Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 81635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81635 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 408(@200wpm)___ 327(@250wpm)___ 272(@300wpm)
Making my way into my walk-in closet, I grab a pair of boxers from one of the drawers. Slipping them on, I look over at my wall of suits. Should I go blue or black? My phone buzzes, reminding me that my ride will be here in thirty minutes.
I grab the blue suit I haven’t worn before, slipping the tailored pants on with a white button-down shirt. Once I have on my brown Tom Ford belt and matching shoes, I walk over to the mirror and look at myself before deciding on a blue tie with small white dots. Sliding on the jacket completes the outfit, and I grab my aviator sunglasses, then walk to the front door and out to my waiting ride.
"Good evening." The driver opens the back door of the Tesla car, and I just shake my head.
"No way am I riding in the back." With a laugh, he closes the back door and then opens the front one. "Thanks, Frank," I tell him. "Thought I would forget." I shake my head. The last time I saw Frank was when I attended Michael’s wedding and didn’t want to drive to the venue and back. So, he drove me and picked me up at 5:00 a.m. when I woke up. I definitely did not plan on drinking so much I passed out.
He gets into the driver's side now. "I have water for you in the back." He points at the water in the cupholder in the back.
"Thanks, buddy," I say, leaning into the back and grabbing it. "Are we on time?"
"We are," he confirms. "We’ll be meeting everyone on the street right behind the arena." I nod at him and go through Instagram while he drives me to the arena. Because it’s the season opener, we are all arriving one after another and walking the red carpet. The fans have been lining up since this morning to get a shot at seeing a couple of us as well as getting to take some pictures with us.
We pull up along all the other Teslas, and Patricia, the team’s public relations manager, comes over and knocks on the window. "Hi," she says, bending to hand me four Sharpies. "This is for you to sign if you want to." She smiles. "Lots of fans out there are waiting for you." She turns and walks to the car that just pulled up behind us.
Frank starts to get texts telling him when it’s time to go. I look out the window, my finger tapping one of my legs as he makes his way over to the arena. The street is closed off, and a police barricade is in place to only allow our cars to pass. Fans are lined up on both sides of the carpet, and the press is there snapping pictures. "You are second to last," he says, and I nod, my heart starting to pump just a touch faster as he moves up one more spot.
I can hear the fans screaming when Michael Horton gets out of the car in front of me, and he holds up his hand. "You can get out," Frank says, and I open the door, stepping out and hearing the roar of the fans outside.
It’s utter chaos as I wave to the fans across the street and then walk toward the carpet. "This is nuts," I say once I get close to Michael, and he laughs.
"I think it’s going to be even worse once we get down the carpet," he replies, and I walk over to one side and start signing stuff.
Fans have team pictures and shirts for the players to sign. Someone even had my rookie card. I smile at him when I sign it. "This is old." I smirk as they snap a picture of me signing it. The fan noise just gets louder when Cooper and Manning arrive together. Little does everyone know that he’s retiring after this year, and from the looks of it, Cooper is going to step up to the plate and take the C from him.
It takes an hour before we walk into the arena. "Are your ears buzzing?" I look over at Cooper, who walks in with me, and he laughs.
"Did you see that one girl yelling your name?" Cooper claps his hands. "I swear I thought she was going to flash her tits just to get your attention." My mouth opens as I look back at the door, and Manning comes in. No press is allowed past the doors, and it’s a good thing because his wife, Evelyn, is there with their kids as they snap a picture with him. I watch him with his family for longer than is normal.
Turning, I walk into the dressing room. "There he is, Mr. GQ,” Raphel, one of the rookies, says, and I just shake my head.