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As soon as Drake and I are on the pavement and on our way inside the hotel, cameras flash like crazy.
“Doomsday! Doomsday! Is that your girlfriend?” someone shouts. It’s a man’s voice.
Drake doesn’t respond… because he really doesn’t have to.
“Hey—girl! What’s your name?”
I glance back, but Drake tugs on my hand. “Don’t,” he murmurs when I look at him. “Just keep walking with me.”
We reach the sliding doors and the questions keep coming at us in waves. They all close in on us, smiling, laughing, and cheering. They are so happy for him—well, except the girls, who I can tell are envious. They don’t know who I am, or even where I came from. They look baffled and hopeless.
And I don’t know why, but when we finally get inside, I smile up at Drake. He looks down at me, confused by my expression.
“What’s with the grin?” he asks.
“I know it’s going to sound crazy… but that was really fun.”
He laughs. “You think pushing through a wild crowd that constantly screams your name is fun?”
“Well, they weren’t screaming my name, but hey!” I playfully slap him on the chest. “You can’t say you don’t love it. I saw how you treated those fans. You love it. You eat that shit right up.”
“Nah. It’s just respect.” He swings his arm over my shoulder and turns me around. Preach follows behind us as we walk through the busy casino.
A few fans come in behind us, but they don’t get too close. The other security guard is telling them to give us some privacy.
As we walk through the casino, I can feel eyes on us and hear the shutter clicks of camera-phones. I see the quick flashes, but I focus solely on Drake. It isn’t so bad when I have him right beside me to talk to.
“I appreciate my fans, yes,” Drake sighs, waving at a few women that have already been waving like maniacs. “Without them cheering me on, I don’t think I would like fighting this much. It’s kind of like I have a reason to fight… because they like it.”
My cheeks spread as I look up at him. “I knew it. And there is nothing wrong with that.”
He shrugs.
“So… what the hell are we doing in this hotel?” I ask.
“Oscar has a room here. He doesn’t like the crowds much. He only comes around when I’m about to fight or if I really need him. Otto loves it, though. It’s why he’s staying at the Bellagio.”
“So they’re, like, your entourage now?” I question.
He shakes his head with a half-smile. “That’s what it seems like to the public eye, but they would kill me if I answered yes to that question.”
I giggle. “They sound like the same Davenport twins I knew.”
“They are. Not much has changed—except Otto wears that stupid man-bun on the top of his head now. He’s growing his beard out and everything. Fucking crazy.”
“Hey, some girls love a man with long hair. Just saying. Where is he anyway? I haven’t seen him since the night of the fight when he was walking to the cage with you.”
“There is no telling where that clown is. For all I know he’s—”
“There you are, you son of a bitch!” A deep, familiar voice fills the passageway and I look forward, only to see Otto Davenport in the flesh.
Drake groans and sighs a little. “Speaking of the fucking devil.”
Otto comes marching down the hallway in a plaid blue, black, and white shirt, and wow. He has a pretty serious man bun going on today. It’s pulled up tight, all sleek around the edges and puffy at the top.
He even has his thick beard combed, which surprises me, but I can’t say it doesn’t look good on him. In my opinion, the bun fits Otto.
He’s always been the outgoing one, and he never cared too much about anyone else’s opinion of him. It’s what I loved about his personality.
He was always himself. A goof, yes, but himself.
Otto stops less than a foot away. “Ho-ly. Shit. If it isn’t Pretty Jenny in the fucking flesh.” People that pass by us look at Otto as if he’s out of his damn mind. He doesn’t give them the time of day. Instead, he rushes in and lugs me into a tight bear hug. “Get over here! It’s been years!”
I laugh as he squeezes me tight, swinging me in a large circle and almost hitting one of the by-passers with my feet.
“Sorry,” I squeak when the man looks back with a scowl.
Drake rolls his eyes and folds his arms.
“How have you been?” Otto asks, dropping me and then planting his hands on his waist.
“I’ve been great.” I smile up at him and Drake comes to my side again.
“Are you done with the wild shit?” Drake cocks a brow.
“Am I ever done?” Otto throws his hands in the air, palms up. “What took you so fucking long? I’ve been waiting for you for over thirty fucking minutes.”
