The Player's Club: Scott

by Cathy Yardley

  Anger quickly replaced any nerves he might’ve had. “Amand…”

  Suddenly, a rocket exploded and people started yelling. “Corre! CORRE!”

  Scott didn’t even need the translation. The crowd started moving, white-clad sprinters headed down the uneven streets as the crowd cheered. They’d let out the damned bull.

  He started running, jostled by the crowd as they lurched as one headlong down the hill on the uneven street. He wondered if this was what lemmings felt like, just before they found out there was a cliff ahead. He saw Amanda, moving like a gazelle. He felt better being able to see her, and made sure he was close behind. The pace picked up, people yelling. Somebody tripped, almost dragging Amanda with him. Scott caught her and they both jumped over the guy’s body, just before he crawled out of the way.

  “Oh, my God!” Amanda shouted breathlessly. The crowd was thinning.

  “Bull’s comin’!” a deep Texas drawl bellowed out, and people pushed to the sides. Scott jumped into one of those little alcoves, grabbing Amanda and pulling her flush against him…just before the biggest frickin’ bull he’d ever seen in his life rushed past, like a lumbering freight train that snorted.

  “Holy crap!”

  Amanda looked at him, fear and exhilaration bright in her eyes. “Oh, my God,” she repeated.

  “Run!” He nudged her, and they started sprinting down the street, amidst the crowd.

  The rest of the run was a blur. The ground was uneven and rocky under his feet—it was a miracle he didn’t twist an ankle. Thankfully, he’d done some internet research beforehand, had memorized where the turns were. He herded Amanda on the right path. She was graceful, and damned fast.

  The bull run was mercifully short, and he saw the end at the Plaza del Toros, a stadium where the bulls would be fighting later that evening. Scott felt a burst of relief when the stadium was in sight. Pouring on one last desperate push of speed, they went through the darkened tunnel and broke out into light.

  Scott was in the middle of the stadium, right in the heart of the bullfighting arena. The stands, he noticed, were fully crowded, everyone cheering like mad. He slowed down, walking around the dirt-packed floor of the stadium, stunned by the surreal feeling. This must be what it felt like to go into the World Series, he thought inanely.

  “I can’t believe that!” Amanda said, as more and more bodies milled around inside the arena floor. It was like a big party—and the spectators were cheering them on like returning, victorious heroes.

  He kissed Amanda, holding her against him. “That…was…incredible.”

  She smiled, holding him fiercely. “Thank you,” she breathed. “Thank you for sharing this with me.”

  He smiled back. “I am going to make love to you all night. And most of tomorrow.”

  “And then we’re…”

  “Move it, man!” Finn said as he bolted past them. Then he skidded to a stop. “Who’s this?”

  “This is Amanda,” Scott said, then remembered she was not supposed to know about them, and they probably shouldn’t know about her. “She’s—”

  “Over the wall, Amanda!” Finn said, tugging her arm.

  “What?” she asked blankly.

  “They’re letting ’em in! Move it!”

  “Letting who in?” Scott asked, feeling dumb. Then he glanced back at the tunnel.

  The bulls. They were letting the bulls in with them!

  He didn’t know where the energy came from, but suddenly, Scott was chasing Amanda and Finn toward the nearest stadium wall. “What the hell?” he shouted, just before boosting Amanda up over the wall. A bull was heading right toward them. Finn skinned up the side of the wall like a squirrel. Scott couldn’t get a good hold, and wound up running a little. The bull was distracted for a quick moment.

  Move it! Scott took a running leap at the wall, felt his fingers connect and clasp around the top. By sheer willpower, he hauled himself up and over, practically feeling the beast’s breath against his butt as he did so.

  The gathering crowd helped him up, and Amanda was at his side in seconds. Her eyes were wide as dinner plates.

  “Congrats!” Finn called, crowing like Peter Pan. “You’re in, baby! You’re in!”

  “I’m in,” he chanted, then looked at Amanda. She was thrilled—it shone on her face. Her confidence and belief in him, her admiration, lit her up like a beacon.

  He had everything he wanted. And he was suddenly incredibly glad that she was the one sharing it with him.

  “What are you going to do now?” Finn asked, punching him on the shoulder. “We have to celebrate….”

  Scott wrapped an arm around Amanda.

  “Back to the hotel,” he said.

  Screw it. He wanted to be a Player—but right now, he wanted Amanda more.

  12

  AMANDA HEARD THE KNOCK on the door first. She rolled over lazily, nudging Scott’s nude body. “Room service,” she prompted.

  He groaned, putting his head in the pillow. “I don’t think I can move,” his muffled voice replied.

  She laughed. “Well, I’m not moving,” she answered, yawning and stretching, feeling delicious aches in her well-used muscles. “And I’m hungry.”

  He turned back to see her, then leaned over, nibbling at her rib cage. “I can take care of that.”

  “For food,” she said, laughing, and nudged him a little harder…although, God help her, her body perked up at the low-lidded look of desire in his eyes. “If we keep feeding the other hunger, I’m not going to be able to walk onto the plane to go to Paris.”

  “So we’ll stay here for a few more days.” He dipped his head down, pressing a kiss on the top of her breast, then looked up at her like a begging puppy. “I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

  She was tempted. Tempted to actually pass up a trip to Paris. I must be in love. “Food,” she finally forced herself to say, although her voice was breathless.

  He smiled at her, shrugging. “Fine. You need to keep your strength up, anyway,” he warned, hopping out of bed. “We’ve still got hours yet before we go to the airport.”

  She felt like crowing. She was happy. Totally, crazily, unbelievably happy.

  He slipped into one of the terry robes, and she tucked herself under the blanket, hoping he got rid of the waiter in a hurry. He opened the door.

  “Finn? Lincoln?” Scott said, his tone startled. Then, with an angry undertone, he added, “And George? What the hell is this?”

  She froze.

  “We need to talk to you,” George blustered, pushing his way into the room. He caught sight of Amanda, and leered.

  “About what?” Scott said, stepping between George and the bed.

  “About her.”

  Lincoln sighed, rubbing his face. “This is stupid, George.”

  “Yeah, George,” Finn said sharply. “It’s obvious you’ve got an ax to grind with him, but this is low, even for you.”

  “What do you mean, ‘even for me’? What’s that supposed to mean?” George blustered.

  “What are you doing here?” Scott repeated, his voice firm enough to stop the bickering.

  George crossed his arms. “We’ve got rules,” he said, with a slight mocking emphasis. “And the first one is you don’t tell. Anybody.”

  He gestured to Amanda, and she tightened her grip on the blanket, keeping it clutched over her body.

  “And you told her.”

  Amanda blanched. Scott’s gaze met hers. Then she stared at George, and at the other men—the one called Lincoln, and the guy she’d met on the run with the bulls, Finn.

  “These guys?” she said quietly. “These are your friends?”

  “Oh, come off it,” George snapped. “You know exactly who the hell we are. You know he’s been in The Player’s Club.”

  Her eyes popped wide-open. Please, please let me be convincing.

  “You’re in The Player’s Club?” she said, and sat up…letting the blanket dip a little before catching it.
r />   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 socia
l 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.”