Side Game (Men of Trance Book 2)

by Nicole Loufas

  The city is an entirely different place at night—no suits walking with purpose to their next appointment or tourists snapping pictures of sights we take for granted. In the early morning hours, when mist from the unrelenting fog settles over the streets, we reclaim the city. Darkness is our time. On this dark street in the middle of downtown, I slip a hand under my wall and pull Leeyan in. I feel her in every way someone can feel another human. Everything until now has been blurred—my feelings, her intentions. Holding Leeyan in my arms, I know one thing for sure—it’s going to hurt like hell when she leaves.

  Chapter Twelve

  I’ve spent the last week working as much as I can. I need to make up the funds I lost by missing shifts at Trance. Rico booked us in a fashion show in Los Angeles; the pay was shit, but I boosted a Gucci sports coat I can sell on Poshmark or eBay, and it’s already brought me good luck—the CEO I saw last night commented on the coat during my flight home. I gave her a card, and three days later she was on all fours in a suite at the Fairmont calling me daddy. Even though the woman was beautiful and sexy, and rich−the sex wasn’t pleasurable. My dick wouldn’t have worked if it wasn’t for Viagra. The money isn’t the only reason I’ve taken every job Rico has thrown at me. I’m avoiding Leeyan.

  I slip into the apartment at dawn. Leeyan is sleeping on the sofa, her bare leg visible from the doorway. I want to be the guy who doesn’t look, but I do—every chance I get. She stirs, and I jerk my eyes away.

  Leeyan has invaded every aspect of my life. I think about her when I’m with other women, wonder what she’s wearing, eating. This whirlwind friendship can only end in heartache. There’s a fifty-fifty chance it’s my heart that will break. Leeyan’s confession the other night spooked both of us. She’s been aloof, even more than me. We’ve dumbed down our interactions to basic roommate chit-chat.

  I walk past the kitchen counter and find a mess of another kind: a dirty plate, three containers from the Chinese restaurant on the corner, and an empty bag of Oreos. Leeyan isn’t even pretending to be a good houseguest anymore. The more I stay away, the messier she becomes, but if this kitchen is the only mess I have to deal with, so be it. It’s a miracle I’ve been able to keep this from Theo for as long as I have. Avoiding him at Trance isn’t easy, but he’s been distracted too. I hope he’s prepared for the bomb about to land on his doorstep.

  Fruit-scented shampoo bottles clutter the floor of my shower. They’re the kind you get on sale at Target, two for five dollars—cheap. I don’t like cheap. I don’t like pink razors on my sink or wet towels on my leather couch. My apartment is in disarray.

  Not much longer, I whisper to myself.

  Yesterday, I emailed Antonia to assure her I’m still on track. Brazil is my exit plan. When shit goes south with Theo after he finds out about Leeyan, I’m out of here.

  In the middle of my shower, Leeyan knocks on the door. “Yeah?"

  “Just wanted to make sure it was you and not some psychopath who likes to shower before raping and murdering.”

  “You were in the army—weren’t you trained in hand-to-hand combat?” My hand slips below my waist. Washing my dick while talking to Leeyan feels wrong, which is why it feels good. “I bet you’re pretty good with a gun.”

  “Guns were my least favorite thing about the army.”

  That makes no sense. “What did you dislike about them?” I want to keep her talking as I slather more body wash into my hand. “Cleaning them?”

  “Shooting them. Guns kill. I’m not a killer.”

  I stop washing. “I thought the army was your dream job. Being all you can be and all that.”

  “The army was an escape from my reality.”

  Honesty is a boner-killer.

  I rinse the soap off. “And now you’re back in reality.”

  “Sort of.” Her voice trails off.

  “Hey, let’s finish this conversation when I’m not naked.”

  “Good idea. I’ll make coffee.”

  I get out of the shower, dress, and meet her in the kitchen.

  My apartment is warm because my houseguest is always cold. I check the thermostat and adjust the temp to a less tropical climate. Leeyan is sitting on the counter next to the glass cooktop I haven’t used in two weeks.

  “There’s a gym on the second floor—go work out, generate some body heat, sweat.”

  “Gyms are for pussies. I like to run.” She scoops a spoonful of cereal into her mouth and turns the page on the latest issue of Maxim.

  “Then go run.”

  “Maybe later.” She slurps another spoonful of milk.

  “How’s the apartment search going?” I pour the last of the cereal into a bowl. “Jesus Christ, I bought this yesterday.” I toss the box onto the pile making its way up the wall.

  “You have good taste in cereal.”

  “I have good taste in everything.” Except roommates.

  Leeyan hops down and places her bowl in the dishwasher without rinsing it first. I want to say something, but I can’t without sounding like a bitch.

  “I decided to go with my last resort,” she says regarding her living situation.

  “The Green Tortoise wasn’t the last resort?”

  “Not even close.”

  “Do I want to know the details?”

  “The place isn’t the issue, it’s who owns it.”

  Where she lives shouldn’t be my concern.

  Leeyan Flores isn’t my problem.

  “Have you given any more thought to how you plan to tell Theo you’re home?” I finish my cereal and rinse my bowl.

  She fidgets with the string on her sweats. “I thought I’d just show up on his doorstep.”

  “Yeah, ’cause surprises like that always go well.” I place my bowl in the dishwasher, which is full enough for a cycle.

  I could go a week without accumulating this many dishes. Leeyan, however, seems to go through bowls, plates, and cups like she’s been feeding an entire platoon. What she does here when I’m out vexes me.

  The other night Leeyan sent me a text during a dinner date. My client had just asked me to her room for a nightcap when my phone dinged. It was my bad—I forgot to turn off the ringer. Any other day, I would’ve ignored it, but it isn’t every day I have a woman stashed in my apartment. When my date excused herself to use the ladies’ room, I pulled up the text with all the giddiness of a fifteen-year-old girl. It was a picture of a banana wearing an American flag G-string. The caption: Your laundry was delivered. She thought it was hilarious until I told her Theo had the same one.

  I was so engrossed in my conversation with Leeyan, I didn’t realize the client had returned. She decided watching me text was a turn-off, and I lost at least two grand when she cut the date short.

  “I have to get ready.” I place my hand on her shoulder as I walk past. I don’t know why I do this. Touching her is wrong, yet I find myself doing it every chance I get.

  “Will you see Theo tonight?”

  “No, he has the night off.” I walk into the bedroom and pull my gym clothes from their drawer. Theo is going on his first side job.

  I return to the kitchen where Leeyan is putting two pieces of my organic wheat bread into the toaster.

  “My cereal wasn’t enough?”

  “I had a small bowl.” There’s no shame in her game.

  “I only have peanut butter.”

  “Peanut butter is my fave.” She pulls a knife from the drawer then knocks it closed with her hip.

  The old me could never have had a woman in the apartment like this—casual, platonic. I admit there are times I imagine what it would feel like to bend her over the couch and fuck her into next week—I am a man—but mostly she annoys me, even more so now that we have a no whiskey rule.

  “Please wash the knife in the sink—peanut butter never comes off in the dishwasher.”

  “Yes, sir!” She salutes.

  I walk around the counter to the bench by the door and grab my gym bag. “I won’t be too late toni
ght. You want to me pick up some food?”

  The toast pops up and Leeyan removes them from the toaster.

  “No, I’m out of here.”

  My bag drops to the floor with a thud. “Really?”

  She looks up with a sad expression hidden behind the fake it til you make it smile.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll clean before I go. It’ll be like I was never here.”

  If only that were true. My apartment will never be the same, will never feel the same.

  “So, you’re ready to see Lulu and Theo?”

  “I finally grew some balls, big hairy ones.”

  “Thanks for that visual.”

  She places the knife in the sink and sighs.

  “I can’t pay you back for everything you’ve done.”

  “Please, don’t even—”

  “Let me say this, okay?” Her hands are flat against the marble counter like it’s holding her up, supporting her. “I lost everything when I left—friends, respect, love…so many things. I spent three years pretending I didn’t need anyone. It’s a shitty way to live, especially when I had people here who missed me.” She walks around the counter and gives me a hug. “Thank you for giving me time, Gio. I wouldn’t be ready to see my daughter if it wasn’t for you.”

  I don’t feel like I’ve done anything to earn her praise, but sometimes it isn’t about you; it’s how others perceive your actions.

  “I’m going to see Lulu tonight,” she gushes.

  “She’s going to love you.” Who wouldn’t?

  “And Theo? Do you think he’s going to forgive me?”

  He’d be a fool not to.

  ***

  After the gym, I meet Rico for lunch at our usual spot.

  “Tell me about Theo’s gig.” I stab a crouton with my fork and savor the carbs. It’s salad day since I’m dancing tonight and haven’t meal prepped since Leeyan’s arrival. I’m scared to step on a scale and my midsection is already losing definition—I’m down to a four pack.

  “Run-of-the-mill wedding date. The chick is young, probably wants to impress her ex or something. She’s going to be more nervous than Theo. I ran a check, she’s a good girl.” Rico winks because we both know good girls are the freakiest. “He’ll be home by midnight.”

  I consider texting Leeyan to let her know Theo’s schedule. I’ve done enough. It’s time to distance myself from Leeyan. She’ll figure things out on her own. All I can do is make sure I’m there for Theo. He’s my priority now.

  “What’s up with Brazil? You making progress?”

  “Yep.” I shove a pile of arugula into my mouth.

  Rico waits for me to finish chewing, like I have more to say.

  “What?”

  “Has the glamour of moving worn off already?”

  “I have a lot going on.”

  “You’ve been working like a beast—is your dick sore yet?”

  “Not all dates end with sex.”

  “Then you’re not doing it right, son!” Rico laughs at his comment. “For real, though, are you still all in on Rio?”

  If anything could make Rico Team Brazil, it would be me playing house with Leeyan.

  “I’m learning Portuguese.”

  “Is it hard?”

  “Not really.” I’ve only completed fifteen percent of the program, but I’ll let Rico believe I’m practically fluent. What does he know anyway?

  “I should learn a second language. Women love bilingual men. Shit, if you can do it…” he says, taking a cheap shot at my learning ability. “I can start marketing you as a Brazilian lover, make a little more green before you fly the coop.”

  Rico is always looking out for number one. As much as I want to believe he’ll miss me, I know he’s going to miss the money I make for him more.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Trance is packed tonight. I make three hundred dollars on the stage and another two hundred when I give special attention to a bride-to-be at a VIP table. I don’t book a single private. That’s my punishment for missing shifts the last two weeks. I’m lucky Jim even let me have a solo.

  My shift ended an hour ago. I’m just hanging out, trying to get laid. After two weeks of living with Leeyan, the most untouchable woman on the planet, I’m ready for more. The fact that I’ve been able to keep my dick in check is a personal accomplishment. It proves I can have a non-sexual relationship with a woman who isn’t paying for my time. Theo and Sylvie had a friends-with-benefits thing going and now they’re friends. Miracles do happen.

  I return to the VIP table with a round of shots. The bride slides her had across my thigh and inches toward my dick. I spread my legs a little wider and place my arm around her, like I’m cuddling her on a couch. Her veil is crooked and one of her eyelashes has come unglued.

  “You’re hot.” She breathes tequila breath into my ear as she palms the head of my dick. I try not to react. I don’t want her bridal party to catch on. Even though she considers these women her most trusted friends, her tribe, I’ll bet a thousand dollars one of them wants to fuck her man and watching her jerk off a stripper is just the ammo needed to blow up her life and swoop in on the fiancé.

  “Whose phone is this?” A woman across the table bends over and picks up a cell phone from the floor.

  My hand goes to my pocket.

  Fuck.

  “Mine.”

  Cell phones in the main room are a huge no-no, but Theo is on his first side job and I want to make sure he can reach me in case something goes wrong. That’s a lie. Leeyan is going to show up on his doorstep tonight, so I want to make sure I’m there for him, and for her.

  When I see Theo’s number on the screen, I jump up.

  “Dain!” I stop him as he walks by. “Ladies, my partner in crime will keep you company while I tend to some business.”

  Dain slides into the booth and the ladies forget I exist. They don’t want me any more than I want them. I’m just a body, an object. To me, they’re nothing more than an ATM.

  I answer as I walk toward the bar.

  Theo rambles about running into one of his regulars at a hotel. “She handed me fifteen hundred dollars and I walked out. I feel like I owe her more than a conversation. What should I do? Should I give the money back?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me? Keep the money,” I yell. I have one finger in my ear to drown out the music. “Get out of there before you grow a conscience. Think of Lulu.”

  I give him the spiel about people getting paid for their time. Lawyers and doctors get top dollar for consultations. It’s the same for us. Sometimes a woman just needs a man to listen.

  “Unless you really want to fuck her…”

  “Of course not,” Theo says.

  “Did she hit on you?”

  “Not really, but I’m pretty sure she would fuck me.” Theo’s right—she would fuck him. He’s fuckable.

  I’m not fuckable. I’m the best friend, the good listener. If things work out between Theo and Leeyan, I’ll be a hero, the one who brought them back together.

  “Go home, Theo. You have a beautiful girl waiting for you.”

  I head back to the VIP table. The bride-to-be and Dain are gone.

  “She paid for a private.” The woman who found my phone pushes a shot glass in front of me.

  She’s a short dirty blonde with brown eyes, a plain Jane, the duff of the group.

  “Thanks.” I lift the glass and take the shot with her. “What’s your name?”

  “Marnie. I’m the maid of honor.” She hiccups. “I set this up—the party bus, the cocaine, everything—and this is what I get.” She gestures to the passed-out girl on her left. “Shouldn’t I be the one getting laid tonight?”

  I can make that happen.

  “Things aren’t too bad—you have me.” I pretend to be kidding, like my ego isn’t holding a gun to his head ready to pull the trigger because Marnie doesn’t think I’m hot.

  She reaches across the table to touch my hand.

  “I didn’t
mean your company wasn’t good enough.”

  I offer a smug smile, sighing in relief on the inside.

  “I’m a little heated. They’re all off in private rooms and I’m playing babysitter to the future sister-in-law.”

  I move around the table to sit beside Marnie. We could both use a little company right now.

  “I was ditched tonight too.”

  “Who would be dumb enough to ditch you?”

  I shake it off. “Doesn’t matter now. She’s gone.”

  “She’s an idiot.”

  “She’s actually pretty smart.” And beautiful. And funny.

  What the fuck, Gio?

  Why are you sitting here moping about Leeyan fucking Flores?

  “You’re telling me there’s a woman somewhere out there who chose not to be with you?”

  “Yes.” I won't elaborate; I just want to sulk for a few more hours.

  “Do you have a secret flaw?” Marnie pretends to look me over. “Let me smell your breath.”

  “What? No.” I lean back.

  “Come on, there must be something wrong with you—unless she gave you the good old it isn’t you, it’s me line.”

  I’m misleading Marnie, but I don’t care. Self-loathing always feels good with a partner. It would feel even better if we were naked.

  “Do you want to get out of here?”

  Marnie pulls back slightly. “You mean like to a private room?”

  “No, I mean out of the club. We can go for a walk.”

  Or back to my place.

  Marnie isn’t a supermodel or even an Old Navy model, but she’ll do.

  “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I can’t leave her.” She scoots closer to the comatose chick and starts looking around—you know, like, for help. I completely misread this entire conversation.

  “Oh, yeah. You should stay with her.” I stand and wave to the dud by the bar. “The next round is on me.”

  “You don’t have to do that.” Marnie looks at me like I’m a sad sack.