"That seems a bit unnecessary," I said.
Jackson shrugged. "They weren't invited."
"No, they weren't," said the tournament president. "They promised this photographer a great scene if he bribed the doorman to let them in. It was all just a publicity stunt."
Neither Fenton nor Kev could deny what the man said. The photographer mouthed “sorry” to them just before the security guards grappled them out the back door. One took Kev, while the other four surrounded Fenton.
He glanced over their shoulders and I felt the cut of his laser blue eyes. "You coming?"
Jackson said, "Don't worry, Kya, I won't let this little scene stand in the way of our business."
"No, you're right," I said. "I'm going to stay. I can't let your crazy publicity stunts get in the way of my business anymore."
Fenton shook off the four security guards and strode out the back door himself. I waited until the office cleared. I took a few steps towards the back door, and then changed my mind again. I followed Jackson out into the banquet hall.
"Normally, I'm all for making a scene, but that was a bit much even for me," Sienna said to her semi-circle of cameras.
Jackson joined her and slid a comforting arm around her shoulders. Sienna shrunk back then recovered and gave the cameras a bright smile.
"No wonder you came looking for a higher class of athlete. We might not have crazy parties in luxury suites, but we at least know how to treat a woman," Jackson said.
Sienna shrugged his arm off and rubbed her neck. "It seems like the only people that know how I want to be treated are my friends and my fans."
"Speaking of your friends, I was hoping your entourage would liven this place up," Jackson said. He stepped back into the shot and Sienna backed away.
"That wasn't lively enough for you?" I asked.
Jackson dropped the hand reaching for Sienna's waist and turned to me. "What can I say? I like a little fun and excitement in my afternoons." He stepped aside to talk to the head organizer of the golf luncheon.
"Are you okay?" I asked Sienna. My back was to the cameras and I spoke as quietly as possible.
"Why do you ask?" Sienna tossed her hair.
"You're usually so bouncy, but now, I don't know, you seem a little jumpy," I said.
Sienna looked at Jackson. He smiled, and she swallowed hard. "This just isn't my crowd."
"What is it?" I asked.
"Sorry, Jackson, but I just heard there's a margarita-making contest at Caesar's that needs a judge." Sienna motioned to her camera crew. "Come on, boys, we're outta here."
Jackson took my arm and led me to a long table set with a white linen tablecloth. The president of the golf association and his wife sat across from us.
"And, people wonder why we have such a rigorous screening and interview process for membership at our club," the president said.
"I apologize, sir, I thought a little on-air time would be good for us," Jackson said.
"Of course. It had nothing to do with you," the president nodded. "It just goes to show that people's true class, or lack thereof, will always show through."
I sat wondering if the entire incident had nothing or everything to do with Jackson McRay. There was something stiff about his smile, but over the course of lunch, he relaxed.
"Please, let me escort you back to the hotel," he said at the end of the gathering. He signaled a driver and soon we were ensconced in a black town car. "I feel like I need to apologize for my association president and the head organizer. They are quick to judge. I'm sure Fenton is under a lot of pressure these days."
"Thank you for having some understanding," I said. I leaned back on the comfortable leather seats. "You're right. I have seen athletes start to crack under the pressure and their judgment is usually the first thing to go."
"As long as it doesn’t blow back at you," Jackson said. He took my hand and kissed the back of it. "I hate to think of you being surrounded by scummy managers and boxing coaches and fighters. Wasn't this afternoon a pleasant change?"
I had to agree. Despite the superior remarks about Fenton and Sienna, the luncheon had been entirely pleasant. "Yes, thank you. It was just the break I needed."
Jackson held my hand, a comforting and sweet gesture, all the way to the Tropicana. The driver jumped out to open the door for me, but it was Jackson that rushed around to help me out of the car. I could not help but feel like a princess when I was with Jackson McRay. He was the very model of a charming prince.
"Ms. Allen, I was hoping to see you here," a man's voice hailed us. Mario Peretti appeared out of a limousine.
"Sorry. Ms. Allen is not interested in speaking with you right now," Jackson said. He curled a long arm out in front to shield me. His hand on the small of my back ushered me towards the casino.
I stopped and stood my ground. "It's okay, Jackson. I know him. What can I do for you, Mr. Peretti?"
"So, formal now. Let me guess, you spent the afternoon with his kind," Mario said. He smirked at Jackson's outfit and then stepped between us.
Jackson laid a heavy hand on Mario's shoulder. Though the MMA fighter was shorter, he made quick work of shrugging off the hand and forcing Jackson to take a step back.
"What do you want," I asked. I put both hands on my hips.
"Just a photograph," Mario said. His smile curled up with mischief. "I'm a fan, you're a fan, let's just get a quick pic together."
"Why? So you can use it to rile Fenton up?" I asked. I started to walk towards the hotel lobby.
"Exactly," Mario said.
Jackson laughed. "I like it. Let's do it." He reached out and grabbed my arm, pulling me back, and then giving me a push towards Mario.
"No, thank you," I said. I looked to Jackson expecting him to shield me again and help me get inside.
He held out an arm to block me from the hotel lobby. "Give me the camera and give Ms. Allen here a quick kiss," he said.
"Jackson! No. Stay away from me, Mario," I said.
The fighter lunged and wrapped an arm around my waist. "Sorry, Kya. Normally, I'm really sweet, ask anyone. It's just this is a good way to get an edge of him."
I pressed hard against his chest and tried to hold him back. Jackson laughed again and waited until Mario stole a kiss, then he snapped the picture.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Kya
I shook Jackson off in the lobby and made my way through the casino alone. The fact that he had allowed, actually pushed me into, a compromising photograph with Mario Peretti made me feel ill. It was clear that everything Jackson did was to suit himself. That was not how a true gentleman acted.
I rushed to the elevators and up to the suite. I still was not clear on what had happened at the golf luncheon, but now I had reason to doubt both sides. The truth had to be somewhere in the middle. Unfortunately, Fenton was already gone.
"Is he going to come back and change for the party?" I asked Sandi.
She stopped setting out her makeup kit and looked up. "No, he's already changed."
"Are you okay? What's the matter?" I dropped my purse on the couch, realizing she was there to help me get ready for the party myself.