Filthy Beautiful: A Players Rockstar Romance (Players #2)

by Diamond, Jaine

  I could do that. Maybe I’d skip the flexing part and just play it cool, though. No point embarrassing myself any more than I needed to out there.

  This is for sick kids.

  I’d just have to hope I pulled in more than five bucks for this cause and didn’t humiliate Jo and Trey. Then I could go unwind over a few drinks with my band.

  And figure out what the fuck to do about Courteney.

  Maybe I’d even break down later, like the pussy I’d apparently become, and endure Trey laughing at me so I could ask his advice.

  The beat boy didn’t get a hundred grand. He got eighty-five.

  Jesus Christ.

  It was kinda hot backstage and I was starting to sweat. Did rich women find sweat stains sexy?

  Shit, Jordan was gonna kick my ass.

  I was way more nervous about this thing than I thought I’d be.

  Coop went for sixty-five grand, Noah went for one-ten, and Trey pulled in a whopping hundred-and-twenty-five. I almost felt bad for Coop, but sixty-five large wasn’t too shabby when all he had to do was have a dinner date with some rich MILF. I got a glimpse of her when they brought her onstage to meet him and pose for photos, and she wasn’t exactly rough on the eyes.

  Trey’s winning bidder wasn’t anything to write home about, looks wise, but Trey posed with her for the obligatory photos, like the gentleman he was—with a dimpled smile, making it clear that her money was well spent. He’d give her a dinner date she’d never forget.

  I was last up, and by then, I was kinda regretting having to follow Trey Jones out there. But he was the one who’d planned this thing and as far as I knew, he’d decided what order we did this in.

  “Our next bad boy up for bid is Xander Rush,” I heard the MC say, from somewhere on the other side of the curtain. It was a male voice, but I’d been informed by Jordan, during the litany of instructions, that the MC/auctioneer was a drag queen that I was to address as female—she’d only mentioned it like a dozen times; she really wanted to make sure I didn’t fuck this up. “He’s a rock ’n’ roll drummer who’ll put the beat in your heart.”

  Oh, Christ.

  Whoops and applause as the crowd welcomed me to the stage.

  “Come on out here, Xander, baby. Don’t be shy…”

  One of the volunteers pulled the curtain open for me and I sauntered through, as casually as I could. I wasn’t gonna strut around like a peacock and I was no model. I just walked out into the center of the stage and stuck my hands in the pockets of my stupidly expensive new dress pants, because I wasn’t sure what else to do with them.

  The lights stung my eyes for a moment, but I heard the crowd’s reaction. Whistles. Screams. Catcalls—from both women and men.

  I chuckled a little, nervously. I’d been onstage a million times. But never like this.

  I was pretty sure I blushed for the first time in my adult life.

  “And there he is.” The MC sucked back a noisy breath and blew it out again into the mic. I glanced over and saw a curvy dude in a hot-pink sequined dress and big black wig. “Oh, my. Will you just take a look at that for a minute. Mm-mm-mmmmmm. Doesn’t he look pretty in pink.”

  Laughter. Applause. More whistles.

  Yup. This was embarrassing.

  I’d worn a pink button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and I was pretty sure the whole room could see my nipples poking through it. I’d always looked weirdly good in pink, and it was tight. Jo picked it out, and she told me to leave it unbuttoned low and roll up the sleeves so the rich ladies could see my tattoos.

  Now I felt weirdly like a whore show dog.

  On the dance floor in front of the stage, the guests who’d purchased tables were all clapping and smiling at me. There was Trey, sitting at one of them. I didn’t recognize most of the people in front, but I did recognize a lot of faces farther back.

  And at a table tucked off to the right side, second row, I could see Brody and his wife, Jessa. I looked around their table; they were sitting with Ashley and Danica, Elle, Summer… and right next to Summer, there was fucking Courteney.

  The smile fell off my face.

  She was wearing that damn white dress she wore the night I took her virginity. With way too much cleavage.

  “Sweetie? Xander, hon.” The MC’s voice jolted me back. He—she was talking and I didn’t hear what she’d said. “Can you just do a little spin for us? Turn around, baby.”

  I tried to squeeze out a smile, and turned in a slow circle as the crowd whistled and applauded.

  What the fuck was she doing here?

  I’d put money on Summer inviting her—or her reaching out to Summer and wrangling herself an invite?

  Did no one realize or care that the girl was underage and not supposed to be here?

  Apparently not.

  As I finished my three-sixty, I tried to keep smiling. I also tried to make eye contact with Trey and somehow tell him telepathically that his little sister’s underage friend was here—and that he needed to kick her ass out. Larissa was sitting with him at his table in front, and when I glared at her, she just smiled at me.

  Trey didn’t seem to get the message. He caught my eye but just sat there, grinning up at me as the MC worked the crowd. Shit. Had someone bid on me already?

  I should really be paying attention to this.

  “… for a rocking night out on the town with this man, you won’t regret a single penny,” the MC was saying, and every word dripped with innuendo. She circled around me with her wireless mic in hand, checking me out. “Can I see ten—Ah. A generous starting bid from the delectable diva at table seven, for ten-thousand dollars.”

  I looked around at the table numbers, which were on big cards in the centers of the tables—and found Jessa holding up her paddle at table seven. My manager’s wife had gotten the bidding started with a pity bid.

  So at least if no one else bid on me, I had that.

  I nodded my thanks at her and Brody grinned at me. I was pretty fucking sure if his wife won me tonight, he was coming with us on that dinner date.

  “Can I get fifteen—Oh! A bid from the lovely lady in the red dress at table three.”

  A middle-aged blonde woman in the front row of tables, one of the serious VIP tables, had her paddle up. I smiled at her politely, and she grinned at me. The well-dressed ladies at her table, who were probably all closer to my mom’s age than mine, were all smiling.

  “But let’s not stop there,” the MC said. “How about twenty-thousand—Yes! A bid from the fine-ass gentleman at table twelve.”

  Whatnow?

  My gaze snapped in that direction, and sure enough, some dude had his paddle in the air.

  Huh. Gay dude?

  Or maybe a fan? Someone in the music industry? A friend of Trey’s looking to drive up the bid, for the kids…?

  I didn’t recognize him. He had on an expensive suit and that dignified, I’m filthy fucking rich air about him. He smirked at me, and his entirely male table applauded.

  “Twenty-five!” called out a woman in front. One of the ladies at table three. The blonde in the red dress was holding up her paddle again.

  “Fab-u-lous! We have a bid of twenty-five-thousand dollars from the lady in red. Do I see thirty-thousand out there anywhere? Ah, thirty-thousand dollars from the adorable sweetheart in the white dress, at table seven.”

  Shit. Jessa wasn’t wearing a white dress.

  My gaze snapped back that way.

  Courteney was holding a paddle in the air. She was staring at me, but she wasn’t smiling.

  Thirty-thousand dollars?

  No way did Courteney Clarke have thirty-thousand dollars kicking around. Unless she planned to hock her kidneys on the internet before the end of the night or something.

  “Do I see thirty-five…?”

  “Forty!” shouted the woman in front, on behalf of her friend in the red dress. The whole table of women was twittering and ogling me. The lady in red just smiled and sipped her champagne, paddle
in the air.

  Okay. So maybe I’d have to play this up?

  No way could I let Courteney win this thing. She didn’t have the money for it, and even if she did, I wasn’t letting her throw it away. Sure, it was for charity, but let the rich people donate to the charity.

  She could have a dinner date with me for free.

  I smiled at the woman in the red dress. Then I winked at her—and her friends clapped in pleasure. She was laser-locked on me with a determined, though possibly drunk smile on her face, and she was all iced to hell in diamond jewelry.

  Yeah. She was winning this thing.

  Had to.

  “Forty-five,” a female voice called out, somewhere to my left. I squinted into the lights at the far end of the stage. At a table tucked off to the side, a woman in a silver dress was holding up a paddle.

  “Forty-five,” the MC purred. “We have a bid of forty-five-thousand dollars from the smoking silver fox at table sixteen—”

  “Fifty-thousand,” boomed a voice farther back, and heads turned. The dude at table twelve was bidding on me again.

  Damn. So he was seriously in this thing.

  Were men even allowed to bid…?

  Apparently. A dude in a pink dress was standing next to me, so I supposed anything was possible at this event.

  “Oh! We have a fight on our hands!” She sauntered over to the edge of the stage, stood right over table three and asked the woman in the red dress, “Do I see fifty-five, or—”

  “Fifty-five!”

  Jesus, Courteney. What the fuck was she doing?

  She sat there with her paddle thrust in the air and her eyes blazing fire at me.

  But shit. I could not let her win this thing.

  What was she trying to prove here?

  Put your fucking paddle down, I tried to tell her with my eyes. In my pocket, I turned on my phone.

  “Seventy!” a woman at table three called out.

  “Seventy-five,” the woman in silver said.

  And right there, I saw Courteney’s fire die.

  Whatever crazy-ass budget she’d given herself, that was over it.

  But I needed to make sure.

  I pulled out my phone and typed her a text while one of the ladies at table three called out another bid for the woman in red.

  Me: Stop bidding on me. I’m going home with you tonight.

  “A-mayyy-zing! We have a bid of eighty-five-thousand—Wait. Now wait a minute here.” The MC pointed at me. “What is he doing on his phone in the middle of this crucial moment?”

  The crowd laughed.

  “I’m making dinner reservations,” I said casually, sending the text to Courteney without even looking up. “For me and the blonde.”

  The MC, who thought I was talking about the lady in red at table three, whooped with delight, and the whole room, who obviously thought the same thing, laughed and applauded.

  I tucked my phone away deliberately, but when I looked over, Courteney hadn’t taken the hint. She wasn’t checking her phone.

  “Well, well,” the MC purred. “We may have a winner here. Unless I see ninety out there—Yes! Ninety-thousand dollars, from the gentleman at table twelve.”

  I looked over there, and he was grinning at me again. So were his friends.

  Looked like he really wanted this date.

  “Ninety-five,” said the woman in silver. I glanced over at her. She was sipping a martini, and winked at me.

  Then I looked over at Courteney.

  “One-hundred-thousand!” yelled one of the ladies at table three.

  The MC couldn’t even keep up with the bids. They were tossing them out faster than he could ask for them.

  “One-hundred-and-five.”

  “One-hundred-and-ten!”

  Courteney laid her paddle down on her table, got up, and walked away. I watched her make her way toward the back of the club and disappear in the crowd.

  Fucking shit.

  “Isn’t this fun?” said the MC. “Do I see one-fifteen? Must I remind you to take another look at those muscles…?”

  The lady in red was already thrusting her paddle into the air.

  “One-hundred-and-fifteen thousand dollars,” the MC drawled, goading the other bidders. “You’ll need to unclench those purse strings, honeys, if you want to win this date.”

  “One-hundred-and-twenty.”

  Everyone turned to look over at the woman in silver.

  Christ. It was like a goddamn ping-pong match.

  I hopped down from the stage—to a gasp of delight from the MC. The ladies at table three all dropped their jaws on the table.

  The crowd craned to watch me make my way between the tables—over to the guy at table twelve. I grabbed an empty chair from a nearby table along the way, dragging it with me, and sat down right next to him.

  He smirked at me and looked me over. When his eyes met mine again, I asked him, “You gonna let them win?”

  I wasn’t exactly accustomed to flirting with dudes, but I was fucking motivated.

  That look on Courteney’s face as she got up and walked out? It was burned uncomfortably into my brain.

  “We’ve got a generous bid of one-hundred-and-twenty-thousand dollars from the lady in red, for a date with Xander—”

  The guy next to me raised his paddle. “Two-hundred-thousand.”

  Jesus.

  His eyes crinkled at the corners, and he sipped his wine. That look said, This is amusing. And I’ve got every penny it takes.

  “Ohhh!” The MC practically came in his dress. “Now that’s a bid. Do I see two-hundred-and-five? No? Lady in red? Silver fox?”

  The lady in red was shaking her head. She smiled at me and shrugged.

  The lady in silver sat back and gave a little head shake.

  “The lady in red has laid down her paddle,” the MC said dramatically, “and it appears the silver fox has retired for the night.” The crowd played right into it. Awww. “But! We’ve got an incredibly generous bid of two-hundred-thousand dollars from the gentleman at table twelve. Going once, going twice… and the date has been sealed.”

  There was a little drum roll and cymbal crash sound effect, in place of an auctioneer’s gavel, and just like that, the auction was over. Nice touch, and that was probably Trey’s doing. I glanced over at him as I stood up and the crowd applauded.

  He grinned at me like, Loving the fucking hell out of this, brother.

  How come no dudes bid on him?

  I mean, maybe they did and I just didn’t know.

  I shook the winning bidder’s hand and the event volunteers corraled us up to the stage, where we smiled and posed for the obligatory photos. Then I looked at the wealthy, likely gay dude I was having a dinner date with in the near future.

  He winked at me and then was ushered offstage, while I was escorted backstage.

  Jesus Christ, the shit I did for Courteney Clarke.

  “Do I seriously have to go on a dinner date with this guy?” I asked Jordan when I met her and Lucas backstage, fearing the answer.

  Lucas chuckled.

  “Yes, you do,” Jordan said. “He just spent two-hundred grand on it. Just think of it as a dinner with someone who’s interested in the music industry.”

  “Oh, he’s interested,” Lucas said.

  “Quit being helpful,” I muttered, then went into the dressing room to change. These stupid dress pants Jo made me wear were chafing my inner thighs. I put on some loose jeans and a sleeveless shirt, my usual attire, and went back out into the club with Lucas.

  When I got out to table seven, I said my hellos. I sat down next to Ash, who was bisexual, as far as I knew. I’d never actually asked him, but people talked.

  Plus, I’d once seen him sucking face with a dude at a party, years ago, so there was that.

  “What do I do on a date with a dude?” I asked him.

  He grinned at me. I was really fucking glad I could provide so much amusement for my friends tonight. “Same thing you do o
n a date with a chick?”

  I glowered at him.

  “Or not,” he said, chuckling at my expense.

  “You enjoy the food and drink,” his girlfriend, Danica, offered, “and make him feel like he didn’t totally waste his money.”

  “And how do I do that?”

  “You look him in the eye,” Summer said. “You listen when he speaks, and laugh at his jokes. And at the end of it, you thank him for a nice time.”

  “Right. I’ll try that.” I threw back a shot. There were several of them on the table, and everyone had a drink on the go in front of them.

  Danica shrugged. “Women have been doing it for centuries.”

  Ash grinned at me and my obvious discomfort. Jessa smiled at me across the table.

  Brody chuckled.

  “Just smoke a joint first and chill out,” Summer said. “It’s not a big deal. You’ll do fine.”

  “Or have a drink,” Ash suggested, and sipped his beer.

  “Or a few,” Brody said.

  “Like what’s your drink of choice when you want to relax?” Danica asked, sympathetically. “I like Strongbow.”

  “Gin,” Ash said, venturing a guess, maybe.

  “Gin and juice,” Summer said, raising an eyebrow at me. How she knew my favorite drink, I had no idea. Though she was the party queen; kinda in her job description to know such things. “How about one right now?” she offered. “You look like you could use one. I’ll find the waitress.”

  She started looking around, but I just shook my head. “Not in the mood.”

  “Gin and juice?” Danica giggled. “Like the Snoop Dogg song? On your playlist,” she said, nudging Ash.

  “What playlist?” I said, watching them. She wasn’t in his lap, but pretty damn close. The two of them were always up in each others’ grill, deep in the can’t-keep-our-hands-off-each-other phase.

  I wondered if that would last.

  “My vortex playlist.” He shrugged. “It’s this thing Summer made up.”

  I glanced at Summer, but she was talking to some woman at the next table.

  “It’s like a deathbed playlist,” Danica said.

  “Huh?”

  “You choose twenty songs,” Ash explained. “Kind of your musical blood, guts and soul. Summer made us make them.”