Running Back to You (The Running Series, #1) (37 page)

Natalie, a personal shopper, finds us the moment we enter the dress
department.  Evan makes himself comfortable in the sitting area and I am
escorted to the dressing room.  Under Evan’s direction, Natalie brings me
about ten cocktail dresses to try on.  Before I agree to show any to Evan, I
ask Natalie to get me a pair of black heels.  I’m wearing tall boots today, and
the only way to really see how a dress will look is with the right shoes.

I know exactly which dress I like and I’m pretty sure Evan will too, so
it’s time to have some fun with my man. 

First I step out in a red dress with black leather trim.  It’s a little
too edgy and Evan is unmoved by it.  I follow it with an assortment of tunic
dresses, asymmetrical dresses, flared dresses, dresses with one sleeve, dresses
with long sleeves, and none of them are quite right. 

I tell Evan, “I’m not in love with any of these dresses, baby.  I don’t want
you to spend your money on something unless I absolutely love it.”

Natalie chimes in, “I believe there’s one dress left you haven’t tried
yet.”  She knows it’s the dress I really like.  She’s a good sport.

Evan tells me, “Sweetheart, I don’t want you to settle.  If you don’t see
anything you love, then we won’t buy anything.”

I give him a quick kiss and slip back into the dressing room with
Natalie.  The last dress I try on is a Herve Leger Cap Sleeve Bandage dress
with a cutout back.  She zips up the back for me, and I slip on the black
heels. 

I step out to find that Evan has struck up a conversation with another
young man waiting for his wife.  He doesn’t even notice me until his new friend
stops talking and stares in my direction, mouth agape.  He nudges Evan to look
and our eyes meet.  I turn around to show off the revealing back, and I think I
hear him gasp. 

“Well?  Say something, baby.  Do you like it?”  He says nothing, just
nods his assent.  “Natalie, I think we’ll take it,” I tell her.  I guess we’re
done shopping.

I cannot wait until we get back to Evan’s house tonight so I can thank
him properly for taking such good care of me today.

Evan takes me by the hand and we step out to find a cab.  The same
photographer from earlier today is still hanging around, but this time he’s
waiting right outside the doors as we exit.  We do our best to ignore him, but
still allow him to get a few good shots.  Fortunately, a cab pulls up for us
immediately.

Now that we’re done shopping, Evan offers the driver a nice tip to wait
at the parking garage while we bring our bags to the car. 

For dinner, Evan is taking me to my first Gastropub, “The Spotted Pig
”
. 
Jay-Z owns the building and celebrity sightings are frequent.  Little did I
suspect that the celebrity du jour would be Evan ‘Big Mac’ McGuire. 

We barely have a chance to look at a menu when a football fan comes over
to shake Evan’s hand.  Evan’s as charming as ever, and answers his questions
patiently.  The staff here is well versed in handling celebrities, and I’m
grateful when our waitress comes over to intervene.  She politely asks the
gentleman to return to his table and allow us to enjoy our meal.  He shakes
Evan’s hand, wishes him well, and happily retreats back to his dinner
companions.

“Juliette, I’m so sorry about that.  It happens sometimes.”  The male
fans I can handle, but the female groupies are a different challenge
altogether. 

We are able to finish eating most of our meal until we have one final
interruption. Joey Griffin is being seated at a nearby table.  As he walks past
us, he recognizes Evan and stops to say hello.  Evan introduces me as his
girlfriend.  This is my first real celebrity encounter and I’m sure Joey can
tell.  I reply in a mousy, “Hi,” while I turn several shades of red.  They chat
for a moment and it seems Joey wants Evan to be a guest on his talk show soon. 
Evan tells him that Adam will be in touch with his staff.  It feels a lot like two
business associates making plans for a lunch meeting. 

Joey excuses himself and the hostess seats his party.  “So, you know Joey
Griffin, huh?” I ask him.  Evan explains to me that he was on Joey’s show once last
year and he really enjoyed the experience.  

By the time we finish our meal and pay, I’m starting to feel more
relaxed.  That is, of course, until we step outside the restaurant.  We are
greeted by not one, but five or six photographers all snapping pictures of us
and calling out questions.

“Big Mac, introduce us to your date.”

“Hey, Evan, how’s the team lookin’ this year?”

One guy even shouts out, “Where’s Averee?”  I think he’s talking about Averee
DeVeau, the pop star Evan dated briefly. 

Then the question we were waiting for is shouted, “Can we get a comment
on last night’s bar fight, McGuire?”  The others follow suit, and shout similar
questions at us as we make our way across the sidewalk.

Evan does his best to ignore them and escort me directly to a waiting
taxi.  He tells the driver to take us to the Garden.  Now it’s really show
time.  The stress and anticipation are making me both nervous and excited,
causing my stomach to churn uncomfortably.

As we approach the Garden, Evan asks the driver to bring us to the
backstage entrance.  He seems oddly relaxed, confident even.  But when he
reaches up to run his hand through his hair, I know he’s concerned. 

We pull up in the back of the arena and I see a uniformed employee at the
door with a clipboard wearing a headset.  Evan exits the taxi and walks around
to escort me from the car.  The staffer recognizes Evan and welcomes us to the
Garden.  We are ushered through the backstage area.  It’s the complete
antithesis of glamorous.  We walk through bins of trash, pallets stacked with
cases of beer and water, and random building materials in piles scattered
around the floor. 

The service elevator, which is more accurately described as a cage, takes
us to the floor level of the arena.  After navigating down a few narrow
hallways, a red carpet appears which leads to a set of double doors.  I can
hear the dull roar of the crowd waiting inside for the start of the game.  Evan
gives my hand a reaffirming squeeze, reminding me that he’s still thinking
about me. 

The doors open, revealing an enthusiastic crowd and the dazzling lights
of the court.  Our escort points out our seats and wishes us well.  I squint to
see where he pointed, and sitting beside a pair of empty seats at Center Court
are not only Jason Sudeikis, Olivia Wilde, but also Ben Stiller, and his wife Christine
Taylor.  For some unknown reason, my feet refuse to move.  I don’t know if I
can do this.

Evan turns to me and flashes his million-dollar smile.  I steel myself,
take a deep breath, and throw my shoulders back.  He whispers in my ear, “Thank
you so much for doing this for me.  I love you, baby.”  And with those simple
words, I find myself following him like the pied piper.  He could lead me anywhere
and I would follow.

As we walk across the floor to our seats, I scan the crowd, taking in the
sights and sounds of this spectacle.  The moment Evan steps into the light,
he’s recognized.  Men and women alike start hollering his name while cameras,
large and small, begin to flash feverishly.  Another squeeze on my hand offers
me the encouragement and support that I need.

Evan has never met any of tonight’s celebrities, but he confidently walks
right over to them, seemingly unimpressed by their stardom.  I guess it’s no
wonder, really.  Evan’s been surrounded by celebrities for some time now and
the mystique is gone for him. 

Throughout the game, Evan is very attentive and generous with his PDA. 
His hand is, at all times, either wrapped around mine, resting on my shoulder,
or caressing my thigh.

During half time, I discover that there are other celebrities at the game. 
Sitting two rows behind us is none other than the infamous Averee DeVeau.  No
wonder the photographer asked about her.  Word must be out that the former
lovers are both in town. 

I do my best to ignore her, but that proves impossible when she makes her
way down to the floor to say hello to Evan.  She throws her arms around his
neck and kisses him.  Evan tries to back away, but Averee is not having it.

“Oh, Evan, I knew I would eventually run into you.  When are we getting
together?” she asks.  “Did you hear?  I’m doing a short run in ‘Chicago’ on
Broadway.  You
have
to come see me.”  

I feel completely invisible and terribly inadequate.  Averee is
absolutely beautiful.  She’s rail thin, much taller than my five-foot-five,
with long blonde ringlets playfully sweeping across her shoulders.  She’s got
perfectly porcelain skin and blood-red lips. 

Evan wraps
one arm around my waist and pulls me close, “Sorry, Ree,” he explains, “you didn’t
give me a chance to introduce you to my girlfriend, Juliette.”

She looks
at me and makes a face like she just tasted something bitter.  “I heard.”  I’m
stunned and speechless.

Looking
back at Evan with a lustful stare and in her most seductive voice, she tells
him, “When you get bored, call me.” 

Arrogantly,
she whispers to him, but loud enough so I can hear, “You have my number.”  And
off she goes. 

Evan pulls me to the side and apologizes for her privately.  “Sweetheart,
please don’t be upset.  I had no idea she was here.”

“Baby, she obviously still has a thing for you.  Was she always such a
bitch?  How did you stand it?” I ask him.

“She was actually a lot of fun, so long as she was calling the shots.  I
don’t want to talk about her anymore.  That’s my past.  You’re my future. 
Let’s get back to the game,” he tells me. 

“Gladly,” I respond.  Together, we return to our seats at Center Court.

Jason and Ben have us laughing all night long.  Ben Stiller is utterly
the funniest person I’ve ever met in my life.  I’m enjoying myself more than I
could have ever imagined.

Just when I begin to see my new acquaintances as mere mortals, there’s a
time-out on the court, and the announcer introduces the new Sentinels’ back-up
quarterback, Evan “Big Mac” McGuire, to the crowd.  Cameras focus on Evan and
show his image on all the screens in the arena.  He stands and waves to the
crowd as they erupt in cheers and thunderous applause.  He sits back down
beside me, slides a lock of hair behind my ear, and whispers, “At least they
didn’t boo.  I guess that’s a good sign.” 

My worst fear was that the news media would portray Evan as a bully, or
worse, a criminal.  We’ve spent the day purposefully unplugged from the chatter
of news and gossip.  All we could do was place our trust and faith in Adam and
his PR skills.  By the look of the public’s reaction tonight, I’d say that
confidence was well placed.  

Now I know what Evan’s concern was on the ride over.  He wasn’t nervous
about rubbing elbows with celebrities, that’s old hat for him.  He was nervous
about getting jeered and taunted by the fans.  I reassure him, “Baby, they
know a good man when they see one.  I love you so much.” 

Dodge the
Bullet

E
van talks me into spending one more night at his house.  I’d like to be
in my own bed and in my own home, but spending the night with Evan has its own
set of perks.  I put up a good fight, but in truth, it is a foregone
conclusion.

He carries our shopping bags in and places them in his room while I make
us a nightcap.  Evan has a fully stocked liquor cabinet, and it’s hard to
decide what to make.  When I see the Jägermeister and coconut rum, I decide to make us each a Surfer on Acid.  I
mix equal parts, add some pineapple juice, and voila! 

By the time I’m done, Evan reappears, stripped down to just his boxers. 
“Juliette, baby, go get changed.  I left you a surprise on my bed.”

“You got me something?  When?  You bought me so much, I really wish you
didn’t.”  We were together constantly, non-stop.  I have no idea when he could
have possibly done this.