“Probably cow’s milk is too.”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re probably right. Hey, come on, we better find our way to the ballroom. This is going to be so cool—a fashion show!”
“Yeah, super cool,” Duncan mumbled at the same time as Duper muttered, “Can’t wait.”
Duncan grinned at his buddy.
They handed over tickets and entered the ballroom. Sheer white panels hung on the walls, illuminated by blue and mauve lights, filling the room with a cool glow. Blue lights also lit up the floor of the stage and catwalk. Music pulsed and people milled about. A waiter in black pants and a black vest over a white shirt appeared with a tray of martinis in various colors. Jesus.
Duncan took one that wasn’t pink and took a sip. Not bad. Tasted like apples.
They said hi to folks from the Chicago Communities Program, for whom this event was raising money, and mingled with all the other people in the city who’d forked over two hundred bucks a ticket to be there that night. Duncan liked to socialize, but even though he earned more than most people in the room, even though he’d lived in Chicago for seven years, he still never felt like he quite fit in at fancy shindigs like this.
They schmoozed with Mick Rooney, one of the owners of the team, and his wife; with the CEO of Moens Breweries, who owned the other seventy percent of the team; then the chairman of the board of the Chicago Communities Program. Then guests were ushered to the chairs arranged in rows around the catwalk that jutted out from a curtained stage area.
A fucking fashion show.
Duncan now wished he could drink more. He slouched in his chair and sipped the martini.
Then the lights dimmed, the music changed to some synthpop music with a vibrant tempo, the volume starting low and gradually increasing until the first model appeared in the spotlight.
She strode down the catwalk in a sexy black dress with feathers around the neckline and four-inch heels, giving supermodel attitude in her stride, cocked hip, and the flirty looks she sent the audience. With long dark hair and dark eyes, she was sexy as fuck.
Duncan perked up a little. Okay, maybe fashion shows weren’t so bad. But he was just looking. No more high-maintenance models for him.
The first model turned at the end of the catwalk and strode back toward the stage, passing another model on the way. This one was a blonde, her long wavy hair flowing down her back. She wore a white dress that had Duncan sitting upright. Holy fuck. The top was silvery lace that covered her in strategic places and left others bare, the white skirt of the dress hugging her body, a high slit revealing amazing legs.
She wore a lot of makeup, which didn’t usually appeal to him. Her eyes were deeply shadowed, her lips shiny, and her arms and legs gleamed with a sexy golden luster. She was way too high maintenance for him, but there was no denying that she too was fucking gorgeous.
She had the same strut and hip sway as the first model, obviously something they were taught. Though he’d briefly dated a couple of models, he’d never seen them on the runway.
The blonde did her pivot and hip thrust, beamed a smile at the audience, then swayed back up the runway to disappear into the white curtains. Duncan’s attention moved to the next model, wearing a red one-shouldered dress with a billowy skirt that nonetheless had a high slit, revealing more long legs.
Even if he wasn’t into the clothes, he could definitely get into ogling models. He’d never date one again, but there was no harm in looking. He enjoyed beautiful females, even ones who were way out of his league.
He heard Lovey and Clementine murmuring about the pretty clothes. More models walked the runway, the theme switching from stunning solid color dresses to pretty floral ones, and then some male models strutted out in suits. Duncan’s interest diminished. He had to wear a suit to the arena every game night, so he owned a lot of them, but he wasn’t a fashion dude like, say, Jared, who could’ve been up there modeling. Jared was always wearing expensive designer clothes, even when it was jeans and a T-shirt.
As if Duncan had predicted it, the models switched to casual clothes like cool shirts and jeans—no doubt pricey designer jeans. He recognized some of the female models he’d seen earlier in sexy dresses now wearing snug low-rise jeans, heels, and pretty tops. The music changed to more funky tunes and the models’ moves became almost dancelike as they modeled the clothing.
The finale of the show involved all the models out dancing, wearing black and white outfits, some dresses, some pants and shirts, guys in a suit or black jeans and white shirts. It was pretty cool. His gaze was drawn back to the blond model he’d noticed earlier, and he watched the way she danced, smiling and tossing her hair. Wow.