Diamonds Are Forever (22 page)

“Thank you,
thank you
,” the short fan said, taking Damian’s hand and practically bowing.  “Thank you for stopping for the picture, always heard you were a nice guy, I can’t wait to tell my fiancée it’s true.  She loves you too – maybe a little too much, you know?” He laughed, his friends shaking their heads at his excitement.  “And thank you,
thank you
for choosing the Knicks.  I’ve never been more excited for a season to start.”

“Ah, well,” Damian shook his head with a smile.  “Thank
you
for your kind words.”

“My name’s Jerry.  Here, come,” Jerry said, gesturing for Damian to join Gemma and his friends.  “Take a shot with us.  I’m getting married soon and what a way to send me off from my single life, right?”

“Oh, I don’t know…” Damian started.  Gemma watched as Jerry unabashedly led Damian to them, completely fine with the fact that they were two grown men unnecessarily holding hands.  She laughed as Damian went along with it, surprisingly understanding of Jerry’s excitement.

“C’mon, just one quick shot!” Jerry begged.  “We won’t take a picture or videotape it or nothing, promise.  Right, fellas?” He pointed at his friends to put away their phones.  They did so, dutifully.  In their place, they pulled out red tumblers, handing an extra one to Damian and Gemma.

“These
aren’t
shot glasses,” Damian laughed.

“No, no, no, don’t worry, don’t worry,” Jerry said, pointing at a wiry friend of his who was holding a bottle of tequila.  “Anthony here, he’s a bartender, he knows his way around a free pour.  Just one shot, Anthony, you hear?”

Anthony tipped the bottle, free pouring well past a single shot.  Damian raised an eyebrow, looking over at Gemma.  Clearly, he was beyond the point of judging what a shot meant.  He continued to pour liberally with his friends who had pooled their cups together.  Anthony twirled the bottle in a circle, attempting some sort of bar trick that just wasn’t happening.  By the time he got to Gemma, she held out her cup giggling.  She was too amused to turn it down.

“Tell me when,” Anthony teased.  Gemma let him pour past the single shot point, to match the rest of the men.  She shrugged a mischievous shoulder as they all cheered.  The group held up their cups, toasting.

“To Jerry and his new life!” the group shouted.

“To Damian Evans as a Knick!” Jerry yelled, nudging Damian excitedly.  The group knocked back their shots.  Gemma felt the burn of the tequila making its way down her throat.

“Woo!” she squeaked, surprising herself as she finished the double shot.  The group laughed, giving her pats on the back as they said their goodbyes.  She took Damian by the hand and ran from the front entrance, feeling a slight tilt in her vision. 
Well, that was fast,
she smiled to herself.

Out on the main street, they hit the giant crowd, streaming up and down The Strip in giant, intoxicated groups.  Gemma tightened her grip on Damian, turning back to look up at him.

“Where are we going?” Gemma asked.  He stood there, thinking for a moment before taking Gemma’s arms and pulling her up onto his back.  He held her legs around his waist as he walked, giving Gemma a good view over the crowd.  Damian marched with a purpose, expertly weaving through the huge mass of people.

They took a turn, ending up on a long, winding path towards the entrance of the next hotel.  As the road cleared, Damian picked up his pace.  Gemma giggled, leaning in to press her parted lips to his neck.  She could see him smile out of the corner of her eye.

“Oh my
God
!” a voice squealed.  Gemma frowned before she looked up.  She could just tell from the tone that one of them had been recognized again.  Two girls stood drunkenly before them, swigging on some mystery beverage in a shared, pink damask flask.

“No fucking way, no fucking way,” said the redheaded girl in the green tube dress.  Her hair was messy and undone.  Her blonde friend looked just as disheveled.  They held up a copy of
June
Magazine,
the one featuring Gemma and her designs.

“I just told Jess here that I’m done with the club scene, I want to focus on my career, I want to be like Queen Fucking Bee like I said I would be when I was like twelve years old,” the redhead said.  Then she leaned in, slurring her words in a loud whisper.  “I’m not even old enough to drink, I’m only eighteen, but I have a fake and they just let me in everywhere here and then they kicked me out and now I have this and they can’t stop me!”

“Okay,” Gemma said, jumping down from Damian’s shoulders.  She shot a quick smile at the two girls before pushing Damian forward.  “Thank you so much and good luck with everything!”

“Wait, no, wait!” the redhead said, grabbing Gemma by the arms.  “I just got dumped.”  Her face crumpled and she started crying, dropping to her knees. 
Oh, God.  Come on.

“I…” Gemma started, trying her hardest not to stomp in frustration.  “I’m sorry.”

“Can I get a picture with you? Or something?” she sobbed, her face streaked with leaking fluids. 
You want a picture? Like that?
Gemma thought, feeling a mix of confusion and pity.  Her friend, Jess, tried to pick her up off the floor but she failed miserably, falling forward in a drunken heap.  Gemma could hear Damian holding back laughter as he paced back and forth, behind them, unable to keep still.

“Um,” Gemma said.  “Do you have a camera?”

“Yes,” the girl sobbed, holding her phone out to Damian.

“Do you want to… get up, maybe?” he suggested, staring at the two girls on the floor.

“You know, I’m just going to, um,” Gemma shook her head, kneeling down beside the two girls.  They lifted their heads just enough to have their faces in the picture.  Damian snapped it quickly, placing the phone gently beside the girls’ hands before taking Gemma’s and making a beeline towards the lobby.

“No more stops!” he laughed, looking back at her.  “The gossip blogs can say whatever they want about us spurning fans, but I
really
can’t stop again.”

But to his dismay, he couldn’t hold to his own word.  The next group who stopped him was everything he couldn’t say no to – an elderly couple with their ten-year-old grandson who stood in awe as Damian passed by him.  He wore Damian’s Warriors jersey and managed to utter a tiny squeak as he tugged on his grandfather’s sleeve.  Damian and Gemma were already in line, waiting as patiently as they could to be attended to at the front counter of the resort next door.  The line was shockingly long, as it seemed an international group of tourists had just arrived and were all checking in at once.

“Should we even wait?” Gemma asked.  “Let’s just find the least popular spot in the city and just go.”  It was right at that moment that she noticed Damian kneeling to talk to the kid who had finally found the courage to approach him.  His grandparents were at a distance, sitting in the lobby bar and watching proudly.  As much as she was dying to just get Damian in bed already, her heart was warmed at the image.  He couldn’t help himself.

“Thank you, Mr. Evans,” the little kid said, admiring his newly signed jersey.  He returned to his grandparents as Damian got back on his feet.  Gemma slipped her arms around his waist, hugging him tight to her.

“You’re such a great guy,” Gemma said, leaning her head to his chest.  She laughed at her own words, realizing how cheesy they sounded aloud, even though she had meant them with all her heart.  “So, should we get out of here?”

“Yeah,” he replied, squeezing her hand as they turned around.  Right as they did, the little boy’s grandfather approached them with two lowball glasses.

“Oh, no, wait!” the old man said, holding the glasses out.  “I just bought you two some
very expensive
scotch.  As a thank you for being so incredibly kind to my grandson.  You didn’t have to do that but you did, and you made all our days.  You don’t know how much that meant to all of us.  You’re his hero, you mean everything to him.”

“Thank you,” Damian said, wincing slightly at being stopped again.  But a warm smile quickly replaced the expression, looking genuinely thankful for the gesture and kind words.

“It broke his heart that you’re leaving the team, but you know, I understand,” the old man said, holding his own glass up to toast Damian and Gemma.

“Aw, now you’re going to make me feel bad,” Damian said, frowning.

“Nah, he understands.  He maybe young but he’s a smart kid, everyone wants to play for their childhood team.  He knows you were just going home,” he said, taking a sip of his scotch and watching as Damian and Gemma did the same.  “Good, huh?”

Gemma nodded.  It was smooth and went down easy.

“Thank you so much, sir,” Damian said, holding up his drink.  “For the scotch and the kind words.  But if you’ll excuse us...”

“Oh, of course, of course,” the man said, waving them away.  “Go, go! We’ve held you long enough.”

Out in the entrance, a cab pulled in, dropping off a couple of club-hopping college kids.  They stumbled out, thankfully walking past Gemma and Damian without an ounce of recognition.  Damian stopped the cab, gesturing for Gemma to follow.

“You can’t bring drinks in here!” the driver yelled.  “I don’t need anymore messes, I’ve cleaned up four times in one hour.  No drinks!”

“Oh,” Damian said, looking at the glass in his hand.  There was still a good amount of scotch inside.  He turned to the closest person he could find, holding it out to them.  “Free drink,” he said, watching as the people walked by without even hearing him.  He laughed, turning back to Gemma.  She shrugged, knocking back her glass.  Unlike the tequila, it went down smooth with so little burn that she hardly realized she was drinking alcohol.  She turned to set the glass down on the oversized planters that adorned the front entrance.  Damian shrugged in return, repeating her actions before opening the back door for her.

She climbed into the backseat, feeling a tiny weight forming in her chest.  Gemma could feel it swaying, knocking her off-center.

“Oops,” she said, tipping over just slightly as she tried to sit up straight.  Damian followed her, wiping the corner of his lip with his thumb.

“That drink,” he started.  He took a deep breath and looked over at Gemma.  “Was surprisingly strong.”

“It tricked me.  It went down too easy.”

“He did say it was good scotch.”

“That’s why I didn’t want to waste it,” Gemma said, laughing.  Damian laughed with her as he leaned forward towards the driver.

“Hey, you know the town right?” he asked.  “Can you just take us to the
least
popular hotel where we can for sure, without a doubt, get a room
right away,
without a wait?”

The driver nodded, pulling the car back out onto the strip and into the heavy traffic.  Damian leaned back against his seat, groaning as he turned to look at Gemma.

“More waiting,” Damian said, putting a light hand on her thigh.

“I know,” she replied.  “But now we don’t have to worry about all that stopping in between.”  He nodded, leaning in to kiss her.  Gemma felt dizzy, though not in a way that alarmed her.  She was, without a doubt,
very
drunk but it felt oddly pleasant, especially in Damian’s arms.  Her mind swayed and rocked and her vision was beginning to blur.  But she didn’t care.  She could only focus on how great she felt in that moment.

Whatever.  Don’t think.  Be a little crazy.

BREAKING NEWS: DAMIAN EVANS AND GEMMA HUNTER GOT HITCHED IN VEGAS

Pop Dinner

August 22
^nd

So much for the rumors about Damian Evans being a commitment-phobe but otherwise classy guy.  In a single night, he managed to demonstrate that he is
neither
.

Evans was spotted exiting a Vegas chapel looking inebriated with, of all people, Queen Bee.  I know.  You were ready to never hear about her again too, right? Too bad.

Of all of Evans’ reported girlfriends, Gemma Hunter is by far the least hot and least famous and we can’t help but wonder if she talked her old friend into slapping his name on hers just so she could get back in the headlines.  After all, she supposedly has a new career, right?

Sure, if by “career” you mean “pet project” to keep from being called “unemployed” – which is what Damian Evans might wind up if he keeps partying the way he did last night.

Do us a favor here, Bee – don’t ruin Big D for us, alright? The world cares just a little more about the New York Knicks than they do about your pretend fashion line.  Thanks.

Gemma watched, her knees pulled up to her chest as she sat on Damian’s bed back in Brooklyn, watching him stand a few yards away while talking on the phone.

“Right.  I’ll be in touch about where to proceed from here.  Thank you again for you time.”

Once he hung up, she could tell from his expression that he didn’t have any good news for her.  She stared at him intently, her eyes asking her question.  He bit his lip, giving a short nod as he looked up at her.

“No,” she exhaled.  “It’s… real?” Gemma covered her mouth in disbelief. 
How?