, and I shut my eyes and take a few deep breaths to calm myself down. I like the dressed up version of her, just as much as I like the dressed down natural look she had the other morning.
She couldn’t be sitting with us, could she?
The man holds out the chair beside me and I grin. She has kept her eyes casted forward, a permanent smile on her face as she scoots into her seat as if she’s under a spell. She doesn’t really notice her surroundings and for that I’m glad.
“Fancy seeing you here,” I slightly lean into her and say.
She stills, looks up at me and her mouth drops open.
“You.” She whispers.
“Me. Hi, I’m—” She cuts me off.
“Grant, I remember. I’m—” My turn.
“Emily. How could I forget.” I smile as she blushes. “What brings you here?”
“Oh you know, they have killer steak here, I figured that I would drop by and grab a bite.” She says playfully.
“No, seriously. What are you doing here? Is this your sort of scene?” I ask, hoping that it’s not.
By her clothing yesterday, I wouldn’t have assumed that she would be mixed up with any of these types of people. The Richie’s of society.
“Well, it’s not entirely my scene. I really did just tag along for the food, not like I was given a choice.” She crosses her arms and leans on the table. “See this guy next to me? That’s my dad, he makes me come to these kinds of things.”
I look around her, I don’t recognize the guy, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not a nobody. Since he’s here at the table with the Seahawks owner.
“Okay, should I be impressed that he’s your dad?” I ask slowly.
“Really?” She looks shocked.
“How about this. Let’s not talk about what brought us here tonight. If you aren’t here with a date, I would love to be your stand in date. I don’t know an
yone here, except my boss and he’s busy schmoozing. So, I could really use a friend?” A friend, did I really just say that?
“Yeah, let’s do that.” She nods excitedly.
“Now, when do they serve dinner? I’m starving.”
We laughed and did a little dancing after we ate our meals. I walked around the space with her, which was more than a fancy hall, it was a museum and watched in shock as she bought a few pieces. The hefty price tags were more than I make in a month, but we promised to just enjoy one another’s company, so I asked no questions.
I like her. I enjoy her company. She’s easy to talk to and damn she’s fine.
When the night was closing, we stood outside on the balcony. There were people milling about, some definitely drunk and some keeping a watchful eye on us. I expect those people worked for her father, meaning that she had to be someone important. Just who is she and why don’t I know who she is?
“Thank you, for making tonight, not suck so bad,” she says with a smile.
“No, I think I need to be thanking you. If you didn’t come tonight, I would likely be sitting at the table and probably wouldn’t have said a word all night. I think that you showing up here tonight is kismet. Wouldn’t you agree?”
“I do have to say that it’s quite the coincidence.” She nods.
“Can I get your number?”
I couldn’t wait the full three days to call her. I was too excited to talk to her again, hell—it was meant to be that we saw one another, that I believe the three-day rule goes out the door in this case.
I am laying back on the couch, alone for the first time in days with my feet up on the arm of the couch.
The phone rings and I hold my breath waiting to hear her voice.
“Hello?” She answers.
“Hey. It’s Grant.”
“Grant, hi! I didn’t expect for you to call so soon.”
“Yeah, I figured that fate brought us together twice, why wait. I hope that’s okay?”
“Of course. I just thought that guys lived by the rules, it’s nice to know that you’re willing to break them.” I hear the smile in her voice.
“Oh darlin’, if you only knew. So, I was wondering, if you wanted to maybe go to the football game on Sunday?” I ask her.
“I don’t know much about football, but I’m always up for a good time. Sure. What time is the game? I’ll meet you there?”
“The game is at five. I’ll send you your ticket.”
“Sounds great. Hey Grant?”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t wait.”
Chapter 8
Emily
I snuck out of the house tonight, to go to the football game. I lied and told my parents that I had a migraine and that I would be turning in for the night. Which also means that I don’t have my detail trailing behind me and reporting my every move to my parents.
I used my ticket to get in and suddenly a big man with my name on a sign comes out of the rushing crowd going to their seats and escorts me through the stadium. It’s strange that Grant didn’t meet me at the gates, but I guess that’s okay. I’m curious as to how he has this level of power for me to have a personal escort, but those questions can wait until later as I’m led out of the general seating and through a hallway that looks hidden to the naked eye. We pass by several doors, then the man swipes a key and hands it to me.
“Your personal key, courtesy of Mr. Toolson,” he says.
“Mr. Toolson?” I question.
“Grant Toolson.” He replies.
I nod in understanding and take the key from him. Still unclear of what’s happening.
“Don’t lose the key. It is yours for this game and future games.”
“Okay. Thank you.” I enter inside the room and am amazed that this space is within the Seahawk stadium.
There are a few women hanging around along with several men. None of them pay me any attention as I walk in. I look around for Grant, but I don’t see him yet.
Maybe he’s running late.
The stadium lights go low and the announcer starts talking. I look around the space, still no Grant. The starting lineup is flashed on the screen. I wasn’t lying when I told Grant that I knew very little about football, none of these guys look familiar as their names are called.
“Number 24, Cornerback, Graaaaaaant Toooooooolson!” The announcer yells.
Wait, what? This has to be some kind of joke. I look up at the screen and there is his face, large for everyone to see. That’s Grant. Grant is a football player? Oh wow, this suddenly got a little more interesting.
“You didn’t tell me that I was coming out tonight to watch you play, in professional football. You just said, ‘hey wanna go to a football game?’” I push his shoulder.
He bought me a jersey that he had sent up during half-time, and I decided to change into it for kicks. He tugged on the arm sleeve and grinned.
“We weren’t talking about who we were, remember. You didn’t exactly ask any questions.”
“Yet, here you are. Pretty much parading yourself. I mean look, I’m wearing a shirt, and your name is on the back of it.” I turn around and point at my back.
“Yeah, I like my name and number on you.” He grins.
“Arrogant ass.” I smile.
“Would you like to grab a late dinner?” He asks slinging his arm around my shoulder nonchalantly.
“I would love to.” I say liking the closeness and comfortability of being around him, even though he is who he is.
We climb into his truck in the player parking lot and Grant drives through the area. He pulls into a parking space in front of a local eatery, then turns to look at me.
“Now that you’ve put two and two together, I’m a football player, are you okay with that?” he asks.
I nod. “As long as you’re okay with being with me,” I tell him.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“You still don’t know who I am, do you?” I smile, enjoying the clandestine manner of him not knowing who I am. But, just like his identity, mine should come out too. Especially, if this becomes a real relationship.
“Are you a local musician?”
I laugh. “I wish I was able to play an instrument. I could barely play the recorder as a kid.”
“You’re not a reporter, are you?” His face contorts.
“God no.” I shake my head and return the look that he gave me.
“Well, don’t leave me hanging.” He laughs.
“So, you remember the night at the dinner earlier this week, well I came with my parents. I sat next to my father, the mayor of Seattle.”
“Your dad is the mayor?” His eyes go wide.
“Yeah,” I smile and then wave my hands “surprise!” He shakes his head and laughs.
“Well then, looks like we’re going to make a fun pair. That means we need to combine our names. How about Gra-em, or Mastertool?”
I playfully shove his shoulder, but his arm is secured around my shoulder and he’s so muscular that he barely budges.
“You ready to go inside?” he asks.
“Can we get a seat kind of in the back, I want to keep a low profile, just in case.”
“In case of what?” He asks. “Are you afraid to be seen with me?”
“No, that’s not it at all. I kind of snuck out of the house tonight, lied and said I had a headache. If someone takes a picture of us and I’m identified, I would get in trouble.”
“You still live at home?”
“Unfortunately.” I mutter.
He gets out of the truck and comes to my side to open the door. He offers me his hand and I take it as we walk inside and directly to the back of the establishment then we slide into the booth.
A moment later, our menus are placed in front of us with some waters.
“Hey you, good game tonight.” The waitress says.
“Thanks,” he smiles.
“Want your usual?” She asks.
“No, I’ll stick with water
tonight,” he looks at me. “Do you want anything to drink?”
I shake my head and continue looking at the menu as the waitress walks away.
“You have a usual here?” I ask.
“Yeah. I get a Red Trolley beer, then I get potato skins and a burger. I tend to carb load a little after games. What kind of food do you like to eat?” he asks.
“A little bit of this and a little bit of that. It depends on where I am.”
“Okay, so being here, in the back of a hipster tavern, what would you eat?”
“I would have to say that I’m debating against pizza or a cheeseburger salad.”
“Why not just a cheeseburger?”
“No bread,” I reply.
“No bread?” he questions.
“Yeah, the consistency of bread sometimes grosses me out.”
“But you’ll eat pizza?”
“I can’t explain it, but I can tell you that pizza is delicious. I think that I’ll get pizza. You talked me into it.”
He laughs.
“So, Mayor’s daughter.”
“So, Football player.”
“Want to do something wild?” he wiggles his eyebrows.
Chapter 9
Emily
We sneak into the stadium and he gives me a personal tour of the facilities before we head out onto the field to play catch. When I was here earlier, I felt rushed walking through here and didn’t take the time to appreciate the large space. Football stadiums are home to the fans and players. While it’s clean and silent now that the crowds have gone home, the place looks so expansive and impressive.
I’m not a football fan, but even I can admit how cool this is.
And it was, until security came onto the field and nearly had us arrested. It took about five minutes for them to believe that Grant is who he was saying he was, and they swiftly let us out with a firm shake of the fist and shake of the head.
Rookie Moves: A Quick Snap Novella Page 3