The Charger stopped at the base of wide stone steps leading to massive double doors. Jude sat motionless, football on his lap, taking in the reality of Arthur Fitzgerald's life.
"Need help with your bags?" TJ asked.
Jude shook his head, reaching for his wallet. "How much do I tip on a hundred and forty-two dollar ride?"
TJ waved him off. "App handles it. You good, man?"
"Yeah. Thanks for the ride."
"Good luck, Fresh Prince. Hope it works out."
Jude climbed out, retrieving his bags from the trunk. The Charger backed down the driveway, leaving him alone before the mansion.
The steps seemed to multiply as he climbed them. His two duffel bags felt heavier with each step, the football tucked awkwardly under his arm. At the top, the double doors loomed—dark wood with iron fixtures, a doorbell panel mounted in the wall beside them.
Jude stood there, suddenly aware of how he looked. Wrinkled clothes from the plane. Sneakers scuffed from Philly streets. The cross his mother gave him, silver against his skin. Two bags containing everything he owned.
He pressed the doorbell.
Chimes sounded deep within the house. Footsteps approached from inside.
The right door swung open, and Jude found himself looking at Evelyn Fitzgerald for the first time.
"Oh! You must be Judah." Her voice was warm, melodic, a slight Midwestern lilt hiding underneath California polish.
Jude had seen photos online. They hadn't done her justice.
Honey-blonde hair fell past her shoulders in soft waves, a few strands of silver catching the afternoon light. Her face combined high cheekbones with a gentle jaw, fine lines at the corners of eyes that couldn't decide between blue and green. Those eyes widened slightly as they took him in, recognizing something—his father, maybe, or his mother—in his features.
She wore a cream-colored sundress that hugged curves Hollywood actresses paid surgeons to create. The fabric draped over full breasts, cinched at a waist that hinted at a disciplined diet, and flared over hips that moved hypnotically as she stepped back to welcome him.
"Please, come in. We've been expecting you." She smiled—a genuine smile that reached her eyes, creating tiny crinkles at the corners.
Jude stepped across the threshold into a foyer bigger than his mother's entire apartment. Marble floors gleamed beneath his feet. A chandelier hung from a cathedral ceiling. To the right, a staircase curved upward. Ahead, the house opened into spaces he couldn't fully see from the entry.
"I'm Evelyn," she said, closing the door behind him. "I'd offer to take your bags, but..." She glanced at his duffels and laughed softly. "Maybe I'll just show you to your room instead. You must be exhausted from your flight."
Her perfume registered—something floral with vanilla underneath, subtle but present. When she moved past him toward the stairs, her arm brushed his, a whisper of contact that seemed both accidental and deliberate.
"Arthur mentioned you'd be arriving today," she continued, leading the way up the staircase. Her hips swayed with each step, the sundress moving against her body in ways that made Jude focus intently on the steps. "He's in Tokyo until Thursday, unfortunately. Business trip that couldn't be rescheduled."
Of course Arthur wasn't here. Jude wasn't surprised.
"The girls are out right now. Solange and Noel are shopping, and Chloe is hanging out with her friends." Evelyn glanced over her shoulder, catching Jude watching her. Her smile shifted slightly, something unreadable flashing in her eyes. "So it's just us for the moment. I hope that's alright."
They reached the top of the stairs, turning down a hallway that led to another staircase. "The children's wing is separate from the main house," she explained. "Second and third floors. The girls have the second floor, and you'll be on the third. Complete privacy."
The second staircase led to a corridor with only two doors facing each other.
"This is the third floor," Evelyn said. "Your room is on the right. Noel's is across from yours." She opened his door, stepping aside to let him enter first.
The room was bigger than any bedroom Jude had ever seen. A king-sized bed dominated one wall. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over hills stretching to the horizon. There was a desk, a sitting area with a couch, and two doors that presumably led to closets or a bathroom.
"I hope it's comfortable," Evelyn said, watching his reaction. "If you need anything changed or added, just let me know."
Jude set his bags down, placed the football carefully on the desk. "It's fine. Thank you."
Evelyn lingered in the doorway, one hand on the frame. Her wedding ring caught the light—platinum and diamonds, substantial without being flashy. "I'll let you get settled. Dinner's at seven, but there's food in the kitchen if you're hungry before then." She hesitated. "And Judah? I'm truly sorry about your mother. Arthur told me what happened."
Something in her voice—sincerity, maybe, or genuine compassion—made Jude look up sharply. Their eyes met, held for three seconds, four.
"Thank you," he said finally.
She nodded, stepping back. "I'll be downstairs if you need anything."
The door closed softly behind her. Jude listened to her footsteps fade down the hallway, down the stairs, away.
He looked around the room—his room now, apparently. More space than he knew what to do with. Views worth millions. A bed that could fit three people comfortably.
Jude sat on the edge of the bed, sinking into a mattress softer than anything he'd ever slept on.
"What the fuck am I doing here?"
===
A/N:
Welcome to the end of the chapter.
You want to watch Jude take the quarterback position. You want to see him conquer the Fitzgerald women.
Feed the algorithm to unlock the next play.
Add this book to your library today to secure your spot on the active roster. Drop those Power Stones to keep the chapters arriving.
Every comment tells me to turn up the heat.
Do not stay on the sidelines. Tell me you are ready to play.