Wyatt
MAE WARNED ME that this might not be my scene. While I don’t want to completely trash her events, I find myself having to bite my tongue often as we step from the car and into the world of fame excess.
After our night in Chicago, we haven’t had a chance to really hang out. She’s been in town for the past few days but has been busy with rehearsals. Likewise, the team has been busy dissecting every bit of New Orleans’ team. Practices have slowly been ramping back up to peak, and soon we’ll be preparing to fly to Vegas, the predetermined site for the final. Today, I have absolutely cherished my time with her.
Mae glistens in her gown. I know people will view her return to her angry red as a sign that she’s upset over the last awards show or that it’s her chance to get at Trenton. In reality, I chose it for her tonight. She let me be a part of the whole processand for me, it was a no-brainer to put her in it. I went with a coordinating suit.
You usually won’t catch me in anything this nice, even on game days. It’s not something I really put any thought or money into, but as we walk down the red carpet, I know that the coordination was a great idea. Everyone is looking at us, and I surprisingly don’t hate the feeling. Since I was forced to dress up, they might as well be looking at us rather than everyone else. I tighten my grip around Mae and lean in to whisper something funny about the outfit next to us. She smiles, and the camera shutters flutter away. To them, it will look like we’ve shared a steamy secret, but in reality, I was making a comment about ruffles.
As we move down the line, the photographers turn their attention to those arriving behind us. Mae is opening the show, so we’re one of the first people here. We’re so early that some of the media people aren’t even set up yet. I can sense their stress heightening as we pass by and don’t stop to chat.
Of course Genelle, ever the professional, has set up and is beaming and ready when we approach. Despite her past with covering Mae and Trenton, Mae says she’s come to appreciate what the journalist has done for her career and has begun to trust her more than others.
“Hello to my favorite couple on planet Earth,” she says, a bit more chipper than usual. Mae rests a hand on my arm, and we both turn to smile at each other briefly. It’s a play for the cameras; inside, we’re already tired of the questions that haven’t been asked. “Wyatt, I’m very surprised to see you here with the championship upon us.”
“Well, even us athletes take our free time to do things we enjoy,” I lie. A red carpet soiree is not my idea of enjoyment but anything with Mae most certainly is.
Genelle seems satisfied and immediately turns to Mae. I’m instantly forgotten. “Mae,” she leans in closer, “the last time I spoke to you was in Nashville.” I feel Mae stiffen a bit but with that movement comes the raising of her head. I give her hip a reassuring squeeze as we brace for the question. “What happened at the end of that event took the media by storm. Is there anything you can say about what went down on that stage?”
Mae takes a deep breath, but when she speaks, she is calm and concise. “Genelle, what happened in Nashville was very unfortunate, and I’m quite frankly still sorting through my feelings about the whole thing. Some things are still very hazy, but I can tell you that my goal, my life goal, is to be known for the things that I’ve come to love, not the things I hate or the negatives that come from fame. I write songs to deal with my emotions but at the end of the day, I’m learning and growing just like everyone else. These past few weeks have taught me how to channel that anger and that disappointment and mold it into art. I’m grateful for the lesson.”
Genelle smiles faintly. “If you see Trenton tonight, what will your message to him be?” I can see Raleigh behind the camera shaking her head, but Mae, an open book, answers anyway.
“I’m always accepting of forgiveness. If he wants to attempt to mend our relationship, then that is up to him.”
“That’s her prerogative,” I butt in. “But I can’t say the same.” Mae whips her gaze over to me, and her mouth drops open to speak, but Genelle has jumped on my comment.
“A little overprotective, are we Wyatt?” Genelle asks. Her mic moves from Mae to me, and Raleigh shakes her head harder while running a finger across her neck. I contemplate leaving it there, but Mae is beside me, and she deserves to know what her happiness means to me.
“I’ll make sure he watches his words,” I say gruffly.
“And his hands,” Genelle adds seriously.
I nod. “Absolutely. He’s not getting anywhere near her tonight.”
“Wow,” Genelle says, looking from us to her camera and then back again. I’ve never seen this woman flustered before.
She recovers when her cameraman asks if he should keep rolling. She scowls at him and then returns her conversation back to Mae. “Tonight isn’t about these men, though, Mae. Let’s get back to you. What will you be performing tonight? Will we be hearing a solo rendition of ‘Flickers of Light?’ Or something new?”
“Well,” Mae says as she looks up to me with love-filled eyes. She doesn’t take them off of me as she continues, “I mentioned how the Nashville incident taught me how to funnel my creative energies. Wyatt and I actually wrote a song together the day after, and I’m really proud of it. It’s about being able to leave those kinds of traumatic things in life behind when you find the right person. You can expect a performance about that tonight.”
I hardly think I contributed to the writing of that song, but I’ll take it, especially since she’s looking at me so proudly. She stands up on her toes, and we share a quick peck on the lips before we turn back to Genelle and bid our farewells.
“I think that went well,” Mae says as we stride along to the next interviewer.
The questions are all the same, and I’m left wondering how on earth she can stand talking about her gown and how excited she is for the evening when there are so many other interesting things about her she could discuss.
As we line up to head into the venue, Mae leans over to me and whispers, “This is so much better with you here.” I smile back at her, and she nuzzles her head into my shoulder. I shift my arm from her waist to take her arm as the line moves forward and we’re brought into the small venue.
Inside, there are a few attendees who skipped the red carpet. Even with the smaller venue and the lack of a live audience, it does nothing to hinder the atmosphere. This isn’t just a show for the music crowd; there are people in movies, photography, literature, and art.
An usher moves us toward our seats in the music section. Hovering near our table, people come by to greet us. Mae obliges them, but I can tell she’s anxious to head backstage and get ready for her performance.
More and more people filter in, and finally, I can’t take Mae’s tapping foot any more. “Do you want me to block for you?”
“What?” she asks, turning to me confused. “Is that a football reference?”
“I can block while you sneak away.” She’s about to respond when her name is spoken.
