Clearly, Mahomes wasn't familiar with or used to this kind of lifestyle.
Lance understood instantly. He knew Mahomes and Brittany had a rock-solid relationship. "You don't want to go in? If you don't, I'll tell David and we can leave right now."
Mahomes hesitated slightly.
Lance caught the fleeting struggle in his expression. "If you do want to go in, I won't say anything, you won't say anything, and Travis definitely won't either. Just like David said—what happens in the Garden, stays in the Garden."
Mahomes blinked and took a deep breath, like he was making a life-altering decision. He glanced back, then ahead, and finally looked at Kelce's back. "Let's go."
Now it was Lance's turn to ask, "You sure?"
Mahomes nodded. "I've always wanted to see. You guys just never let me in."
Lance's lips curled into a faint smile. "Sherlock, we respect your loyalty. It's a rare and admirable trait, especially on a football team."
Mahomes paused, swallowed hard. "Maybe I'm ready now."
Lance didn't say anything more. He patted Mahomes on the back, and the two of them followed.
They pushed open the door—and were met with swimsuits.
All kinds, all styles. Some were only tops, some only bottoms. Colors, patterns, fabrics—a kaleidoscope of distractions. Laughter echoed in the air.
Packed.
No less lively than Minneapolis. Just stepping in, one could feel the heat radiating from the atmosphere, a frenzy that swallowed guests whole like Las Vegas at its wildest.
When Beckham brought the three Chiefs players in, a cheer erupted.
"Super Bowl! Super Bowl! Super Bowl!"
The crowd chanted and roared, the whole party immediately diving into celebration mode.
"As your host, let me give you the grand tour," Beckham said, clapping a hand on Kelce's shoulder.
"This here's the game room..."
A pool table stood in the center, with a long bar on the right and a line of classic arcade machines—Street Fighter, Final Fight, Alien vs. Predator—all the vintage hits.
Lance's eyes lit up immediately.
Beckham noticed. "Childhood memories, right? Want to play a few rounds later?"
Lance replied with surprise, "I thought your childhood was all football."
Beckham chuckled. "Hey, don't we all have a few 'sneak-out-and-be-naughty' memories?"
The group burst out laughing.
They exited the game room through a side door and were greeted by a glowing mint-blue pool—like something from the world of Avatar. It was stunning.
Kelce knelt down and tested the water. "Oh—it's heated."
Beckham said, "This is the River of Love."
Lance: "River of Love?"
Beckham shrugged. "Probably thousands of people have fallen in love here."
One second... two...
Then all three of them reacted. Mahomes and Lance both took steps back.
Kelce recoiled. "Ugh. Ugh. Help!"
He sprang up, frantically flinging his hands to shake off the "love river" water. Drops sprayed everywhere. Beckham dodged, Lance and Mahomes scrambled away, and a group of bikini-clad women joined in by splashing water—chaos erupted.
Click.
A light turned on.
"This is the 'Weird Room,'" Beckham announced.
Despite the name, it wasn't scary at all. In fact, the lighting gave it a surreal beauty.
Red velvet and black leather filled the spacious room. In the center, a circular bed—probably a waterbed.
Beckham pressed a switch, and the bed began to slowly rotate.
No further explanation needed.
Lance raised his chin slightly. "Therapeutic for back pain, right?"
Beckham nodded. "Exactly."
Next came the disco room—not your average dance floor. It generated foam. Bubbles floated everywhere, whimsical and dreamlike.
Then there was a "secret room." Just a glimpse sent Mahomes fleeing, blushing furiously. Beckham and the others laughed so hard they nearly cried.
And finally, the movie room—small but fully equipped like a theater, with a wall-to-wall screen. Playing now: Titanic.
Pfft.
Lance couldn't help laughing.
Beckham frowned. "What? Bad taste in movies?"
Lance grinned. "No, no, it's perfect. I just didn't know you were such a film buff."
Though rumors had long swirled that Beckham wanted to break into Hollywood post-retirement, he'd never made a move.
Beckham gave a sly grin. "Didn't expect to fool you, huh? This theater's a little different."
He pressed a hidden button beneath the coffee table. With a soft mechanical hum, compartments slid open.
Cigars. "Herbs." And more.
An impressive stash.
Turns out the movie was just a distraction.
Lance was amazed. Of all the wild rooms in the house, the most outrageous stash was hidden in the most ordinary one.
Beckham picked up a pre-rolled "cigarette" and offered it to Lance. "Want one?"
Kelce hesitated—but when he looked to his right, he found both Lance and Mahomes had taken a full step back, leaving him alone up front.
Beckham offered the smoke to Kelce. "The offseason's started."
Kelce sighed. "I know." But after glancing between the smoke and the two guys pretending to smile politely, he waved it off. "But there's still the 24-hour window."
Technically, the season was over. But for the next 24 hours, the league could still conduct random drug tests.
Cigarettes? Fine.
But the other items? Not so much.
So even though tempted, Kelce held off.
Then—eight women walked by, laughing and winking. One of them even reached out and… patted Mahomes on the chest.
Or rather, felt his chest.
Mahomes, utterly unprepared, blushed and hiccupped.
Lance and Kelce laughed. It was clear: he was still the sweet, innocent kid.
As Kelce and Beckham moved on, Lance pulled Mahomes aside.
"Sherlock," he said, "I think it's time we left."
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Powerstones?
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