As a child, Daniel and his friends used to camp out in this room, and he had fond memories of making popcorn, sharing a stolen beer and watching movies. These days it looked different. Several years ago, his parents installed a whole-wall entertainment system with a superlarge TV, surround sound and two rows of home-theater recliners. Off to one side was a tiny galley kitchen, where his mother bustled about, making sure everyone had enough food. As though anyone would starve in this house.
Now the group sat in the leather recliners watching as the Rose Parade wound its way down Colorado Boulevard. The watching of the Rose Parade had been a Torres tradition ever since his parents had sponsored a float years ago.
Logan nudged Daniel’s elbow. “What are we competing on this year?”
Daniel wasn’t quite certain how they’d gotten into this yearly competition, but somehow it had grown into the loser donating $100,000 to the winner’s favorite charity. “No more jumping frogs, rolling cheese wheels or fighting thumbs.”
“You want something serious this time?” Logan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
Daniel thought about that for a moment. “Not serious, but not weird.” Logan excelled in weird. That was part of the former pro football player’s nightly newscast, along with sports. Daniel had his own show—a morning edition that was more entertainment than news.
“What do you consider not serious, but not weird?” Logan took a long drink of his morning coffee. He was a night owl, while Daniel was usually up by four in the morning and at the station by four thirty to get ready for his show.
“A football game is serious. Anything that involves Spam is weird.” The first float appeared on the screen with a banner underneath it claiming it was the winner of the Sweepstakes Trophy. “I’ve got an idea. Let’s sponsor a float for the Rose Parade.”
Daniel looked at his friend, once again struck by their different appearances. Logan looked like the typical California surfer with his sun-bleached blond hair, deep-set blue eyes and muscular body. Daniel was the product of his black Brazilian father whose own father emigrated from Bermuda and a mother whose ancestry was unknown. His eyes were a deep amber, his skin the color of his favorite mocha Frappuccino, and he was more lean and slender than muscular.
Logan pointed at the screen. “You mean a fancy float like that? With flowers?”
“Why not?”
“What would be the stakes?”
“The usual—your charity or mine.”
Daniel had sponsored the Wounded Warrior Project for several years. Logan supported the American Red Cross. “We have to win a trophy.”
“There are like twenty trophies,” Logan said.
“The Sweepstakes is the most prestigious,” Nicholas, Daniel’s fraternal twin brother, put in.
“I think you should try for the Princesses’ Trophy. It’s for the most beautiful float,” Sebastian, another brother, threw out.
“Remember that dog pool a couple of years ago? That float had everything.” Nicholas’s eyes glazed over with the memory. He loved animals and would adopt every stray he found if he didn’t have such a demanding job as a choreographer for Broadway musicals. He’d recently been asked to bring his talents back to Los Angeles for a Dancing with the Stars clone.
“I think you should try for the Bob Hope Humor Trophy. That’s my favorite,” Matteus said. He was the only Torres who had chosen to move away from the family’s heritage and into a profession outside the entertainment industry. He was a cop in West Hollywood.
Everyone started to weigh in on their preferences. Sebastian, the eldest Torres brother, supported the Governor’s Trophy. Even as he watched TV, his flexible magician’s fingers shuffled a deck of cards. He never went anywhere without them, it seemed to Daniel, who was used to Sebastian’s constant card tricks.
“I was joking about the float,” Daniel said when the arguments wound down.
“But I like it,” Logan said. “It’s different. It’s splashy. We could have a ton of fun with this.”
Daniel watched the TV for a few moments, admiring the different floats. His thoughts churned and his imagination went into overdrive. He could really promote this, getting a lot of mileage for their charities. His station would probably contribute something, and, because their respective audiences seemed to enjoy their lighthearted competition, they could set up an independent account for private donations, as well.
“Okay,” Daniel finally said. “We can do this.”
Logan punched his arm. “Sure we can.”
Daniel got up to fix himself another cup of coffee and snagged a cookie off the plate his mother had just refilled. Ideas spun in his head. While he was great with promotion ideas, he didn’t know anything about floats.
“Is that a glint of panic in your eyes?” Manny Torres, Daniel’s father, said with a smile.
“What do I know about floats?” Daniel asked as he poured cream into his coffee.
“Not a thing.”
“How am I going to pull this off? Three years in a row, I’ve lost this competition with Logan. Look at him. He’s gloating. In his head, I’ve already written a check to his charity.”
Manny put a hand on Daniel’s arm. “Son, there are times in a man’s life, no matter how grown he is, when he needs to listen to his papa.”
Daniel studied his father’s face. “You have a guy?”
“Yes.” Manny’s smile grew. “Consider it done.”
“What about Logan?”
Manny glanced at Logan, fondness in his eyes. “I love Logan as though he was my own, but you come first.”
Logan’s head was bent over his iPhone, his fingers flying over the touch screen. He looked up and glanced back at Daniel. “Did you know there are a number of companies who do nothing but build floats for the Rose Parade?”
Daniel shook his head. “I had no idea.”
Logan waved his phone. “May the best man win.” He put his phone to his ear and got up, walking away to a quieter corner. “I know it’s New Year’s Day, but I need you to get me an appointment on the fourth with Steinmen and Sons.” He paused, listening, no doubt, to his assistant, who seemed to be on call 24/7. “They build floats.”
Manny nudged Daniel and gave him a thumbs-up sign. “Don’t worry, son. Tomorrow, all will be done.”
Daniel hadn’t known what he was getting himself into when he suggested he and Logan sponsor floats in the Rose Parade. He’d thought it would be a simple procedure and the magic would happen on its own. But it was one decision after another. How long did he want the float to be? How high? What colors? Which theme? Who, what, where, when, why and how had turned into dozens of meetings despite hiring a company that specialized in float design. Most of his on-air life was taken care of for him. But the decision to sponsor a float had absorbed his off-screen life.
And now, ten months later, the final product was on the verge of emerging.
He sat on a chair in the interview area of the set, about to unveil the design to his viewing audience. The last six weeks had been the most intense, and now Courtland Float Designs had sent a representative to his show who would be giving weekly updates leading up to the parade.
“My special guest today,” Daniel said, “is Miss Greer Courtland.” He’d met her father for their initial meetings, but he hadn’t met the woman who’d actually designed the float. He stood and clapped his hands.
The pretty woman