“Yep,” Drew answers for me. “Fiona Mackenzie. Ivy’s little sister.”
“The cute blonde who took her dress of at the wedding?” Johnson’s expression borders on a leer.
“Hey,” I warn. “Just wipe that right the fuck out of your memory.”
Drew shakes his head. “See? Gone on her already.”
I drink my water and endure a round of kissing noises. “You kids done?”
Johnson wags his tongue in a lewd manner. “Now I’m done.”
“Bunch of juveniles,” I mutter. But I’m not mad. I’ve missed this. I missed my guys.
Rolondo frowns. “If you’re with Fiona now, this whole virgin-hunt thing goes out the door.”
“No,” I say with force. “I don’t want Fi anywhere near this. The press does not get a piece of her.”
“I respect that,” Rolondo says. “But you gotta know that what you want and what the public takes are two different things, my friend.”
Unfortunately, he’s right. I hate the fear creeping over my shoulders. There are things I can’t protect Fiona from, and it frustrates the hell out of me.
We eat dinner and gossip. I’m not afraid to admit it’s pure gossip: who’s done what knuckle-headed thing, which coaches suck, which don’t.
And of course, war stories. How we’ve manned up in the face of pain and adversity and made spectacular plays, which are always ten times more impressive in the retelling, as if we don’t all watch Sports Center highlights and know when one of us is lying out of his ass.
By the time the waiter slides a dessert that consists of chocolate in five different forms in front of me, I’m almost normal again.
Johnson scowls at his plate. “It’s so tiny. Everything here is tiny.”
“It’s gourmet,” Rolondo says, picking up his spoon.
“Who picked this place, anyway?” Johnson complains.
“I did.” I slide a spoonful of dark chocolate mousse into my mouth and almost groan. Damn. Fi needs to come here with me. And like that, I’m missing her again. I ignore the emotion and glare at my guys. “It’s delicious. Just order another one if you’re still hungry.”
Rolondo just laughs and eats while Johnson mutters about me being some sort of metrosexual.
“Lumbersexual,” I counter, getting a look of horror from Johnson. I shrug. “That’s what Fi says, anyway.”
“Why would she say you like having sex with lumberjacks?” Johnson asks with a confused frown.
Rolondo throws a napkin at his head. “Man, you don’t know jack about jack.”
“Lumberjacks?”
We all groan.
Except Drew, who doesn’t say a word. He hasn’t even noticed his dessert. He’s way too fidgety and practically glued to his phone screen, which isn’t like him.
“Why do you keep looking at your phone?” I ask him. “Shit, is there more bad press? Am I now up for grabs for both sexes?”
“I’d do you,” Rolondo puts in with a grin.
“You’re too high-maintenance for me.”
“This is true.” ‘Londo nods and looks me over. “I’d most definitely make you shave that beard. I’m not into bears.”
I shrug. “We were never meant to be.”
Johnson rolls his eyes. “I don’t care if I sound like a dick. This whole exchange is bizarre.”
“You always sound like a dick,” Rolondo says. “So we’re used to it.”
He ducks a chunk of bread Johnson pings at him. An older couple across the way turns to stare.
“Ladies,” I say mildly, “mind your manners. This isn’t the college bar.”
“Yes, Mom.” Johnson sits back and looks around. “Why is it that we aren’t in a bar? I mean, yeah, we got money now. But this place is making my shoulders itch.”
“I’m checking the place out,” I tell them. “It’s for sale, and Gray, Drew, and I are thinking about investing in restaurants.”
“Seriously?” Johnson looks surprised.
“We need something to fall back on. We aren’t going to play forever.”