Chapter 3 Desiree Dixon

A Mural He Can Point To

“You haven’t taken a day off in the last year, Desi. This is your father’s first major event, and you should be there,” Bea says.

Bea is my boss’s secretary, and I know she’s right. I also know if Bea is saying it, it’s because she’s repeating my boss, Angelica.

I sigh. The Vegas Aces announced my father as their new offensive coordinator nearly four months ago, and my parents moved there immediately. They bought a house, and I haven’t been out to see it yet. I keep citing work as my reason, but the truth is that I could do my job in my sleep most days. Every event is unique and different, but I’m a junior event planner, so everything I do gets approved and overridden by Angelica anyway.

I love my job…most days. But some days—like today—it feels like one frustration after another as I’m on the line for our clients to scream at while Angelica gets to swoop in with my solutions as if she is the hero here.

I’m tired of that piece of it, and I know if I were working for myself, I wouldn’t have those issues. But I’m not, and it’s important to me that I learn from an expert in the field so I can build my empire from the ground up rather than throwing money into something I’m still learning.

My dad thinks I should start my own company. My mom agrees. I saw the way they looked around the tiny two-bedroom places Addy and I were looking at when we first graduated from college, but it was all we could afford on our salaries. I’m their only child, and their only wish is to spoil me, which is why they pay the monthly rent at an upscale place right on the water in San Diego.

And that’s why I text my mom after Bea convinces me to go.

Me: My boss gave me tomorrow through Monday off. Can I come visit?

Mom: Of course! I’ll call up Vicki for the plane ticket.

Vicki is her travel agent, and an hour later, a first-class plane ticket to Vegas leaving early tomorrow morning appears in my email.

Me: Thanks, Mom. Can’t wait to see you.

Mom: Fly safe. I’ll arrange for a car service to bring you home.

Me: I’m fine with a Lyft.

Mom: Just let me do this for you. [smiley face]

At noon the next day, the car she sent for me pulls up to a gorgeous mansion with palm trees lining the sidewalk leading to the front door. I step out into the dry ninety-eight degrees of mid-June in Vegas, weather I’m not used to back home since we live near the humid beach, and the driver gets my suitcase for me.

I knock on the rather large wooden front door, and my mom opens it a minute later. “Desiree Joy, I’ve missed you so!” she says, pulling me into a hug.

We’ve never gone four months without seeing each other. Ever.

But I’ve also never been twenty-five and living in a different city from my parents, either.

I sigh as she holds me a few extra beats, and then she invites me in.

“Dad’s at work. Let me show you around and then we can head to the Shops at Crystals and find you a gown.”

“Sounds good. The event is tomorrow?” I ask.

She nods. “The annual Vegas Aces Charity Ball. I booked salon appointments for us this afternoon and tomorrow morning. Dad was able to secure a last-minute ticket for you, but I don’t think you’ll be at our table.”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll make friends.” I’m fairly outgoing most of the time, and I’ve never been intimidated by football players since I grew up around them.

But I have to be honest here. I don’t know many players on the Aces. They’re not in our division or our conference, so we don’t regularly play against them.

And I kind of like that fact. They won’t know me either, unless my dad has a picture of me in his office…which definitely seems like something he’d do. Maybe a full-length mural so he can point to me and tell them to stay away.

But with my dad here now, hopefully I’ll get to know some of the players—at least through watching the games from my couch back in San Diego, probably late Sunday nights since I’m usually working on Sundays.

My mom shows me around the seven-bedroom mansion that’s just for the two of them, and it’s…a lot. Way more than they need, but they love nothing more than to show off their money.

The money didn’t come from my dad’s playing days. Player contracts weren’t worth half of what they are now, and his more recent position as a position coach didn’t pay all that much, though the OC position came with more money.

My mother hails from the fortune of the Berkshire line of luxury hotels. In the early 1900s, my mom’s grandfather purchased a local hotel in Los Angeles that became one of the most popular hotels around. Over a hundred years later, Berkshire boasts fourteen different brands of hotels and over five thousand locations worldwide.

When I graduated from college, I was offered a position on the executive board. I declined, and my parents were devastated since I’m the sole heiress to the Berkshire fortune.

But I can still be the heiress without being on the board. Hotels don’t interest me other than as a place to stay, and it’s not like my mom serves on the board any longer, either.

“Who will be at your table?” I ask.

"Oh, the defensive coordinator, head coach, and general manager. Plus their wives.” She lifts a shoulder.

“Have you made friends with all these people?”

“A bit with Barb Shanahan,” she says. When she sees my quirked brows that definitely tell on me that I have no idea who that is, she clarifies. “The general manager’s wife.”

“Ah. And the others?”

“We’re quite a bit older than the others. The head coach isn’t even in his forties yet, though he and his wife are a lovely couple. And the defensive coordinator is great, too. Your father has gotten close with everyone here already, but you know how he is.”

I do. He’s social, which is where I get that trait, while my mom leans toward the quieter side—likely as a means of protection since as soon as people know who she is, they want every detail about how much money she has in the bank. But my dad makes friends wherever he goes, and I think it’s one of the things my mom fell for when she went against her parents’ wishes and married the bad boy football player.

Though I’ll be honest, my nose scrunches up in disgust every time she calls him that.

I settle into the bedroom my parents chose for me, and then we head toward the CityCenter complex for shopping and pampering.

We return home relaxed after a massage, facial, manicure, and pedicure, and my dad is there waiting for us.

So is the personal chef my mom hired when they moved in here.

I hug my dad and greet the chef, and my dad and I plop onto the couch as we wait for dinner.

“How’s it going with the Aces?” I ask.

“It’s been great so far. I’m working as a team with the coach and the GM, and the three of us are drafting up the kind of playbook I’ve always dreamed of.”

I laugh.

“What?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No, it’s just…we have very different dreams, I guess.” Mine tend to be about my book boyfriends swooping in with the ultimate fantasy, not that I’d admit that to my dad.

He narrows his eyes at me. “Let’s not go there. I got to test out some of the plays this week with our mandatory minicamp, and it’s been everything I was hoping for. The players are receptive, the coaching staff is welcoming…it’s been incredible.”

“I’m happy for you. But I miss you two and our Tuesday night dinners.”

He reaches over and squeezes my knee playfully, and I bat his hand away as he laughs. It’s our thing.

“We miss you, too, Desi-doo.”

I went through a Scooby Doo phase when I was a kid, and the nickname stuck.

“Are you okay all by yourself back home?” he asks.

I nod. “Of course I’m okay. I’ve got work plus Addy, Chloe, and Lauren. I’m keeping busy and allowing some time for fun.”

He smirks at me. “Not too much fun, though, right?”

I roll my eyes. “Of course not.” He doesn’t need to know what I do in my spare time. My entire life, he’s issued cautionary tales about behaving myself, but sometimes I don’t want to behave.

My mom has the makeup artists and hairstylists over to the house to help us get ready for tonight, and I slide into my gown, a strapless, gold embroidered leaf pattern over sheer tulle that offers peeks of skin. I pair it with strappy stilettos and check myself in the mirror. My red hair is curled into loose waves, and I feel pretty in this dress, like the golden color is a warm complement to my fair skin, bright hair, and green eyes.

I feel ready . Ready to meet my dad’s players. Ready to party. Ready to let go and have a little fun.

And fun always starts with shots—just maybe not when I’m with Mom and Dad.

My parents are gorgeous in their dressy fits when I walk down to meet them in the foyer, and my dad shakes his head as his eyes fall on me while I descend the staircase. “I don’t know if this is such a good idea.”

I shrug. “I’m here, and I’m ready, so it’s too late to pull the protective dad card now.”

He sighs as I reach the bottom step, and he slings an arm around me. “You’re too good for them, Desi-Doo.” His voice is soft.

“I know, I know. And I promise to behave myself.” I cross my fingers behind my back, just in case.

I’m not going to embarrass him or anything, but I’m in Vegas. Sin City. The Entertainment Capital of the World.

What happens here doesn’t have to stay here, and I plan on having one hell of a good time tonight so I have some stories to bring back home with me.