to her body. It was from an up and coming designer. With the help of Spanx, some body parts were given extra boosts. Her hair was parted in the middle and fell down in beachy waves to her shoulders.
Simone beamed at him. “Thanks. And you’re looking good too.”
“ As always,” he replied arrogantly. He brushed his shoulders. He had decided to go the formal route and picked out an Armani suit. The garment fit him impeccably and showed off his body to a T.
Simone rolled her eyes, although he was right. Even before they were married and he would come into the diner he always looked hot, even if he was just wearing a pair of running pants and a T-shirt.
J.T. nodded towards the sofa. “Let’s talk before it gets too crazy.”
“ Sure.” She strolled over to the couch, then gingerly lowered herself. “I didn’t practice sitting down in this dress, hopefully, I’ll make it.” She held her breath while slowly making her descent and exhaled loudly when she made contact. She had brought a second dress just in case something happened to this one. “Made it.”
J.T. wiped a hand across his brow. “Whew! That was touch and go for a minute. I was waiting for it to split.” They both laughed at the image. J.T. sat down next to her, Simone patiently waited for him to talk. “Having a good time?”
“ I am,” she gushed. “I love L.A., just love it.”
J.T. had decided that since they were going to be in L.A. for the ESPY Awards Ceremony that they spend the week on the West coast. Aleesha had booked them a room at the Ritz-Carlton and Simone loved it. She was still getting used to be married to a celebrity and it felt funny to her to have so many people fawn over her and to be at her beck and call.
“ You know that Marcella will be with us during the interviews?”
“ Yes,” she replied, wondering where he was going.
“ And you know that the eyes of the sporting world will be on us?”
“ Yes.”
“ This is very important to me.”
“ I know, J.T. you don’t have to worry. I know my role.” And I have my script memorized, she said to herself. Marcella had drilled her on correct responses to interview questions. And when a reporter didn’t bow to Marcella’s demands and send the questions over before the interview, Marcella pulled questions from her vast history and threw them at her.
Simone could recite the story of how and when she and J.T. met, a couple anecdotes about their honeymoon and the advantages of being married to the top NFL player. Marcella even made them give each other cute nicknames that were totally vomit worthy. Marcella had done such a good job of drumming it into her that she dreamt about it.
“ Just show everybody that I’m your man and you love me,” he said shyly, after casting his gaze downward like a child.
Simone cupped his chin and lifted his face, they studied each other before she spoke. “J.T. I do love you. I don’t have to fake that,” she insisted. And she did love J.T. although, like she would a brother or a favorite cousin. “I know exactly what to do,” she reassured him. Then she did something that made him smile, she stood up and grabbed his hand. And without any reporters around, without any fans lurking, and without any paparazzi barreling towards them, they strolled hand-in-hand out of their suite and faced the public together.
A couple hours later after the exhausting rounds of interviews, J.T. and Simone were walking the red carpet, stopping every couple of steps to be photographed. Simone was almost blinded from the flashes, but not quite, she was still able to see the star studded attendees.
“ Isn’t that Dirk Nowitzki?” she whispered to her husband.
“ Yep,” he answered before posing for the camera. They scooted a few steps.
Simone frowned. “Oh, look, there’s Kobe,” she said, immediately dismissing him. She wasn’t impressed.
J.T. pasted on a fake smile. “Be nice, he’s cool.”
“ Yeah, as a snake,” she
Simone beamed at him. “Thanks. And you’re looking good too.”
“ As always,” he replied arrogantly. He brushed his shoulders. He had decided to go the formal route and picked out an Armani suit. The garment fit him impeccably and showed off his body to a T.
Simone rolled her eyes, although he was right. Even before they were married and he would come into the diner he always looked hot, even if he was just wearing a pair of running pants and a T-shirt.
J.T. nodded towards the sofa. “Let’s talk before it gets too crazy.”
“ Sure.” She strolled over to the couch, then gingerly lowered herself. “I didn’t practice sitting down in this dress, hopefully, I’ll make it.” She held her breath while slowly making her descent and exhaled loudly when she made contact. She had brought a second dress just in case something happened to this one. “Made it.”
J.T. wiped a hand across his brow. “Whew! That was touch and go for a minute. I was waiting for it to split.” They both laughed at the image. J.T. sat down next to her, Simone patiently waited for him to talk. “Having a good time?”
“ I am,” she gushed. “I love L.A., just love it.”
J.T. had decided that since they were going to be in L.A. for the ESPY Awards Ceremony that they spend the week on the West coast. Aleesha had booked them a room at the Ritz-Carlton and Simone loved it. She was still getting used to be married to a celebrity and it felt funny to her to have so many people fawn over her and to be at her beck and call.
“ You know that Marcella will be with us during the interviews?”
“ Yes,” she replied, wondering where he was going.
“ And you know that the eyes of the sporting world will be on us?”
“ Yes.”
“ This is very important to me.”
“ I know, J.T. you don’t have to worry. I know my role.” And I have my script memorized, she said to herself. Marcella had drilled her on correct responses to interview questions. And when a reporter didn’t bow to Marcella’s demands and send the questions over before the interview, Marcella pulled questions from her vast history and threw them at her.
Simone could recite the story of how and when she and J.T. met, a couple anecdotes about their honeymoon and the advantages of being married to the top NFL player. Marcella even made them give each other cute nicknames that were totally vomit worthy. Marcella had done such a good job of drumming it into her that she dreamt about it.
“ Just show everybody that I’m your man and you love me,” he said shyly, after casting his gaze downward like a child.
Simone cupped his chin and lifted his face, they studied each other before she spoke. “J.T. I do love you. I don’t have to fake that,” she insisted. And she did love J.T. although, like she would a brother or a favorite cousin. “I know exactly what to do,” she reassured him. Then she did something that made him smile, she stood up and grabbed his hand. And without any reporters around, without any fans lurking, and without any paparazzi barreling towards them, they strolled hand-in-hand out of their suite and faced the public together.
A couple hours later after the exhausting rounds of interviews, J.T. and Simone were walking the red carpet, stopping every couple of steps to be photographed. Simone was almost blinded from the flashes, but not quite, she was still able to see the star studded attendees.
“ Isn’t that Dirk Nowitzki?” she whispered to her husband.
“ Yep,” he answered before posing for the camera. They scooted a few steps.
Simone frowned. “Oh, look, there’s Kobe,” she said, immediately dismissing him. She wasn’t impressed.
J.T. pasted on a fake smile. “Be nice, he’s cool.”
“ Yeah, as a snake,” she
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