The crowd applauds and Kalin’s expression turns more somber. “You helped bring me through some very dark days in my life. Not just this latest situation, but earlier difficulties as well. Sometimes when we’re asking for direction, the answer comes in the people right in front of us. For me, that is all of you.” Smiling at the crowd, his eyes land on Madison, and then on me. I blink and glance at Madison who is smiling at me. “So thank you for all you’ve done. For sticking with me during the good times and the bad, and helping me to laugh and love during those dark hours. You’ve all been my bright light. Now let’s all enjoy each other’s company and this evening.” The group roars with applause, and Kalin moves into the crowd.
Kalin is already back to his old self as he mingles around the room, greeting and laughing with his many friends and employees. All of the employees who baked and cooked for him are receiving big hugs from Kalin. He recalls exactly what each employee had made for him, and hugs each one of them and lets them know how much he appreciated it.
I briefly scan the room. Madison waves at me from across the room, and slips toward me through the crowd with a bright smile.
“Did you plan all this?” I ask with my hand to my chest.
“We had it all set up. We knew he was getting out today.”
“You kept this from me?” I ask with a trace of shock.
“Yeah, you were way too close to Kalin. And you had enough to deal with.” She nudges me on the arm.
“You guys are impossible.” I hug her, a little more convinced Madison was in no way a part of this plan. I glance around the room to see security in various areas, but no sign of the ‘frack boys.’
Kalin has made his rounds to a few buddies, some Northwestern alumni, and to the managers. I mentally note that there are two glaring omissions from the crowd: Jeff Corman and Brian McMillan. I narrow my eyes at the thought. I’m feeling overprotective for Kalin’s safety, while at the same time feeling upset at him for never telling me about his relationship with Madison. I feel a weight of nerves flutter from my chest to my stomach. Is there anything else he isn’t telling me?
Kalin is still making his rounds, greeting and embracing everyone, and the admiration for him in the room is palpable. A few employees want the inside scoop. “All will be revealed in due time,” he says with a playful gesture of his finger.
A flock of twenty-something girls approach him like groupies cornering a rock star. They want to see his scar. Lifting his shirt, he reveals the curves of his abs, and the girls’ eyes grow wide. “I don’t see it,” one of the girls pouts.
Kalin touches the scar under his arm. “It’s too high.”
“So take your shirt off.” One of the girls giggles and they all surround him to convince him to take his shirt off. Kalin shakes his head no, smiling and laughing at their persistence. “We won’t say anything. We’ll be the curtain for you.” Some in the crowd join in, mostly female, calling for Kalin to take his shirt off.
“Okay, listen up everyone. You baked me goodies and went out of your way for me. Many of you have asked to see my scar. Sometimes thank you just isn’t enough, apparently.” Laughter spreads over the room. “You helped me heal, so who am I to say no. I warn you it’s fresh and it’s ugly. Viewer discretion is advised.”
“Take it off!”
The room erupts in laughter, and Kalin puts his hands up in surrender. “Remember, you asked for this.”
Kalin stands on the coffee table. He unbuttons his shirt and tugs it off the round, smooth muscles of his shoulders and over his chest. Adoring girls hoot, holler, and whistle from across the room. His pectorals flex briefly as he tugs the other sleeve further off his left shoulder. The shirt hangs from his glorious, muscled body as he turns toward the group and lifts his left arm. The smooth scar runs from under his arm to his sternum under his nipple. Most of the girls are staring at his chest and abs, and the imperfection of the scar only heightens the beauty of his muscular physique, like a powerful warrior with a lone battle scar. “There you have it,” he rumbles.
The girls ooh and aah as Kalin rolls the shirt back over his shoulders. Pulling his shirt over the smooth, hard mounds of his chest, one by one he buttons his shirt from the top down. Each delicious ripple of his stomach disappears with each push of the button through the buttonhole, finally covering his lower stomach and then his belt. Kalin glances up to find a group of wide-eyed girls staring at him with unconcealed desire. His eyes find me in the crowd, and I fold my arms and roll my eyes. He jumps off the coffee table and stalks toward me.