Running Back (New York Leopards 2)

I twisted around to see him. “You? A tried and true Bostonian?”

He lowered his head close enough that our lips almost brushed. “I didn’t say it was a good movie.”

On the other side of the bridge, we passed palaces dressed as museums, with huge posters of artwork hanging down their sides and lines of people curving up the steps. We turned onto the Champs-élysées, that great, grand boulevard that ran through the center of the city. I caught a glimpse of the Place de la Concorde, where Marie Antoinette and countless others died, where today an obelisk from Egypt struck up into the darkening sky.

The hotel stood just outside the city limits, built sometime in the eighties when nothing was allowed to rise over a hundred and twenty one feet. Even with the new zoning laws, buildings couldn’t rise too high; nothing could ruin the famous Parisian skyline.

“Okay,” Mike said when we were in the elevator. “Here’s my technique at these things. Smile a lot. Laugh at people who need affirmation of their own cleverness.”

“You get a lot of those?”

He looked vaguely suffering. “It’s the entire one percent.”

We got out of the elevator into a room of low lights and voices, lower couches, and a sweeping glass panorama of Paris. Glittering people circulated before the backdrop. A woman in black watched me with narrowed eyes. Did she know how out of place I was?

I ignored her and took in the view. The entire city was laid out in a stream of bright streaks, from the toy-sized tower to the star of avenues surrounding the Arc de Triomphe.

I’d just turned back to Mike when someone flung her arms around him. It took me a moment to recognize the sleek haired brunette in impeccable make-up and a fitted red dress as Rachael Hamilton. Her own eyes widened on seeing me. “Wow, you’re much...taller than I remembered.”

I lifted a foot. “It’s the heels. Also, I think having my hair coiled at the top of my head adds to the illusion.”

She studied me a minute longer, and then her eyes relaxed. “It’s good to see you, even if I have to crane my neck to do it.”

Mike gave Rachael an absent pat on the back, his eyes searching the room. “I’m going go find the guys.” He squeezed my hand. “Be right back.”

We both watched him go. I felt slightly amazed. “Wow. He was super into me before we arrived and now I’ve been abandoned in the first thirty seconds.”

Rachael laughed. “They’ve been friends a long time. I’m sure they’ll all be back in a minute. I’ll show you our table.”

She led me over to some low couches, and Briana Harris, former star of Boomerang, a pretty decent show about the boomerang generation. She drew her eyes over me and frowned. “You don’t look how I remember.”

I was surprised she’d actually remembered me at all, given that she’d met me for half a minute outside Radio City Music Hall.

“In fact,” she said, taking a sip of wine, “You look like Tamara Bocharov.”

Rach dropped down, and I also sat. She pushed a plate of cheese and grapes at me. “That’s because she’s Bocharov’s daughter.”

I swiveled her way. “Did Mike tell you that?”

“No. I just have extensive Googling skills.”

Briana sat up straight. “Why didn’t you tell me that?”

Rachael rolled her eyes. “I guess I was caught up in the ohmigod, archaeology’s awesome thing. Sorry.” She flashed me a smile. “I’m glad you came. I thought you and Mike looked good together.”

I was still processing that they knew about my mother, and that for once I was realizing it wasn’t as big a deal as I’d always blown it up to be. “Really?”

“Okay, not at first. But Mike had never been so tight lipped about anyone before—he sounded almost mad at you when he first mentioned you. But I’d really liked you in our two-second meeting, so I decided to experiment.”

Bri shook her head. “Your tact is incredible.”

“But I was right, wasn’t I? They’re here together. And when Ryan came back from minicamp, he said Mike was—” Rachael stopped and looked at me. “Well, I think I was right.”

I was having a very surreal moment where I pictured Mike and Ryan Carter wearing their uniforms and talking about me while practicing plays. And then Ryan Carter turning around and discussing me with his girlfriend. I just could not picture that.

Bri sighed forlornly. “Malcolm didn’t say anything. He doesn’t believe in gossip.”

“Malcolm is obviously a better person then the rest of us. I’ve learned to live with that.”