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.