Inner Circle (2 page)

It was an opinion that was first introduced to her by her mother, Nadia Inez, even before choosing a profession that supported her mother’s claims. Eve was the product of a one-night stand her mother had had with a professional athlete. After discovering that she was pregnant, Nadia received even worse news. The man she knew only as Hank was married. Nadia put up a brick wall whenever Eve asked about her father. All her mother would say was that she had had one momentary lapse of judgment that resulted in Eve’s conception, but no matter how wonderful it had been, she would never date nor get involved with another professional athlete. In fact, that sentiment had
become her mantra, so much so that by the time Eve was old enough to date, she avoided athletes like an STD.

Although Eve never intended to date a professional athlete, she’d been fascinated with football all her life, primarily because she always wondered if she could figure out who her father was by studying the game. With thirty-two teams and absolutely no information about her father besides a first name, identifying him was next to impossible. Eve didn’t even know whether her father was black or white, and because her Puerto Rican features were so strong, she knew it could go either way.

Try as she might to avoid them, athletes of all sorts pursued her in droves. In college and throughout her early twenties, Eve turned down football players, soccer players, basketball stars, and everything in between before meeting Chase. Eve’s desire was to represent athletes, not date them, which was why she started working as a paralegal with one of the largest sports and entertainment law firms in Miami.

Eve knew that her sultry Latin curves, naturally sun-kissed blond-and-brown hair, and bombshell Sophia Loren looks would make it hard for the men in her office to take her seriously, yet she didn’t let that deter her from accomplishing her goals. Her looks not only got her on the best cases with the most high-profile clients but also afforded her countless nights out wining and dining. A-list clients insisted that Eve be present at all of their events, even if it meant paying for her to travel around the world. She was the tempting carrot at the end of the stick that all the top attorneys dangled in an effort to sign, seal, and deliver a deal.

Most women in the firm would’ve taken offense at being considered the office eye-candy, but Eve didn’t care. She was on the fast track to becoming an agent, and if using her looks advanced her in that direction, so be it. She was the only paralegal at the firm with an expense account, company car, and endless bonuses for just being pretty.
Fuck ’em,
she thought, because she was getting hers. And as long as she didn’t have to compromise her body or standards
for those luxuries, she couldn’t care less about what people thought of her.

It didn’t matter if you were a girl or a guy, straight or gay, people in Miami prided themselves on their looks and their game as their means of getting in or out of any and all situations. Miami had it all: the fake-it-’til-you-make-it types, the actual real-deal Holyfields, the wannabe, gonnabe, gottabe somebodies, and finally the don’t-ask-don’t-tell-but-their-shit-was-real types.

Eve also knew that a lot of women from Miami had reputations of being either gold diggers or opportunists. So when her boss, powerhouse entertainment attorney and firm partner, Andrew Rothberg, introduced her to his star client, Chase Landon, she greeted him cordially but immediately shut down his romantic advances toward her. She’d worked too hard at not mixing business with pleasure and wasn’t sure she wanted to change that now.

Chase was persistent, though. For one year straight, he wooed Eve with calla lilies he sent to the office with a card that repeatedly asked her out to dinner. The last month, however, was the clincher. Chase was so determined for Eve to say yes that he started sending flowers every day. Finally, Andrew insisted that she accept, because there was simply not enough desk space to support the absurd number of bouquets that were coming in.

It only took one yes to ignite a full-fledged relationship between the two. Eve was smitten with Chase halfway through their first date, which made it hard for her to make him abide by her six-month nosex rule. Yet not only did he abide by her rules, Chase was so committed to Eve from the start that he had often joked about making her his wife, a fact that after her last visit to Los Angeles, she knew he actually meant.

Eve repeatedly ran her fingers through her hair and tugged at her ponytail. Her frustration waiting for Chase brought back the same anxious anticipation of the night he first proposed. As she scanned the line of passing cars, she shook her head recalling their conversation.

“Of course I love you, Chase. But I don’t believe in living with someone I’m not married to. I wasn’t raised like that. And I know you—your impulsiveness and persistence is what brought us together, but I’m not going to just quit my job and move here to be with you.”

“If you’re worried about the money, I’ll pay you your salary.”

“This has nothing to do with money, Chase. This is about our life together. Listen to you. I mean, is this even a proposal of marriage, or is it a proposal to shack up? You know how I feel about that. Anything can happen, and then I’d be the one who’s stuck.”

“You know I wouldn’t play you like that, Eve.”

“I know, but this feels rushed. Besides, I don’t want you presenting me with a proposal you truly haven’t thought out. L.A. is your home, not mine. And I don’t want to move here only to move into your house. I’d want my own home. Something that’s ours together, you know? Besides, what would my mother say? She doesn’t even like the idea of us dating, let alone the thought of marriage. A proposal would kill her.”

“So is that a no?” Chase smiled.

“No, it’s not a no.” Eve pulled him close, leaning her head on his chest. “Let’s just call it a ‘not right now,’ okay?” She gently bit his bottom lip. “Babe, you know how I feel. I told you all about growing up not knowing my father.”

“I’d never do anything to hurt you, Eve. You’ve gotta believe me.”

“I do believe you. That’s what scares me.”

“Don’t be scared, babe. It’s okay to let yourself fall in love. Catching is what I do.” He laughed. “I got you, Evie.”

Eve glanced at her watch. Because Chase was notoriously late, she’d lied and told him that her plane was landing thirty minutes earlier than it really was. It wasn’t as if she worried about Chase being
with another woman. He knew better than to cheat on her and get caught, yet his love for attention from the media and his fans often left him distracted, which, in turn, always made him late. Eve shifted her Louis Vuitton bag again and reached for her cell phone. She saw that Amber had already called twice. She checked her voice mail.

“Hey, Evie! Just wondering if you made it in and double checking to make sure we’re still on for shopping tomorrow. It’s going to be great having you here for two whole weeks! Call me when you get this. Smooches!”

Eve cut her eyes when she noticed that the two nosy bitches had now turned into two sneaky bitches, pretending to take pictures of each other when it was clearly Eve that they were trying to capture in their shots.

“Oh no, you didn’t,” Eve said loud enough for the women to hear. She pushed her glasses down far enough so the bitches could see her eyes, then gave them a hard stare.

“Snap another picture and I’mma snap your fuckin’ necks,” she mumbled, causing the women to walk away.

“To delete this message press seven, to save it press nine,” her voice mail recording stated, reminding Eve that she was still on the phone. Eve deleted the message with a smile. She couldn’t wait to hang out with Amber and catch up on the latest gossip. She was glad that her childhood best friend was married to an athlete but hated the fact that Chase wasn’t a fan of Amber’s husband Sean. Chase claimed it had something to do with a beef he and Sean had over a chick during their years at USC, but Eve suspected otherwise. Although she pressed the issue a few times with the three of them, the only agreement she could reach was that whenever they were all together, they promised to be cordial.

Just as she began to dial Amber’s number, she heard the commotion.

“Chase, that’s Chase Landon’s truck! Since signing that new eighty-million dollar contract, pictures of him have tripled. Chase!
. . . Over here!” a slew of paparazzi shouted, interrupting Eve’s reverie.

She shifted her purse to her other arm just as Chase’s Range Rover pulled up to the curb. Because Chase was the Los Angeles Leopards’ most popular player, Eve knew flashing lights from the paparazzi were to be expected. She also knew that because of the paparazzi, she needed to be red-carpet ready when she got off the plane. Only once had Eve made the naïve mistake of arriving in sweats and tennis shoes sans makeup, costing her a month of unflattering blog reports and photos with captions like, “
WHAT WAS SHE THINKING?”
After that experience, she vowed that the paparazzi would never catch her slipping again.

Chase Landon emerged from the driver’s side with his eyes set on Eve. She sized him up as he slowly approached her. He looked good dressed in dark jeans and a cream Ralph Lauren sweater. Eve loved the way he wore his clothes. At six foot four, two-hundred-twenty-five pounds, he was the epitome of athletic perfection. Chase was an agent’s dream client, with camera-friendly looks that could position him in both
GQ
as a model and Air Jordan as a spokesperson. For added measure, he had a perfect set of teeth, compliments of three sets of braces that showcased an award-winning smile that he now flashed for Eve and the growing crowd of onlookers.

“You know I’m sucking in all of your beauty, don’t you, baby? I see you rocking those new Louis Vuitton shoes I sent you, too. You do ’em justice.”

Eve tried hard to contain herself as she blushed, handing him her bags. “You’re late,” she snapped hoping he didn’t hear her stomach growling, the true cause for her frustration.

“Never late, love. I’m always on time.” He kissed her on the cheek, smiled big for the cameras, then ushered her to the passenger-side door.

“Oh my God! That’s Chase Landon! I told you that was his girlfriend.”

“Chase, can we have your autograph?” one of the women squealed.

“Yes, and can you make mine out to Kandi with a K instead of a C and an I instead of a Y,” the other lady added.

“Oh my God, Chase, I love you . . .” the first woman screamed.

Eve slid into the passenger side, leaned her head against the soft leather seat, and closed her eyes. She knew it would be a minute. Chase Landon liked nothing better than attention. In fact, he welcomed it. If there was a backdoor entrance, he took the front; if the invitation said casual, he wore a tuxedo; and if the team needed someone to make a celebrity appearance, he was the first to volunteer. For those reasons and more, the fans and the media loved him, and he loved them right back!

Through the side-view mirror Eve watched as Chase signed T-shirts, caps, purses, and anything else that was handed to him. Cameras and cell phones flashed intermittently as the crowd began to grow. Suddenly there was a bright flicker of red and blue lights followed by three quick horn blasts. It was the traffic security on a motorcycle accompanied by two other officers on bicycles.

A voice came over the loudspeaker. “Clear the area!”

The crowd slowly began to disperse as Chase made his way over to the officer. Eve heard a quick exchange, then light banter, followed by laughter.

“If you follow me, Mr. Landon, I’ll get you out of here,” the officer advised, pulling alongside the truck.

“Thank you, kind sir, I’d appreciate that.”

Eve watched as Chase placed her bags into the trunk of his truck, then slammed it shut.

“Y’all know that’s about to be my wife, right? The future Mrs. Eve Vashay Inez-Landon. How’s that for a story?” he smiled, then he hopped into the truck and placed his hand gently on Eve’s thigh.

Eve removed her shades, cocked her head sideways, and smiled as she looked at Chase. “Really? You just gonna put me on blast like that?”

“What?” he smiled back, feigning innocence.

“Don’t
what
me. You know what.”

“Oh, you mean that? Aw, come on, baby. I was trying to leave, but you know I can’t disappoint my fans.”

“Oh, please! You know you love that shit. For you, attention is like flour, and you roll around in it like a piece of chicken!”

“So what are you trying to say?”

“What I’ve always said.
You,
Chase Everett Landon, are a media whore.”

“Okay, there you go with that again. Well, if I’m a media whore, you know what that makes you!”

“What?” She couldn’t imagine where he was going with this.

“Well, let’s see. You’re supportive, you buy me nice things, and you protect me from hurt, harm, and danger. I’d say that makes you a pimp!”

“A pimp?” Eve laughed as she gave him a playful smack on the back of the head.

“See,” he chuckled, “you just pimp-slapped me!”

The officer pulled into oncoming traffic, sounding his siren and flashing his lights as Chase prepared to follow. Just as Chase drove off, he pumped his brakes, making sure the paparazzi and fans got a glimpse of his brake lights glowing around a license plate that read
“CHASE ME
,” a signature phrase he lived on and off the field. Eve knew exactly what he was doing as she checked her side-view mirror, watching the reactions from the crowd. As usual, the fans loved it, and as the future Mrs. Eve Vashay Inez-Landon, she knew in her heart that she’d grow to love it too.

“I’ve missed you.” Chase reached for Eve’s hand.

Eve leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I’ve missed you, too. You get my message?”

“What? You know it. I played it over and over again. Matter of
fact, I was listening to it in the car on the way over.” Chase played Eve’s message again.

“HEY, BABE, I WANTED TO SAY I’M SORRY. I’VE BEEN THINKING A LOT ABOUT WHAT YOU SAID, AND YOU WERE RIGHT. I DO HAVE TO TRUST IN LOVE MORE. I JUST WANT YOU TO KNOW THAT I’M REALLY READY TO TRY. I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU TOMORROW. LOVE YOU.”