“Yes! You won’t be sorry,” I said with a quick, giddy peck to his lips.
Now, on the big night, I’m not as confident in my brilliant plan.
I have to admit, it feels weird to be hosting this party with Jet at his house. It’s so domestic. But I’m trying to go with it. I’m definitely not dwelling on the fact that he’s meeting my two best friends and half of my family in a few minutes. This is simply a fun get-together for one of the country’s biggest sports nights. At the home of all-pro quarterback Jet Knox. My boyfriend.
Meep.
Oh, yeah, it’s official. We have one of those ridiculous couple names. Jetaura has arrived.
Thanks to NFL guest lists, the media learned my real name at the Pro Bowl. When they determined I was a nobody (not a supermodel, actress, internationally renowned human rights lawyer, or reality TV star), they didn’t have much use for the information. I wasn’t worried, because by then, my parents knew I was dating Jet, and Jet’s family knew about me, so it’s not like ESPN would have been dropping a bombshell on any of our loved ones if it had been a slow news day, and the media decided to care who I was.
But Jet’s already warned me that once the excitement dies down after the Super Bowl and before the Draft in May, football-related news is hard to come by, so NFL bloggers dig deeper and reach further for “stories,” usually of a personal nature. Who’s getting married, who’s getting divorced, who’s having babies (and with whom), who’s letting their boredom get the best of them and running into legal problems—you know, the usual.
And now that they have a real name to go with my face, they might be more interested in my role in the dullest of soap operas, The Off-Season. By the time we got back from Hawaii, they already knew where I work, what I do, even where I live. It’s all public record and not that big of a deal, considering they generally leave me alone as long as I’m not with Jet. When I am with him, I understand I’m fair game. It’s part of the gig. I like the gig so far.
Jet’s messing with the settings on his TV, scowling and complaining at the remote, when I bring the finger foods into the room, setting the veggie, meat, and seafood trays on the wet bar. As I’m shooing Torz away from the buffet, I hear Jet say through gritted teeth, “I am pushing the ‘surround sound’ button, damn it. Why isn’t it working? Stupid piece of shit.”
Keeping an eye on the dog, I sidle up to my co-host and ask, “You want me to try?”
He hands me the device. “I guess. Not sure what you’re going to do different—”
I press the “reset” button, then “surround sound,” and the icon pops up on the screen to let us know it worked, in case we couldn’t suddenly hear the obnoxious pre-game show coming from the speakers installed strategically in all corners of the room.
“How’d you…?” Taking the remote back from me, he looks down at it.
“Happens with my TV all the time. You can’t watch action films without surround sound.”
He shoots me a shaky smile, then sets the remote on the end table next to his favorite oversized easy chair. “Well. Okay, then. Thanks.”
“Are you okay? You seem tense.”
Looking chagrined, he turns to face me. “Is it that obvious?”
“To me. What’s wrong?”
Something over my shoulder catches his attention, and he quickly side-steps me. “Quatorze Knox! Get down from there!” he booms, rushing for the meat-and-cheese tray.
The dog hops down and skitters from the room, the tags on his collar jingling all the way up the stairs as he takes cover under one of the beds.
“Son of a bitch,” Jet growls while surveying the damage.
I join him and remove the obviously licked food, then rearrange the untouched stuff. “It’s okay. It’s not like he sheds. A little dog slobber never hurt anyone. Especially if they don’t know about it.” Ew. Not really, but whatever. I smile gamely and continue removing another layer of meat, just in case.
“He’s such an asshole sometimes.”
Finished repairing the tray and disposing of the contaminated food, I grab Jet’s hand. “Hey. Relax, all right? What are you so worried about?”
“What if your brother doesn’t like me?”
I laugh.
“It’s not funny. What if he doesn’t?”
“He will. But even if he doesn’t, there are a billion things he doesn’t like about my life. Hasn’t affected how I live up ‘til now, so you wouldn’t be any different.”
“I couldn’t come between family.”
“Jet.”
He looks pitifully down at me.
“Calm down. He’s going to love you. They’re all going to love you.”
“I’m almost more nervous about meeting Colin, because you do care what he thinks.”
“He already likes you, based on what he’s read about you.”
“By the way, am I supposed to know about that?”
“He doesn’t care, as long as you think it’s funny. Colin’s one of the most honest, upfront guys in the world. Besides you.”
He chuckles nervously. “It’s just this place…” He motions to the room around us. “Sometimes it’s embarrassing. With the guys from the team it’s not, because all of their houses are like this. Well, worse, in most cases. But—”
“When the plebs come over to play, you feel self-conscious?”
“That’s not what I’m saying!”
The horror on his face cracks me up. “Jet. Sweetie. Chill. I’m teasing you. I get it. There were times in Hawaii that the luxury felt perverse. Excessive.”
“Exactly! That’s what I’m saying. Like, what’s the point of one guy having all this? I worry that’s what people think. Like they judge me for having too much when so many people in the world don’t have enough.”
“Well, my brother’s not going to think that. You’re going to be his hero. He’s all about capitalism.”
He snorts.
“And you earned this. Plus, it suits a purpose for when your
