Smitten

But now, I know, for a fact, Reed is being sincere. Yes, he loves Georgina. That much is clear and would be obvious to anyone who spends more than two minutes in their presence. The man is absolutely head over heels in love. But I also believe now, with all my heart, that Reed wouldn’t throw this much weight and clout and resources behind Alessandra and her little song if he didn’t sincerely think he was holding a tiger by its tail.

“Reed is telling the truth,” I whisper to Alessandra, squeezing her hand. “He’s a businessman, through and through. His reputation is too important to throw this much firepower at a ‘present’ for his girlfriend, no matter how much he loves her.”

Alessandra’s shoulders soften, and I know, for the first time, ever, she genuinely believes me this time. “Thank you, love.”

Love.

We said it to each other during the show, from afar. But we haven’t said it intimately yet.

“I love you, Alessandra,” I say simply.

“I love you, too, Matthew. With all my heart.”

And that’s it. We’re in love and we both know it. And it feels so good.

“Open a case of your finest champagne!” Reed shouts to the waiter. “We’re celebrating an amazing charity concert and the imminent birth of a superstar!” He indicates Alessandra with his whiskey glass at those last words, and then shouts, “Mark my words, this girl here is about to make every person at this table look like a fucking amateur!”

Twenty-Five

Alessandra

Wrapping up his story, Fish says to the group, “So, if any of you want Dax and me to grant your lifelong wish like two genies in a bottle, just say the word, and we’ll cast a magic warlock spell for you on German TV.”

The entire group laughs. The same way everyone laughs whenever Fish makes any sort of joke. Although, to be fair, this crowd would probably laugh at pretty much anything even slightly amusing right now, thanks to the booze and amazing food we all consumed at dinner earlier. To put it mildly, this isn’t a tough crowd for a comic.

Our group is entering Times Square now, after floating here from the restaurant a few blocks away. The usual crew surrounds us—all Fish’s closest friends, plus, Reed and Georgina, of course, and Georgina’s boss and her husband, and a smattering of bodyguards and personal assistants and significant others.

“Where is this damned billboard?” Dax says, looking around.

“Just around this corner, I think,” Keane says.

“No,” Maddy says. “This way, guys.”

“What the hell, Peen,” Colin says to Keane. “Weren’t you here mere hours ago?”

“Yeah, but I was sober then,” Keane replies, chuckling.

We turn a corner behind Maddy, our fearless leader, and, suddenly, there he is. Colin. Twenty feet tall. With ripped abs and a smolder like the cartoon hero in Tangled. Wearin’ nothin’ but his Calvins.

“Ka-bam, son!” Keane shouts, flinging his arm toward the billboard. “Told ya!”

“That’s not where you said, honey,” Maddy murmurs.

“Dude!” Fish exclaims, gawking at Colin’s towering, smoldering, ripped image. “Look at the size of your wang!”

Everyone bursts out laughing, because it’s exactly what we were all thinking. Damn. That’s one massive wang.

“It’s a sock,” Colin admits. “I’m a big boy, but I’m not that big.”

We reach the perfect spot for photos, and everyone pulls out their phones and starts taking selfies, most of them including perfect imitations of Colin’s posing and smolder in the billboard.

When it’s Fish’s turn to stand in front of the billboard and imitate Colin’s body positioning and facial expression, he nails it. In fact, he’s doing the best imitation of Colin by far, even better than Keane’s. So, naturally, everyone standing around Fish begins screaming with laughter and cheering him on.

Which attracts attention . . .

And then causes a group of passersby to recognize some of the famous faces in our group. A frenzy of excitement ensues as fans ask for selfies, which then provokes the bodyguards in our group to step forward to manage things.

Fish and I step back from the fray, our hands clasped, and watch the mayhem for a long moment. There are several famous people here, of varying degrees. But, clearly, the two biggest draws are Dax and Aloha. There’s no doubt about it.

“Do people react like this to Dax, often?” I ask, as a young woman literally bursts into tears as she hugs him.

“Every day,” Fish confirms.

“I’d have a nervous breakdown.”

“He’s often right on the cusp. If it weren’t for Violet and Jackson, I’m sure he’d have had one by now.”

“And you and Colin,” I say.

“We do our best.”

“Fish!” a voice shouts. And when we look toward the sound, a young woman is excitedly jumping up and down and asking for a selfie. “You’re my favorite Goat!” she squeals. “I was at the show tonight! I cried so hard when Dax finally let you sing!” She shoots a withering glare across the crowd at Dax. “He should let you do it more! I’ve always said you have an amazing voice!”