The Player's Club: Scott (22 page)

As she’d suspected, the George guy was temporarily derailed.

“Well, she knows about it
now,
” Scott said. “Which technically means that
you
told her. Does that mean we get to kick
your
dumb ass out?”

Lincoln started laughing, as did Finn. George flushed, scowling.

“So what, you just told her you were running with the bulls? And she believed you?”

“Dude, hundreds of people run with the bulls every year!” Scott yelled. Then he took a deep breath. “You’re ridiculous. I did what I needed to do. Now, I’ve still got a vacation to enjoy, with her.”

“No problem,” Finn said. “We’ll talk later. At the next meeting.”

“What about her?” George said. “She
knows!
”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” Lincoln snapped.

“Actually, that brings up a point,” Scott interrupted. “As long as I’m a full member, I can pledge someone. Right?”

The other men paused in their bickering, looking at him.

“Well, then,” Scott said. “I’d like to pledge her.”

All three shifted their gaze from Scott to her. Amanda waved weakly, then looked at Scott.

Maybe now, when I’m naked, isn’t the best time for this conversation,
she thought.

George shook his head. “No.”

“But she knows. Now, I mean,” Scott said, crossing his arms. “And yeah, I’m new, but I think—”

“This has nothing to do with how long you’ve been a member,” George said, laughing. “Do you remember when you showed up? Every meeting you’ve ever been to? How many
women
have you seen there?”

Scott looked puzzled. The other two guys, Finn and Lincoln, looked embarrassed.

“So what are you saying?” Scott pushed. “No girls allowed? What, are we five?”

“Honestly,” Lincoln said, “it’s never come up before.”

“Yeah, well, it’s coming up now,” Scott said.

She wanted to cheer. She smiled at him, touched.

“It’s not happening,” George repeated, sharply. “Finn, you know that you wouldn’t get a majority rule on this. No way in
hell.
And we’re not just changing the rules because your
boy
here feels like bringing Yoko Ono in.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, insulted. “I don’t even know that I want to join your boys’ club if this is the caliber of your membership!”

“Good, ’cause nobody’s
asking
you,” George said, and Scott shoved him back a step.

“You need to leave,” Scott said, murder in his voice.

“You need to
choose,”
George said. “Because I think if we point out that some guy wants to bring his girlfriend on board, how many do you think will go for it? A lot of them join to get
away
from their girlfriends and wives.”

Lincoln sighed. “It could cause a dynamics problem,” he admitted.

Finn just looked miserable.

“So, what do you say, Scott?” George challenged. “You still in? Or do you need to check with your
girlfriend?
”

She waited. It sucked, but this guy was obviously a moron if he was making demands like this. Well, she’d just try to make it up to Scott. They could have their own adventures.

“I’ll talk to you when I get back to the States,” Scott said, subdued.

She stared at him as he ushered them out and closed the door behind them.

“What just happened?” she asked, feeling stunned.

“I wasn’t expecting any of that,” he said, sitting on the bed. “George is a jerk. They’re working to get rid of him.”

“But…are you still going to join?”

He paused for a long minute. Every ticking second made her feel worse.

“I don’t see how it would affect what we have,” he said slowly, and her heart fell.

“So you’re going to go ahead and join even though they’ve pretty much said you need to leave me behind,” she spelled out.

“I know it meant a lot to you,” he countered, sounding defensive. “It means a lot to me, too. I was trying to join before I got together with you.”

Got together.
Just a half-step up from
hooked up
but not quite as classy as
started dating.

“So does that mean you’re dumping me?” he asked caustically.

She blinked. “What?”

“You got together with me so you could join the Club,” he said. “So now what? Are you going to stop sleeping with me because they won’t let you join?”

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she forced herself to hold them back, taking a deep breath. “Is that how you see me?”

“Isn’t that what you did?”

“I did blackmail you to get into the Club,” she admitted. “And I apologized, remember?”

“But you’ve always expected it. Everything you’ve done to help me has been with that in mind.”

She stood up, naked. “Well, Scott, I’m disappointed, but I’m more disappointed that you’re going to be okay with them excluding me, treating me like…like some
bimbo.
Do you really expect to have your man club
and
your hot little hookup!”

“You’re acting like a jealous, unreasonable
girlfriend,”
he said.

She bit her lip. Felt like an idiot. But at the same time, felt betrayed.

“I don’t think it’s fair,” she said. “That you get to go on all these adventures. And I get to help in the background—or
hear
about them.”

“You can find other adventures,” he said.

She took a deep breath. Then nodded. “You’re absolutely right. I
can
find my own adventures.”

“Great.” He sounded relieved. “So. Where were we?”

She saw him pat the bed, and blanched. “You. Cannot. Be serious.”

“So you
are
punishing me,” he accused.

“I’m upset. And you’re right about something else—I was acting like a girlfriend,” she said. “But I am
not
your girlfriend.”

“Do we have to go into that?” he asked. “Why can’t we just enjoy the moment?”

Because I thought I was falling in love with you.
Something about the arrangement stung.

She’d been friends with Ethan, she realized. She’d helped him through business school. She’d helped him when he wanted to start a business, working on CandyLove with him. She’d been excited…but she’d always been the support. Then he’d fallen in love, gone off, remarried.

She was tired of being the supporting player. And she was tired of being the one who had to “understand” while someone else pursued his dream.

“I’m leaving,” she said.

“We don’t need to be at the airport for hours.”

“No,” she said quietly. “I’m going back. To San Francisco. I’m not going to Paris.”

He took a deep breath. “Fine. If you really feel that way.”

She packed quickly, and got dressed. He watched her, silent, intense. When she got to the door, he put a hand on it, stopping her.

“I didn’t know how badly I wanted to be part of this club,” he said, his voice pleading for understanding. “I needed a change. Needed an adventure. I was tired of being boring. Damn it, I was tired of being a
nice guy.
”

She kissed his cheek. Then nudged his hand away, opening the door.

“I wouldn’t worry,” she said. “If it’s any comfort…I don’t think you’re a nice guy anymore.”

Then she walked out.

13

I DON’T THINK YOU’RE a nice guy anymore.

Scott rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms. Ever since Pamplona, and breaking up with Amanda, he’d felt empty and raw. He’d been to a few Player’s Club meetings, but even that had only made him feel worse. Now, he just felt tired, and angry.

“Hey, Ferrell,” one of the execs, Charlie, stuck his head into Scott’s office. “Some of the guys from Sales are going for drinks after work. Want to come?”

Scott shrugged. A couple of months ago, he would’ve felt a boost at being included, even though he would’ve turned it down. Now, he had more social life than he knew what to do with…but he found himself reluctant to drag himself back to his apartment building, knowing Amanda was just a floor away.

“Sure. Why the hell not,” Scott said, and Charlie grinned. “Where are we going?”

“We’re still figuring that out,” Charlie said, frowning. “The guys are saying they want martinis. Know any place?”

“Martuni’s,” Scott said, then winced, remembering George and their last conversation there. “Wait…there’s a club in the industrial district that I know. Small, private, pretty exclusive.”

“How the hell did you get so plugged in?” Charlie said, sounding envious. “You used to be like all the rest of the analysts—you know, quiet, kept your head down, lived and breathed spreadsheets and pie charts. But now there are all these rumors. What
is
going on with you, man?”

“Stereotype much?” Scott asked quietly.

“Huh?”

“Just because we’re analysts doesn’t mean we’re nerds with pocket protectors,” Scott said, more weary than bitter. “As far as rumors, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’m pretty sure it’s just crap.”

“They said you ran with the bulls in Pamplona,” Charlie blurted with a dubious laugh.

“All right. That one I did,” Scott confirmed. “But so what?”

Charlie’s eyes widened, and the laughter died off. “And…you skydived, or something.”

Scott shrugged. “Again. So what?”

“And that girl, the one who came by for lunch?” Charlie’s mouth dropped. “You
can’t
mean that rumor was true. Heard that you guys got busy right here in your office!”

Scott closed his eyes as the heat of that memory seared him right down to the bone. Then he looked right at him, keeping his face completely impassive.

“That’s wrong. She was stopping by for lunch. That’s it.”
Players don’t brag,
he reminded himself.

Real players didn’t have to.

“Okay,” Charlie said, but his tone was tinged with admiration. “Can you send out the directions for… What’s the name of this place, anyway?”

Scott wracked his brain. “Speakeasy, I think,” he said. “I’ll find out.”

Charlie left, and Scott focused on his work. Lately, he was either being a party animal or a workaholic, no middle ground. If he only stayed busy enough, maybe the Amanda-size ache in his chest would disappear.

About an hour later, Charlie was back with a few of the other guys from Sales. Scott tried not to look as disgruntled as he felt. “What? You guys missing a report or something?”

“Nah, this is about that club,” Charlie said, sounding excited.

“Oh, right.” Scott sighed. “I forgot to look up the address.”