The mafia bitch decided to document this disaster in Polaroid. The same mafia bitch saved those pictures on her phone and routinely likes to taunt me with them. Whenever she wants me to do something I get a text saying, remember this? with an attachment. Needless to say, I am currently on my way to the draft party.
In the periphery of my vision I can see Ethan’s eyes shift back and forth from the road to me.
“Amber?”
My name in that deep voice, that voice that feels like velvet with a touch of rough around the edge, is my kryptonite. But I can’t give in, for a multitude of reasons. I won’t allow my feelings to dictate how I do business anymore. For the first time I stick to my plan and quiet the distant voice in the back of my mind that’s telling me to give in and fall.
Being a grown up sucks.
“First rule of fight club. You do not talk about fight club,” I say, quoting one of my all-time favorite movies.
The silence prods me to steal a glance. His face is tight…he’s upset.
“I disagree. We can’t hide this from our friends. They’ll figure it out anyway. Might as well tell them we’re––”
“Benefriends,” I say, cutting him off. “If you say fuck buddies, I will hurt you.”
“Benefriends?” He can’t decide whether to be angry or amused.
“Friends with benefits.”
Angry it is. His sexy lips press together, irritation etched around his eyes, the quiver of his jaw. I can see the wheels turning, strategizing. He’s formulating a plan of attack.
“Remember that little detail about you getting disbarred if you get caught playing naked Twister with the prisoner? We need to keep this under wraps.”
He blows out an exasperated breath and runs his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, I know we have to keep it quiet until your case is closed but––”
“Ethan––I’m leaving as soon as the case is closed. I went to see Marty today. I’m missing out on a really good part, a great part, because I can’t travel out of the area. These opportunities don’t come around often. It broke my heart to say no.”
“You turned it down?”
“I had to. And let’s not forget I may have to go to jail.”
“You’re not going to jail,” he says, speaking over me.
“And if not, I’m moving to L.A. Telling anyone only complicates the matter.”
After that, a black cloud descends in the back of the town car and lasts until we reach Chelsea.
Inside, the loft type venue is packed. Most of the players and their families are in attendance, the room decorated in team colors.
A very large redhead makes his way to us. And when I say large I mean the man is the size of a baby grand piano. Red is wearing a tartan bowtie that looks sharp on him. He reaches us, slaps Ethan on the back, and shakes his hand. “‘Sup, boss.” He rubs his full red beard and gives me a dimpled smile that makes him look like a little boy up to no good.
“Amber, this is James Popovitch. Pop, Amber.”
“Hello there Amber,” he singsongs, which makes me chuckle. His attention returns to Ethan. “Fuckers drafted a nose tackle,” he mutters conspiratorially.
Ethan shakes his head. “Kid’s green. Really green. His footwork needs a lot of work. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
I spot Justin across the room. I wave and he blows me a kiss. What a goofball.
“If you say so,” Pop says in a low voice.
“I do.”
“Excuse me, gentleman. I have a friend to see.”
Ethan frowns. Before he can make a move I sense his intention to reach for me, to make some gesture that would imply intimacy, and before he does I check him with a wide-eyed glare.
“I’ll see you in bit,” I warn. After which I smile at Popovitch and go in search of Justin.
On my way to Justin, I run into Calvin coming from the buffet table. In one hand is a dish filled with food, in his other a chicken skewer. He takes a big bite.
“Hey.”
His mouth full, he nods his greeting.
“Where’s the woman who blackmailed me into coming to this thing?” Before Calvin can answer Ethan walks up, standing much too close to me. Cal continues to chew on the chicken skewer while his shrewd gray eyes bounce from me to Ethan and back again.
No sweat. I am a stone cold killer, a vault, Fort Knox as a matter of fact. I got this thing on lockdown.
“You two are sleeping together.”
Mmmkay, maybe not entirely on lockdown. It’s not even a question. Regardless, I’m prepared to deny, deny, deny.
“First rule of fight club. You do not talk about fight club,” says the man that gave me more orgasms in one night than is healthy. It obviously damages gray matter otherwise the same man wouldn’t have such a hard time following one simple fucking rule. My eyes roll so hard I can see the back of my skull.