so we won’t see them until later this evening.
After collecting Bette’s bag from baggage claim and meeting up with the rest of our party, we walk outside, all of us sighing at the comforting heat that greets us. Sixty degrees may not seem all that warm, but when you live in the northeast and you’re used to your winters typically being in the thirties, if not colder, this is t-shirt weather.
Bette leads the way like she’s Mama Duck, and we follow like her faithful ducklings until she comes to a stop at a man holding a white dry erase board with Dennings scrawled across it in messy black marker.
Being the smallest of the bunch, T, Savvy, and I tuck ourselves in the back row of the Yukon XL Denali. When we hear Bette confirming with the driver that he will be dropping our bags off with the front desk at our hotel, we share a laugh at the military-esque precision Bette used in her approach for planning our travels.
Not only was she able to secure a four-bedroom suite in the same hotel the U of J is staying at, she also called in one of her own personal connections to arrange a private tour of AT&T Stadium.
Miles Dennings—running back for the Outlaws and a player on my fantasy team, the Dennings Family Reunion—had grown close with E during their multiple Pro Bowl appearances together, but it was how easily Bette and his wife Denise hit it off that led to the friendship between the two Dennings families.
As was the case any time I attended games for E, Bette and I would hang back, doing our own laid-back thing out of the spotlight of all the hoopla. When Denise—a Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue cover model—overheard our plans to spend the hours before the Pro Bowl getting manis and pedis instead of attending the fancy party the NFL put on, she jumped at the chance to join. And the rest is, how you say, history.
With all the press and media coverage surrounding the Cotton Bowl—the bowl game not the stadium, since the game is no longer played in its namesake—we wouldn’t normally risk being near the epicenter, but today is one of the rare days when the U of J’s practice is closed to both the press and the public.
I do feel a mild amount of trepidation, but the tour will be private and an awesome experience, especially for those who have never done anything like it before. I’m not planning on surprising Mase until tonight back at the hotel, so it should give me the opportunity to see him—even if it will only be from a distance.
We make the drive to the stadium in less than thirty minutes, and by the time we pass through security and pull up to the players’ entrance, Miles is outside waiting for us. T and Savvy sigh at the sight of him leaning against the side of the stadium, and I laugh at the dreamy sound.
Miles is a good-looking man: a few inches shorter than E with a camera-ready smile that stands out against his dark skin and a close-cut fade I’m sure Bette will be decorating sometime before we leave Dallas. He’s dressed in tapered dark wash jeans, gray suede loafers, a white collared shirt, and a dove gray lightweight sweater, both pushed up to the elbows and exposing his tattooed forearms, and he has matching diamond studs in his ears. I’m sure his supermodel wife is to thank for his impeccable fashion sense.
Miles folds Bette into a hug and does the same with T, Savvy, and me as we make our way out of the vehicle. I hear another round of those sighs.
“Whoa, Little D,” Miles says, having also taken to calling me the same shorthand for Little Dennings that B does, as he flicks a section of my hair over my shoulder. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your hair straight.”
“You’re a guy—why would you ever notice a thing like that?” I tease.
“Um…” Miles hooks a thumb back at himself. “My wife’s a model. I’ve been conditioned to notice these things.” He swipes a keycard over a sensor and holds the door for us to enter the stadium.
“Glad to see DeeDee has you so well trained.” Bette loops an arm through Miles’, and the two of them take the lead through the tunnels.
“You know…you’re the only one she lets call her that.” His confession has Bette’s head falling forward with