The Player's Club: Scott

by Cathy Yardley

  “I can’t tell you the guy’s name. It would be totally unethical.”

  “At least describe him to me,” she wheedled.

  Rick sighed. “Like I said, he looked rich, dressed well.”

  “Had glasses?” Amanda asked.

  Rick smirked. “No. At least, not that I saw. That would’ve really fit the stereotype, huh?”

  “Anything else you can tell me?”

  “Well,” Rick hesitated, “he did have the reddest hair I’d seen in a while. Now, can we continue with our date? I think your food’s getting cold…”

  Red hair. Suddenly, Amanda remembered George—his smirking, arrogant, repugnant expression as he’d cornered them on the plane, then when he’d tried to intimidate Scott in the hotel room.

  Just as Scott suspected: George had set him up. Only now, she had proof.

  She pushed her plate aside. She’d lost her appetite. It was Scott’s stupid fault they’d broken up, a part of her reasoned. She didn’t owe him anything. If he hadn’t… If he’d only…

  This still isn’t fair. This isn’t right.

  She gritted her teeth. “Do you want to go to a Player’s Club meeting? For real?”

  He blinked at her, and surprised them both when he dropped his fork with a clatter onto his plate. “Seriously?” He was practically out of his seat. “You know them? You know how to reach them?”

  “I’ve got some ideas,” she said. “But first, there’s a guy we need to talk to. Then, we’ll head out.”

  Rick motioned to a waiter, paying in a rush, then all but tugged her out of the restaurant. “What guy are we talking to?”

  “An idiot,” she replied. “But I love him anyway.”

  SCOTT SAT IN HIS APARTMENT, drinking a beer and holding the ice bag against his face.

  He considered getting even with George. He knew without a doubt that George was the one who had screwed him, and part of him wanted nothing more than revenge. But right now, all he could think about was Amanda. Amanda, the woman he loved.

  Who was currently on a date.

  He’d been so worried about not being a “nice guy”—so intent on being the badass he thought Amanda wanted—that he’d become the opposite. Selfish, insensitive. Cruel.

  No matter what his reasoning, he’d actually treated Amanda poorly. She was right: he’d tried to have his cake and eat it, too. Have The Player’s Club, while she waited for him, sharing the adventures he chose to tell her about. Helping him. Being there for him. Hell, tonight, he’d felt crushed, and he’d gone to her to feel better.

  He hadn’t even bothered to ask her how she was doing.

  He was surprised when there was a knock at the door. Cautiously, he glanced around. He figured Lincoln wouldn’t put a hit out on him—but there was something really shady about the guy, even if he was really cool.

  It was a strange guy. And he recognized Amanda in the fish-eye lens.

  He opened the door. “Amanda, I—”

  “Scott, meet Rick, my date.”

  He blinked. Now who was being cruel? “Uh, hi?”

  “Great to meet you,” the guy said with what appeared to be genuine enthusiasm. He held out his hand. “So, you’re in The Player’s Club, too?”

  “I was,” Scott said, shaking hands with the guy. He glared at Amanda. “What’s this all about?”

  “Didn’t I tell you?” Amanda’s tone was tart. “Jackie set us up. Rick works with Jackie.” She paused a beat. “At the newspaper.”

  Another journalist, Scott thought, remembering Kayla’s date, Matt. Hadn’t newspapers gotten him in enough trouble?

  “I wrote the article about The Player’s Club,” Rick supplied helpfully.

  “Oh.” Then the wheels clicked. “Oh. You!”

  “Yeah. It was a great article,” Rick said modestly. “But more than that…I’ve been interested in the Club since I first heard about it. That’s why I went after the story so hard. I’d give my left nut to join.”

  “Vivid,” Amanda said, wrinkling her nose.

  “Very,” Scott agreed. “Amanda, can I talk to you alone for a second?”

  “All right.” She followed him into the kitchen, leaving Rick in the living room. “Scott, he can prove that you weren’t the source. What’s the problem?”

  “You’re dating him.” Scott gritted his teeth. “I know we’re not together, whatever. But…why would I help the guy who’s dating…”

  The woman I love.

  “You?” he finished.

  She rolled her eyes. “This isn’t about helping him, idiot. This is about helping you.”

  For the first time that night, he smiled. “Why are you helping me?”

  “Because I’m an idiot, too,” she said, huffing impatiently. Then she crossed her arms. “I still care about you. You did so much to get into this club. I mean, I just helped, and I couldn’t believe what we wound up doing. What we were able to do. Before this, I just worked all the time. I was the dependable one, the boring one. Then I met you, and I heard about the Club, and…and I turned into an exciting burlesque dancer who camps out in the Mojave and runs with the bulls.”

  For a second, she smiled, too, and it lit her face.

  “I like who I am, when I’m with you,” she breathed. “More than that, I like knowing I can be myself when I’m with you, whether it’s running with the bulls, or just hanging out and watching Twilight Zone reruns.”

  He smiled, reaching for her. “Amanda.”

  She took a step back. “It’s not fair,” she said. “You shouldn’t have gotten kicked out, and George shouldn’t get away with it. I think we should do something about it.”

  He took her hand. “Thank you.”

  She gave his fingers a quick squeeze. “It doesn’t mean we’re…”

  “I know,” he said softly. “But…if this guy tries to touch you, you realize I’m probably going to kick his ass.”

  She grinned. “Oh, don’t worry. He doesn’t have a chance, and even if he did, he’d much rather join the Club than be with me.” She paused, laughing humorlessly. “Lotta that going around, actually.”

  He swallowed hard. “Amanda…”

  “Okay, that was way more self-pitying than I meant for it to be,” she said, scolding herself. She led him back to the living room, where Rick sat up straighter, looking eager. “Come on. Let’s go find this club, and let them know what’s really going on.”

  “I don’t know how, though,” Scott said. “The passwords have all changed. They’re not going to answer my calls. How are we going to find them?”

  Rick grinned. “Thanks to George, being used has its advantages. I know just how we can find out.”

  16

  THE NEXT NIGHT, the three of them were in Rick’s black Audi. Scott and Amanda crouched in the back, while Rick read a paper in the driver’s seat.

  “This is George’s house?” Amanda was shocked. “It looks like a mansion.”

  “It is,” Rick replied in a low voice. “He’s one of the Macalisters. That’s big money.”

  “Do you think you can follow him without him noticing?” Amanda asked.

  Rick shot an irritated look back at her. “I’m a reporter. Of course I can.”

  “George is arrogant,” Scott interjected. “I don’t think it’ll even occur to him to try hiding the fact that he’s going to a Player’s Club meeting. The guy has stupid business cards showing he’s a member, for Pete’s sake. He’s proud of it.”

  Sure enough, George came barreling out of his driveway, driving a black Maserati. “That’s him.”

  “Follow that car,” Amanda ordered, then giggled. “I’ve always wanted to say that.”

  Rick followed. “This guy drives like a maniac,” he groused. “With a lead foot. Keeping up with him might be harder than I thought.” He hit the accelerator. Suddenly, they were thrown against the side of the car, Amanda piling onto Scott. She let out a surprised squeal.

  “Car chase,” Scott said, feeling some laughter bubble up
in his chest. This was so crazy.

  “Oh, no, you bastard. You’re not getting away from me,” Rick muttered, and abruptly curved the other way.

  “The key is for him not to know we’re back here, remember?” Amanda yelped.

  “Don’t worry! I got him!”

  After some more twists and turns, they finally made it to a closed office building. “This?” Rick asked, pulling into the parking garage. “Would the Club meet here?”

  “That’s his Maserati, right?”

  They saw George going up to an elevator, and hid. They followed.

  “Elevator’s stopping at the fifteenth floor,” Scott said, then turned to Amanda and Rick. “You ready for this?”

  “She’s coming, too?” Rick said, surprised.

  “Yes,” Amanda said sharply, “she is.”

  “Absolutely,” Scott agreed, his heart pounding with every step he took.

  AMANDA WAS ANXIOUS, her mind racing as they stepped off the elevators. She could hear voices, male voices, arguing something and see light flooding out of a set of open conference-room doors. Their echoing footsteps weren’t heard over the din of the debate.

  “I’m telling you, The Player’s Club is sick of your rules!” a snide voice shouted. “All in favor of making me leader of The Player’s Club, say ‘hell, yeah!’”

  “That’s it,” another male voice said, cutting through the shouting like a scalpel. “George, I’ve put up with you because Finn is my best friend, and you’re his cousin. But you’ve crossed the line. This isn’t a fraternity, and it’s not the fucking Moose Lodge. You don’t get to be homecoming king because you want to brag about your boozing, and all the women. And you don’t get to inflate your ego by hazing guys and then telling them they don’t make the cut!”

  Amanda stepped in behind Scott and Rick. There were men sitting around in knots, and the two main arguers, Lincoln and George, were standing in the middle, looking as though they were about to throw down and simply slug it out.

  She’d have put money on Lincoln. George was heavier, but the expression on Lincoln’s face was lethal.

  “Excuse me, gentlemen,” she said, quietly at first, then raising her voice. “Excuse me.”

  The room fell silent. Clearly stunned, they all stared at her. Amanda felt like shrinking. Instead, she put her chin up, and took a step forward. “I think there’s something you need to hear.”

  “How did you get here?” George said, then took in Scott. “Jesus, Ferrell. You’re back? Again? Just begging to get your ass kicked, huh?”

  “I’m here to set things straight,” Scott defended, refusing to rise to the bait. He wore a smug smile. “I’d also like to introduce someone. His name’s Rick, and he’s the reporter who wrote the article.”

  There was a rush of murmurs, and suddenly Lincoln’s lethal stare was off the charts. They advanced on Rick.

  Rick gulped noticeably, but to his credit, he stayed put. George also paled, she noticed, and she felt a gleeful, evil sense of triumph.

  “You want to tell them what you told me?”

  “Sure,” Rick said, his voice shaking slightly. Then he pointed at George. “He’s my source. I’ve never met Scott before tonight.”

  The murderous stares shifted to George, who held up his hands.

  “This is bullshit,” George said, but he stammered, and sweat beaded his forehead. “Scott’s got the balls to actually bring a reporter here. And you’re going to believe him?”

  “I didn’t have much choice,” Scott said. “After you set me up and cut me off. Besides, it wasn’t like it was that hard to find you.”

  “How did you find us?” Finn asked. She’d remembered Finn as a cheerful, vaguely flaky guy. Now, he was stone-cold serious.

  “I’m a reporter,” Rick said, shrugging, and Amanda groaned softly at the man’s arrogance.

  “We followed George,” Scott added.

  Lincoln growled. “Damn it, George…”

  “It’s him! Why the hell are you mad at me?”

  Amanda stepped up. “No, it’s you. You did it, and now you’ve been caught. So why don’t you stop the crap, and man up already?”

  The crowd stared at her. She would’ve stared at herself if it were possible.

  “I like her,” Finn said, to no one in particular.

  “Me, too,” Scott chimed in, grinning.

  George seethed. “You can’t prove anything.”

  “You said you want the Club to go in a new direction. Fine. You go in a new direction, and take whoever you want with you,” Lincoln announced. “We’re through.”

  “Fine. You guys are a bunch of pussies, anyway,” George spat out. “I should’ve started The Player’s Club! Come on, guys. Let’s go and really show them what being a Player is.”

  He headed for the door.

  No one followed him.

  “Ted? Bulldog?” George said, gesturing for a few guys to leave with him. “What is wrong with you guys?”

  “That wasn’t cool,” a huge muscular guy with no neck said. He was wearing a wife-beater shirt, and his bare arms rippled as he bunched his hands into fists. “I hit Scott for something you did. That was a dick move, George.”

  George took one look at the intent in the guy’s eyes…and he ran from the room.

  Finn shook his head. “That,” he said, “was pathetic.”

  “Depressing,” Lincoln agreed. “Scott, I guess we owe you an apology. But the fact is, you brought a reporter here. And I know you don’t know why, but I can’t have that. We,” he corrected, “can’t have that.”

  Rick stepped forward. “I won’t write another article,” he said, like a kid begging to stay up. “I just want to be a Player. I’ll even tell you if anybody else is writing anything, or hears anything. I can be helpful. Just… I want to join.”

  Lincoln looked at Finn, who grinned. Then Lincoln grinned, too.

  “Okay, Scott,” Lincoln drawled. “If everyone else votes on it, I guess you can be reinstated. All in favor?”

  There was a chorus of “ayes.” Amanda felt her chest tighten. She was happy for him. Sad for herself, a little, but happy for him.

  “Thanks, guys,” Scott said, when the cheers quieted. Then, to her shock, he walked over and stood next to her, taking her hand. “But I’m afraid I’ll have to say…no.”

  17

  SCOTT WAS WATCHING her face when he turned down the Club. The stunned expression was worth it.

  “You don’t want to be a Player?” asked Lincoln.

  “Oh, I do,” Scott said, still not looking away. Amanda’s gray eyes were misty and dreamy, staring at him with confusion. “But not without her. She’s been amazingly important to me. She’s more important than the Club. I finally figured that out.”

  She smiled, a wobbly, hopeful smile.

  “So unless she can join, I’m not in.” He tugged her close.

  “I might vomit,” some guy said, and the bull-necked guy who’d punched Scott glared.

  “She’s small, but she’s tough,” the bull-necked guy said. “Why not?”

  “I like her,” Finn repeated. “I vote yes.”

  “Me, too,” Lincoln said. “All in favor?”

  There was another chorus of “ayes.” Amanda looked overwhelmed.

  “What do you say, Amanda?” Scott asked gently. “Do you want to join the Club?”

  She smiled, then nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Absolutely yes.”

  And she squeezed him, hard.

  He felt like his chest was going to explode. He looked at Lincoln, who was grinning. “Can we discuss her challenges later?”

  “Just don’t warn her,” Lincoln said.

  “I won’t.” Scott smiled. “We’ll see you at the next meeting.”

  He left Rick talking animatedly to the crew, and hustled her out the door. They caught a cab, and he held her tight the whole way back to the apartment building. They went to her place. He was kissing her before she’d even unlocked the door.

  “I
missed you,” he said. “I screwed up, I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.”

  “I love you,” she said.

  He stopped abruptly, nudging her back. “What was that?”

  She looked surprised, like she’d been goosed. “I want to make love to you,” she said, shutting the door and reaching for his shirt.

  “No,” he corrected. “That wasn’t it.”

  She swallowed. “I love you,” she repeated softly, but her chin went up, just like it had when she stood up to George.

  She was the bravest woman he’d ever met.

  He kissed her. “I love you, too,” he said, and tasted a salty tear. She laughed against his lips, then held him tight.

  “Stay with me,” she said.

  “Always.”

  HOURS LATER, THEY WERE on a camping chair on her fire escape at three in the morning—the place where it all started, he joked. She was wrapped in his arms.

  “It’s getting cool,” she murmured, turning on his lap. “We should probably go back inside.”

  “Not so fast,” he said. “We’re not finished here.”

  She chuckled. “What is it with you and the great outdoors?” she teased, although she was already going wet with anticipation.

  His phone rang. He fished it from the pocket of his jeans, looking at the face of it. “It’s Finn,” Scott said. “Should I answer it? Or let it go to voice mail? Your call.”

  She shrugged. “Why not?”

  “It’ll just take a second,” he promised, then opened his cell phone with a click. “Hello?”

  She smirked…then reached down, popping open his fly and reaching into his pants.

  His eyes bulged, and she laughed softly as she stroked his cock, freeing it from the denim. He frowned at her playfully. “What’s up, Finn?”

  “I know what’s up,” Amanda purred as his erection stuck up like a steeple. He bit his lip, his hips arching up toward her. She moved to straddle his thighs, teasing and torturing him.

  “Uh…um…yeah. Okay,” Scott said, his eyes starting to cross as she leaned down and gave him a quick, careful lick across the tip. She tasted wetness, and went in for a longer suck. “Tomorrow? Right…right… What? Two o’clock? All right.” Scott covered the phone with his hand, moaning softly.