“They’re going to want me to sign stuff. Do you mind or do you want me to blow them off?” I’d do whatever the hell she wanted me to.
“Of course you should sign stuff.” She smiled.
I gripped her hand, leading her toward the door. I pushed it open, holding it for her to walk through before following behind. The sound of my name filled the air around us as people crowded to get close, shoving their camera phones toward us. Instinctively, I wanted to protect Cassie from the rushing bodies, but I ended up only tightening my grip on her.
“Ow, Jack.” She winced, pulling her hand from mine and shaking it.
“Shit. Sorry, Kitten.”
“It’s OK.” She smiled.
“Jack, how about a picture?” A woman shouted above everyone else. I’d have to have been blind to not notice her good looks.
“Sure,” I said, remembering Cassie’s words.
Reluctantly I posed, keeping my hands to myself, but this chick draped herself all over me like a cheap fucking suit. Disgusted, I removed her hands from my body. “No more pictures, but I’ll sign whatever you want,” I announced to the group, frowning at the one who’d just ruined pictures for the rest of them. Forcing a big smile on my face, I signed papers, taxi receipts, and a couple of baseballs.
“Cassie, Cassie honey. Look this way.” My attention turned to the long-haired, greasy-looking guy with a professional camera taking pictures of Kitten while she waited for me to finish. I watched as she reacted to the sound of her name, which clearly caught her off guard, and she searched the crowd for the one calling out to her.
“Leave her alone,” I shouted in his direction, and he glared at me. He fucking glared at me, aimed the camera back toward Cass, and clicked the button. I imagined jumping over everyone and breaking that camera across the side of his fucking skull.
“You’re so pretty when you smile, Cassie. Won’t you smile for the camera? Who was with you at the game last night? Cassie? Did you and Jack make up? Why were you mad at him?” The dirtbag was relentless.
“I said leave her alone,” I threatened, my patience fading.
Cassie suddenly appeared at my side, whispering in my ear, “That guy’s creeping me out.”
“We’ll go,” I whispered back. “I have to go. Sorry.” I made my way through the crowd, which had grown in number since I started. I pushed lightly through the people, signing a few scraps of paper on the way, never letting go of Cassie’s hand.
We walked down the sidewalk and I glanced back, noticing the guy still taking shots of us, following our every move. “That guy’s following us. He must be paparazzi.”
“When he called out my name,” she paused, “that freaked me out. And all those questions. It’s weird when people know about your life like that.”
“I know. Come on, let’s get a cab.” I stopped walking and the guy did too.
That’s right, asshole. Keep your distance.
“I got this.” She winked at me before stepping out onto the edge of the busy street.
She looked sexy as hell hailing down a cab, her hip jutted out as she waved her arm. The cab pulled up like a speeding train before slamming on the brakes and we hopped in.
“Is he following us?” Cassie asked softly.
I glanced back. “Nope. I think he knows I’ll deck him,” I said with a laugh, and she kissed my cheek.
When the cabbie stopped in front of a gold-trimmed apartment building with a uniformed guy standing outside the revolving door, I smiled, my comfort level growing already.
This is what I’m talking about.
I helped Cass out of the cab, and we walked toward the door.
“Can I help you?” the doorman asked.
Good. He asks what you’re doing here before you go in. I like that.
“We have an appointment with Ruth.”
“Have a good day,” he nodded, allowing us to enter.
A middle-aged woman greeted us the moment we walked in. Her voice was so raspy it sounded as if she smoked twenty packs a day. “I’m Ruth. You must be Jack and Cassie. It’s nice to meet you. We happen to have a vacant two-bedroom apartment on the twenty-third floor that I want to show you. Are you ready?”
I turned to Cassie. “Twenty-third floor? It’s my number, babe. That’s a sign.”
Baseball players are nothing if not superstitious.
Cassie smiled, following Ruth into the elevator that flew us to the twenty-third floor in no time. Ruth led us down the hall, unlocked the door, and waved us in. “I’ll just be over here, so you kids take your time looking around.”
Holy shit.
This place was gorgeous. I knew Kitten was already sold by the look on her face. “Can we afford this?” she whispered.
“We can. Easily. It’s not as much as you think.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
I could see why. Cassie started on about granite countertops and stainless-steel appliances, and squealed when she walked into the master bathroom. I didn’t know half the shit she was talking about, but the smile on her face was priceless. I’d take out a fucking loan to live here if I had to.
“I think we can fit ten apartments the size of yours in here,” I teased, before walking onto the balcony. The city rushed by down below, and the buildings provided the perfect landscape. I bet Kitten would love to photograph things from up here.
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