Happy Birthday: A Novel

They arrived at the luncheon in a white limousine, and Jack was part of the press conference, as expected, talking about what the fans could look forward to and how he thought the game would play out. And they got just a brief clip of Valerie and asked her what she thought of the Super Bowl so far, and she said she thought it was just great. They didn’t need more from her than that.

After lunch, her own car picked her up, a white Escalade, and she disappeared to Bal Harbour, and browsed through all her favorite shops, everything from Dolce & Gabbana to Dior and Cartier. The shopping center was terrific, and she did a fair amount of damage and bought three bathing suits, a pair of sandals, and two sweaters, and then went back to the hotel for a massage.

She didn’t see Jack again until seven, when he stopped by her room, and with a loud groan lay down on the couch in her suite. He was so tall, his feet hung off the end.

“God, I’m beat, and it hasn’t even started yet.” He knew the next few days would be insane. They always were.

“Do you have time to take a nap?” she asked, with a look of concern. She was wearing a white terrycloth robe and looked relaxed after her massage. She’d had an easy afternoon.

“Not really,” he answered. They had to leave in half an hour for a cocktail party. Some of the big football players would be there, and he had to attend. Jack had a double role here, as a retired Hall of Fame player, and as a star sportscaster, and he had to go a lot of places to wear both hats. He forced himself back off the couch a minute later, and went to his own room to get dressed. He would much rather have stayed in the suite with her, ordered dinner, and watched a movie on TV. But there was no chance of that.

He came back in a black Prada suit with an impeccable white shirt, looking very stylish, and she was wearing a short black cocktail dress and towering high heels. They made a handsome couple, he noticed in a mirror they passed as they left her suite.

“We look pretty good together,” he commented.

“You’d look good with anyone, Jack,” she said, smiling at him, and he leaned down to kiss her cheek.

“So would you, pretty lady. I’m just happy that it’s me.”

“You don’t miss the miniskirts and rhinestone bras?” she said, and he laughed.

“Not likely. And that dress looks pretty short to me,” he said, referring to what she was wearing. It was short, but fashionably so, and showed off her legs, as did the heels.

They both drifted into the crowd and lost each other at the cocktail party, and were photographed, although separately, and an hour later they were whisked away to another dinner event at The Forge, attended by many of the major players, their wives, the owners of the teams, and just about anyone important who was in town. It was quite a scene. There was dancing afterward, but all the players left immediately after dinner. It was nearly one in the morning by the time Jack and Valerie could slip away and go back to the hotel. Jack looked drained.

“Are you okay?” she asked, looking worried about him. “How’s the leg?”

“It’s okay.” He hadn’t danced, though. He wasn’t up to that yet. “I’m just tired. It’s tough being on all night like that. You look as fresh as when we left the hotel. I don’t know how you do it,” he said admiringly.

“I’m not working as hard as you are,” she pointed out, “I’m just a tourist here.” And she hadn’t been shot a month before.

“Thanks for being here,” he said, as the limo pulled up to their hotel.

“I’m having fun,” she said, and meant it. “This is totally new to me. And you’re right about opening new doors. This is really cool,” she added enthusiastically, as he laughed and they both got out.

He left her at the door to her suite and kissed her chastely on the forehead. He would have liked to come in and chat with her, but he was just too tired. Getting back to work with a bang like this was wearing him out. Being shot had definitely taken a toll, more than he wanted to admit. He slept like a log that night, and was up at the crack of dawn and went to the gym to work out. He was still cautious about it, but he had exercises he had to do. And he knocked on Valerie’s door on the way back to his room. She was wearing her nightgown and a robe, and said she had slept well too.