The Player's Club: Scott (13 page)

“You have to be a full Player,” Tucker said. “Which means you’ve got to complete your challenges.”

“Right,” Scott said. “So…you can hook me up with the QR code? With a fake invitation?”

“I can get you past security,” Tucker said.

“Too late for that,” Finn said, jogging up to them. “George figured that we’d try to help that way. So he’s making sure all the bouncers have your picture.”

“Damn it,” Lincoln growled.

“He’s just trying to keep it an honest challenge.” But even Finn didn’t sound as if he believed it.

“He’s trying to keep it an exclusive boys’ club that he gets to parade around as vice president of,” Lincoln shot back. “When we started this, we were in it to live, remember? Face down things we were too cowardly to do before…”

He paused, glancing at Scott.

“Well, before the Club,” he finished, causing Scott to wonder what
before
really meant. What had happened to prompt them to start the Club?

“If someone else helps with the challenges, that’s fine,” Lincoln continued. “This isn’t about proving you’ve got balls. It’s about admitting whether or not you really want to change your life!”

“I
know
that,” Finn said, surprisingly serious. “You think I don’t?”

The group dissolved into discussion, and Scott tuned out as reality set in.

He now had to crash some stupid, ten-grand-a-ticket party.

And he had absolutely no idea how he was going to do it.

7

SCOTT CLIMBED UP the fire escape to Amanda’s window. Sure, he could go through the door now—they knew each other, they were dating, stuff like that—but it was two in the morning. Besides, there was a certain sexy danger to it. He was pretty sure she liked the idea of him sneaking in like a burglar, sliding into bed with her.

She gets turned on because she thinks I’m some dangerous bad boy.

He gritted his teeth. He liked that, ordinarily. But tonight, he was tired, frustrated. Pissed. And he was fairly certain he was going to get booted from the Club.

How long is Amanda going to like you then?

He put it from his mind as he headed for Amanda’s bedroom.

She had her light on, a pair of glasses perched on her perky nose, her body swamped in a gray T-shirt that read Alcatraz Triathalon: Dig, Dive, Swim on it. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was frowning, turning a page.

She looked like a very sexy librarian. He felt his tired body wake up, and he grinned.

“God, you look hot.”

She startled, dropping her book. “Oh! What time is it?” She glanced over at her alarm clock, then quickly took off her glasses. “Crap. I was… I mean…”

“I think I’m seeing a whole new side of you, Amanda,” he said, taking off his clothes and climbing next to her as she quickly released her hair from its band and pulled off her T-shirt.

“I meant to be more, you know,
ready
for you,” she said, huffy.

“What are you reading?” He picked it up, glanced at the cover. “The new
Dresden Files,
” he said appreciatively.

“Just killing time.” She quickly turned off the light, but not before he noticed a blush on her cheeks.

He kissed her shoulder, then kissed her neck. “You know, you’re sexier in a T-shirt and glasses than most women are in lingerie.”

She chuckled softly, then hugged him, hard. Suddenly, he felt twenty feet tall. She curled against him, kissing him, gently at first, then a bit more intently.

He sighed, holding her to him.

“You seem different tonight,” she said. “Something wrong?”

He grimaced. He should’ve hid that better. “Just a little speed bump.”

“The Club?” She leaned up. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” he said, trying to caress her back to her nestled place in his arm. “Just some challenge issues, that’s all.”

“The party?”

He shouldn’t have told her, he realized. The woman was like a terrier. “Yeah.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Do we really need to talk about it now?” he answered, trying to sound persuasive—but, to his own ears, sounding a little grumpy.

Smooth, real smooth.

She turned the light back on, then spun on him. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Do the ‘don’t worry, sunshine, let Sugar Daddy take care of business’ thing,” she shot back, crossing her arms. “It drives me absolutely
nuts.
My ex-husband used to do that all the time.”

She had an ex-husband? “Which would explain why he’s an ex, I guess,” he quipped, trying to roll with it.

“One thing of many, and let’s not change the subject.” She looked more sympathetic, and leaned her face on one hand, listening intently. “What’s going on?”

He sighed. Then he leaned back.

“They picked this party for me. Specifically, this jerk named George picked the party for me,” Scott explained. “I need to get into this huge, epic, ten-thousand-dollar-a-ticket party.”

She let out a low whistle. “Yikes.”

“Tell me about it.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms.

“Any ideas?”

She sounded so confident. As if she had no doubt whatsoever that he’d pull it off.
That makes one of us.

“I’m still kicking things around,” he said. “I figure I could try to be a busboy, or something. I don’t know, maybe blend in with catering. I’m pretty sure I won’t pass as a bouncer. And I really,
really
don’t want to get arrested for breaking and entering to something like this.”

“Wow,” she said, and rested her head against his chest. Her hair felt like cool silk on his skin, and she smelled like jasmine and vanilla. The smell calmed him. “And if that doesn’t work?”

“Then I guess I’m not going to get in the Club.” The sentence caused him a pang.

“Well, that’s crap,” she said, and he grimaced at her, annoyed. “You’re not going to just give up, are you? You’re not that kind of man.”

He thought about it.

I’ve been living in the shadows of these big-ego, big adventure jerk-offs for all my life. I’m tired of being the nice guy that people tell their cool stories to. I want to be the guy that has the stories to tell.

“I don’t want to give up,” he said. “I’m not going to give up.”

Her expression was filled with approval—and admiration.

That was what he wanted. He wanted to be the guy that put that look on her face.

“What’s the party, anyway?”

“Some damned thing…what was it?” He closed his eyes. “Oh, right. The Debauchanalia.”

“The Debauch…” She said, then started laughing. “Small world.”

“You know it?”

“Strangely enough, yes. And I think I know a way to get you in.”

He sat up abruptly, and she squealed in protest as he almost knocked her off the bed. “Seriously?”

“Yes.” Her eyes twinkled. “Although, I have to warn you—you might not like how.”

“Whatever, I’ll take it,” he said, excited.

“Perfect.” She kissed him, slowly, and moved over him, covering his body with hers.

As he started the delicious slide toward oblivion, he heard her ask the question, “How are you at dancing?”

AMANDA WAS STILL GRINNING as they headed to the party.

“I’m not comfortable with this,” Scott muttered.

“Do you know of another way to get into this party?” Amanda replied, trying hard not to laugh. “Listen, this is perfect.”

“Yeah, but what if I have to…you know,” he said. Then he shook his hips spastically.

She giggled. “What? Have a seizure?”

“Now I
know
I’m not comfortable with this,” he said, turning and starting to walk away. She grabbed his arm.

“Sorry, sorry. But don’t worry. This is just to get you in,” she reassured him.

“Because I can’t…no. I
don’t
dance.”

She could see that, obviously. But he went with her to the side door anyway.

A bruising bouncer that looked like an ex-marine was working, earpiece in, sunglasses on despite the fact that it was nine o’clock. “Who are you?” he snarled.

Amanda felt her heart beating double-time, and wished once again that she were better at lying. “We’re dancers,” she said. “We’re with the Bettie Pages.”

The bouncer glared at Scott. Or at least, he seemed to glare. It was hard to tell with the sunglasses. “He don’t look like a dancer.”

“We have an act together,” Amanda said, trying to bat her eyes without being too ridiculous. She was wearing a tank top and sweats, so it’d be easier to change into her costume. She shot him her most innocent-looking smile.

The bouncer still scowled at them. “I have to call it in.”

She felt her palms sweat, and leaned back against Scott. The guy was listening intently to his earpiece.

Suddenly, Tina ran out to the door. “Amanda! Thank God. If you hadn’t shown up, I wasn’t going to get paid. Where’s your friend?”

“He’s right here.” Amanda gestured to Scott.

Tina was clearly surprised, but she shrugged. “Right now, I’d take you if you were a trained chimp. No offense,” she said quickly. She seemed to be running on adrenaline and nerves. “Rinaldo, they’re with me, and they’re late. I need them in costume and on stage in like ten.”

“Right, Tina,” the bouncer said with something like an adoring smile. Apparently, the bouncer had a crush on Miss Tina.

“I can’t believe that worked,” Scott whispered in her ear.

Tina turned to them. “All right. Amanda, you know about the wigs and outfits…but I really wasn’t expecting a guy. What does he do?”

What does he do? Amanda blanked…and suddenly felt badly. After all, this was Tina’s livelihood. She couldn’t exactly leave her high and dry. “Um, are we in a cage, or on a stage?”

“Stage. Good thing, with this crew,” Tina said. “They are a hell of a lot more famous, and more rowdy, than the last guys you danced for. I’d be careful when you’re crossing the floor.”

“I’ll make sure nobody touches her.” Scott’s voice was rich with menace. Tina nodded with approval, even as Amanda shot him a look of surprise.

“Do we have a chair?” Amanda asked.

“I’m sure I can get one. Why?”

“That’s the act. I’m sort of doing a…er, lap dance. For him,” she improvised.

Tina’s eyebrows jumped up.

“Very tasteful, though,” Amanda quickly added.

Tina sighed. “I swear, from now on, no more big venues. I don’t care how much money they pay. They don’t know how to treat artists. I’ll go get that chair.”

“A lap dance?” Scott exclaimed, then goggled as she stripped down to her underwear in the room Tina had led them to.

“It was all I could think of. She’s being nice enough to let you in here. The least you can do is sit on a stage and get entertained,” Amanda explained, hastily sliding the hangers on the rod. “What do you think?” She held up a black bra-and-tap-pants number, and another in leopard print.

Amanda watched as Scott swallowed. “The, er, black one.”

“Got it.” She took off her bra, switching it for the black. “Take off your shirt.”

His smile was hungry. He took his shirt off, reaching for her.

“No, not yet,” she said with a laugh. “That’s going to be your costume.”