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been jammed with buyers, industry bigwigs, and employees of other exhibiting companies, all of them with one form or another of business with JAG, and most of them hoping to steal a glimpse of Shane Kennedy in the flesh. We had run around all day trying to attend to everyone, and it had been absolutely crazy.
    Kent loosened his tie and leaned back in his chair. “I feel like I was just run over by a train. Did any of you even get a chance to walk around the show floor and check out the other booths?”
    “Are you kidding me?” Davey laughed. “I barely had time to use the restroom.”
    I pressed my face flat on the conference table. “I need a margarita. And a massage. And did I mention a margarita?”
    “I haven’t even seen the trade show bunnies yet,” Davey said. “What a rip-off.”
    Shane looked at him. “Trade show bunnies?”
    “You know, the lovely ladies hired to attract visitors to the various booths,” Davey said.
    “Also known as trade show bimbos, in some circles,” I said, my face still flat on the table.
    Davey laughed. “In your circles, you mean.”
    I raised my head and pointed at him. “Hey now! Someone needs to take a stand against the shameless exploitation of women, right?”
    “Oh please, like you didn’t want to be a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader when you were a kid?” Kent said.
    I laughed. “Okay, busted.”
    “So who’s up for a huge dinner on JAG to celebrate a job well done?” Davey said. “I’m starving.”
    I raised my arm. “Count me in.”
    “Me too,” Kent said.
    Shane nodded. “Sounds good to me.”
    A half-hour later we were seated at a large booth at the back of Morton’s Steakhouse. When he’d seen who we were with, the maître d’ had been kind enough to put us in a back corner where Shane wouldn’t be super-noticeable, not that a six-foot-eight man isn’t super-noticeable everywhere. Then we ate and ate and ate until we couldn’t eat anymore.
    I tapped my fork against my wine glass. “All right, gentlemen, I would like to make an announcement.”
    “This should be good,” Davey said.
    “For the record, I’m going to work out every day for a week straight when I get home. Understood?” I said.
    They all nodded.
    I smiled. “Excellent, I’m glad we’re clear on that. Now may I please see the dessert menu?”
    The waiter brought out a dessert cart with every possible sweet you could want: pastries, cakes, sundaes, pies, and cookies. And I wanted everything. Everything! But I controlled myself and decided on the cheesecake … and a chocolate cookie.
    I swallowed a bite of cheesecake and turned to Shane. “So, Mr. Kennedy, how are you able to take a few days off to be here with us? Isn’t the NBA in full swing?”
    He pushed his sleeves about thirty-six inches up to his elbows. “Actually, we play the Hawks here in Atlanta on Saturday, so we had today off, and tomorrow and Friday I’ll practice with the team in the afternoon.”
    “Thank God for that,” Kent said.
    I nodded. “No kidding. Who would care about those stupid basketball shoes without you?”
    “Good point,” Davey said, pointing his fork at me. “But keep that to yourself.”
    “Hey, Shane, is Kristina doing any work at the show?” I said.
    Kent looked at me. “Who?”
    “His wife, Kristina Santana. You know, the Olympic figure skater?” I said.
    “You’re married to Kristina Santana? Really? I didn’t know that,” Kent said to Shane.
    I rolled my eyes. “Hello? How can you not know that? Don’t you watch Entertainment Tonight ?”
    “Is that on ESPN?” Kent said.
    “Guys are worthless,” I said. Kristina Santana was as famous for her beauty and brains as for her jumping ability. After winning a silver medal at the Olympics, she’d gone on to become a pediatrician. She was also the new spokesperson for Whisper perfume, so her face was everywhere.
    “She’s amazing. You two are going to have bionic children—very smart, attractive bionic children,” I said