The smell of prime rib and money hits me in the face as we enter the owner’s suite. It’s bigger than the other stadium boxes and furnished in leather and dark wood. It reminds me of a cigar bar, but there is of course no smoking allowed.
On the far side of the room are windows that look out onto the field with plush stadium seats lined up three rows deep. Two large-screen TVs are mounted on either side of the suite. There’s a long table loaded with five-star restaurant quality food. The light glimmers off the liquor bottles behind the small bar set up in the corner, making the whole display look like a boozy fairyland.
There are eight people in the suite with us. They’re all standing while the national anthem plays. The beauty queen and I stop where we are until the song is over before moving further into the room.
“Cash, it’s amazing to see you.” April Zimmerman, the wife of the Thunder’s owner, approaches with her arms extended. She’s in her mid-fifties but looks ten years younger.
I drop my arm from around Tiger’s shoulder to accept her embrace. “April, it’s great to see you too. If you were any more beautiful, I couldn’t stand it.”
She laughs and slaps my arm. “Save it for someone who’ll buy that load of bullshit you’re peddling, King.”
I laugh too. “You know you look like a million bucks.”
She lightly runs her fingers over her blonde hair. “I better, for what I spend to look like this.”
My hand rests on the small of Tiger’s back. “April, this is Tiger Lyons. Tiger, this is April Zimmerman. She’s married to Kyle Zimmerman, the owner of the Thunder.”
“Oh, my Lord, you’re gorgeous. But I don’t know why I expect anything less from our Cash.” April extends her hand. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
“Nice to meet you, April.” Tiger is as rigid as a board, and the pleasant expression on her face is as unnatural as the toupee Joe wears for special occasions. Nobody but me would probably see it, but I know all her looks, and this one is as fake as a three-dollar bill.
“Seriously, your skin is amazing. You could be a movie star.”
“Thank you.” She glances to me with a make it stop plea.
I know it bothers her, but she is beautiful, and I don’t know what it hurts for people to notice that about her. It’s not like she can hide it. But I step in all the same. “Looks like you’ve got a good group today.”
April gestures to the others in the room. “Come on and let me introduce you before kickoff. If I wait, then Kyle won’t even know I’m talking.”
She leads us to the group of people mingling by the seats. “Kyle, look who’s here.”
“Cash.” He extends his hand to me. “Good to see you.”
“Thanks, man. It’s good to be here, though I’d like to be down there.”
The owner of the Thunder nods. “I get it.”
That’s not the response I was hoping for.
“You look good, Cash,” Ray Benson, the Thunder’s general manager, says.
“Thanks, Ray. I feel good.”
“Excellent.” His eyes drift to Tiger. “And who is this beauty?”
“This is Tiger Lyons. Tiger, this hard-ass is Ray Benson, our general manager, and with him is his wife, Lauren. And this is Kyle Zimmerman.”
“Hello.” Her posture is more relaxed when she greets the group. “It’s nice to meet you all.”
“Your skin and bone structure are gorgeous.” Lauren nudges Tiger in the ribs. “Who does your work?” she asks in a stage whisper.
Tiger’s back is ramrod straight and you could pop a quarter off the taut line of her shoulders. “No one. This is all me,” she replies.
The two women groan dramatically, and Lauren says, “It’s so unfair.”
April laughs and loops her arm through Cash’s. “And y’all, this is Senator McMurphy and his wife, Hollis.”
“Good to meet you, sir.” I shake the senator’s hand. “Ma’am.”
“Those two with their noses in their phones are our twins Alister and Ivy,” Hollis says and gestures to two teenagers in the seats.
“Shame about your shoulder, Bullet.” The senator throws back amber liquid from a highball glass.
I hold my hands apart, palms up. “It’s part of the game, but I’ll be back for the playoffs.”
Neither Ray nor Kyle say anything, only exchange a covert glance. What the hell? This isn’t good. They’ve already written me off. I remember McKay’s face on the jumbotron during the Thunder’s entry into the stadium.
My body shakes like a buzzing beehive is in my chest.