With Jade, every time she gets angry at me—pretty much every time we’re together she’s angry, I can’t lie—all I can imagine is if she’s that passionate when she’s mad? Imagine what she’d be like in bed.
Or on a couch.
Against a wall.
In the shower.
On the floor.
In the backseat of my car.
Clearly, she distracts the shit out of me.
“I mean, this date isn’t over,” I tell her as I throw the car into reverse and wrap my arm around the back of her seat, glancing over my shoulder so I can back out. My fingers dangle treacherously close to her shoulder and I’m tempted to touch her. Just a casual brush of fingers, nothing major.
But I’m nervous that once I touch her, I won’t be able to stop. More like I won’t want to stop.
“You took me to dinner. Isn’t that enough?” She crosses her arms in front of her chest, plumping up her breasts and I sneak a glance at them, only to immediately regret it because damn, her cleavage. The girl’s body is bangin’.
“No, it’s not enough.” I keep my gaze focused on the road in front of me, speeding but not too much over the limit. “I just need to make a quick stop. It won’t take long.” Better not take long. I have way more important things to do.
Like Jade.
“Where?”
“There’s trouble at one of the tables,” I mutter, just under my breath, hoping she won’t hear me.
But she must have sonar hearing because she swivels in her seat, her arms dropping to her sides as she stares at me so hard, I bet she’s burning holes in my face. “You’re taking me back to that—gambling house? Oh God, no. I do not want to return to the scene of the crime.”
“The scene of the crime?” She’s hilarious. Says the craziest things.
“Yes. Where we met.” She stares at me with a look that says duh. “Remember?”
“Trust me. I remember every detail about that night.”
I can still feel her glaring at me and I’m tempted to say something else but I don’t. It’s best I leave it alone. Focus on driving. Focus on my anger towards Gabe because what the hell. Why can’t he take care of this problem? It’s not that big of a deal.
We arrive within minutes and I park the car out on the street, directly in front of the house. We make any and all so-called patrons of our establishment park down the street so as not to call too much attention and so far since we started this little side business two years ago, we’ve been successful in doing just that.
“I won’t be long,” I tell her as I put the car into park. “A few minutes, tops.”
“I’m staying in the car,” Jade says when I turn off the engine.
“Whatever. It’s your choice.” I don’t feel like arguing. We could go round and round in circles wasting precious time. Besides, she might be safer in the car. I have no idea what’s going on inside.
The moment I enter the house and see the six-foot-five gorilla sitting at the blackjack table with his meaty fingers curled around the edge of the table, his expression one of pure fury, I know it’s a huge deal. This guy is massive. Gigantic. With closely cropped dark brown hair and murder in his pale blue eyes, his face so red he looks ready to explode, all earlier plans of how to approach him evaporate.
“He’s been sitting like that for the past five minutes,” Gabe says out of the side of his mouth when I come to stand beside him. He’s leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in front of him, his gaze never leaving our subject. “Doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word, just his face keeps getting redder and redder.”
“How much has he had to drink?” I evaluate the scene. No one else is currently sitting at the blackjack table. In fact, the entire place is pretty much empty, which is typical of a Sunday night. Business is usually slow. But not this slow.
“Plenty of beer. I don’t think that’s the problem though. He’s been in here before. I recognize him. Name’s Stan. Football player.” Gabe turns to look at me, his expression serious. “I think he’s on something.”
I frown. “Like what?” Drinking happens here. We encourage it. Makes everyone looser with their bets. Drugs? Can’t necessarily escape it because we’re in college and it feels like everyone’s doing drugs. Prescription medication, weed, and cocaine seem to be the drugs of choice lately, but we don’t usually have a problem with anyone getting out of control while under the influence.
“Coke,” Gabe says, shaking his head. “I just spoke to one of his friends. Says Stan here can get real angry sometimes when he’s done too much coke.”
“Fucking great,” I mutter as I start to head over to the table. The dealer—Patrick, great guy, a senior, sad to see him graduate—looks nervous as hell, his gaze skittering to mine briefly before he returns his attention to Stan the Gorilla. “Hey Stan. What’s the problem here?” I keep my voice light, my approach friendly. Don’t want to rile this guy up any more than he already is.
He blinks slowly, his eyes narrowing as he tips his head forward. “Who the fuck are you?”
I wave a hand at Patrick. “Head on out, bro. I got this handled.”
Patrick doesn’t say a word, just scurries his skinny ass out of there like his jeans are on fire.
“I own this place,” I tell Stan, smiling at him. “And we’re just about ready to close down for the night so I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave.”
I swear Stan’s fingers tighten even harder around the edge of the blackjack table. I hope like hell he doesn’t break it. “Fuck you,” he says, his voice slow and thick. “I’m not going anywhere, asshole. Need to win my money back before I leave.”
“Afraid you’ll have to come back another night to do that.” I reach out to grab his arm but he shrugs me off, his expression tight, his eyes dull. The dude is clearly wasted. “Come on, no need to be stubborn.”
“Fuck you and your pansy ass talk. I’m not leaving until I can play enough hands to win back the money I came here with,” he slurs, his head lolling to the side before he snaps back to attention.
Hell. How much did this guy drink? And how much coke did he do? Oh and… “How much did you lose?”
Stan smiles, his eyelids drooping. He looks ready to pass out. “Forty bucks.”
That’s it? Big fucking deal. I got this. I go behind the table where Patrick stood and scan the various chips before I lift my head and meet Stan’s gaze. “Let’s play then.”
Jade
He is taking way too long and I’m starting to freak out. What if something’s gone wrong inside? They won’t call the cops to handle their problems. What they’re doing is illegal.
God, look at me. Yes, me. Straight laced, good girl Jade Frost is hanging out with a billionaire spoiled sexy brat who runs an illegal freaking casino in a house just off campus. What have I done? Who am I, for God’s sake?
Heaving a big sigh, I push open the heavy door and climb out of his luxurious Mercedes, slamming the door behind me. I’m heading up the walk when I spot two girls sitting on a couch on the front porch of the house, the both of them gawking at me like I’m some sort of celebrity who magically appeared.
“Did you just get out of Shep Prescott’s car?” one of them asks, her voice full of wonder.
Oh, here we go. Shep groupies. “I did,” I say with a lift of my chin. I hope they don’t want to beat me up or pull out my hair or whatever.
“Wow,” the other one says, drawing out the word so it sounds more like woooooow. “Rumor has it he doesn’t let any girl get in his car. Not even his mom.”
His mom doesn’t even live in this state but whatever. “Is that so?”
“Yeah,” the first one pipes up. “He won’t even fuck a girl in the backseat. Too afraid he’ll get his leather interior dirty and sweaty and…wet.” They both dissolve into giggles.
Um, this is awkward. Even more awkward? That what they’re telling me actually makes me…happy. If what they’re saying is true, I feel some sort of strange honor that I’m sup
posedly the first girl to ride in his car.
“Hey.” The second one straightens up, her giggling coming to a halt. “Aren’t you in my communications class?”
I tilt my head, studying her. She’s cute, with long golden blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail and clear blue eyes. Her boobs are about ready to burst out of the deep V of her pale pink T-shirt and she’s wearing extremely short denim cutoffs. “I think so,” I tell her though truthfully, I don’t recognize her. That class is ginormous though so there’s a good chance she’s right.
“I knew it!” She smiles brightly, her ponytail swishing. “My name is Emily and this is Emma.”
Emily and…Emma? Oh good lord. “Nice to meet you,” I say with a smile.
“We like to call ourselves Em and Em.” Emma smiles and nudges Emily with an elbow. “Get it?”
“Oh yeah,” I say as they start giggling again. “I definitely get it. That’s…cute.”
“We thought so! So hey, are you going inside?” The giggles are gone again and Emily leans in close, like she’s about to confess something big. “I wouldn’t if I were you. There’s some freak sitting at the blackjack table who refuses to leave.”
“We know that freak, you bitch,” Emma says, slapping her arm.
“Right. I think that’s why Shep is here,” I tell her, my gaze going to the window. The blinds are cracked but I can kind of see through them and I try to peer inside, hoping to catch a glimpse of Shep. But I don’t see him.
“Ooh, so are you two fucking exclusively or what?” Emma asks, all perky and cheerleader like. I can imagine her as a cheerleader too. Her dark hair is pulled into a high pony just like Emily’s and she’s wearing a black V neck T-shirt with denim shorts. Just like Emily. In fact, Emma has a pink bow in her hair and Emily has a black bow. As in, they match.
Weird.
“We’re not…fucking,” I tell them, earning disappointed looks from the both of them. I’m tempted to apologize for letting them down. “I barely know him.”
“Honey, you don’t have to know Shepard Prescott to fuck him,” Emily says sarcastically. “I mean, look at the man. He’s fucking gorge.”
I’ve heard of girls who talk like this. I’ve witnessed them in class and even Kelli slips on occasion. Shortening her words, talking in code, tossing out crude words like they’re no big deal. It’s so odd. With my friends back home, we never talked like that.
Of course, we were pretty nerdy.
“Want a drink?” Emma waves a silver flask at me and I blink, wondering where it came from. “Vodka and Redbull. It’ll give you wings.” Emily bursts out laughing and I figure she already found her wings.
“Sure,” I say, because why not? I have no idea how long Shep’s going to take and I could be out on this front porch all night. Besides, Em and Em, they seem harmless.
Emma hands over the flask and I take a sip, then another, wincing as the liquid slides down my throat. It’s sort of awful. I’ve never liked Redbull. I prefer vodka and cranberry juice. But hey, when in Rome…
Within twenty minutes we’ve polished off Emma’s flask and are starting in on Emily’s. Shep still hasn’t come out of the house, I’m giggling like the Em and Em girls and we’re all three relaxing on the couch—because all houses close to the university have a couch on the front porch, duh—passing the flask back and forth between us, careful not to spill a drop.
“Can I confess something to you?” Emma asks me as she wipes the back of her hand across her mouth but somehow she misses. Her lips are still shiny with vodka and Red Bull and her eyes are dilated. She looks spun.
I start to laugh because my head is fuzzy and damn it, I’m a happy drunk. “Sure,” I tell her as I take another sip. Emily’s flask is hot pink. I like it. I need a flask. I’m going to ask for one for my birthday. Or maybe Christmas. It would make a great stocking stuffer. I’m sure my parents won’t mind.
“I thought you were a total stuck up bitch when I first saw you in class.” Emma slaps her hand over her mouth the moment the words tumble out.
“Em!” Emily yells, nudging her so hard Emma goes toppling into my lap. We all start laughing, though deep down, I’m sort of hurt.
She thought I was a bitch? Why? Why do so many people think that? God, even Joel said the same thing to me once we started dating. He admitted he was afraid to approach me and ask me out on a date but somehow worked up the courage. At the time I thought it was cute.
Now I’m thinking maybe I give off some sort of bitch vibe or something. Ugh.
Fucking Joel. Fucking Shep. Fucking everyone in my life.
“You’re not a bitch though,” Emma says once we’ve all calmed down. “You’re very sweet. I like you. We should hang out more.” Her head is still in my lap and she reaches up, tapping me on the tip of my nose. “Want a bump?”
“Huh?” I’m confused.
“Em,” Emily hisses before she sends me an apologetic look. “Forgive her. She’s super drunk. And when she’s super drunk, she wants to do all the drugs she can find.”
“Like a mountain of cocaine sounds sooo good right about now,” Emma says, laughing as she taps my nose again. “You have a perfect nose, you know that? I’m jealous.” She taps her own nose. “I had to get a nose job to fix my honker.”
The word honker sends the three of us into another fit of giggles and I push Emma off my lap, clutching at my sides. “It hurts to laugh,” I protest.
“I know what’ll fix that right up.” Emma whips out a vile containing a small amount of white powder. “Want some? Stan hooked me up.”
“Wait a minute.” Emily shoves at Emma’s shoulder, earning a dirty look for her efforts. “You mean that asshole who won’t leave the table? That Stan gave you coke?”
Emma shrugs, a smile curling her lips. “I might’ve offered up my—cock sucking services for some. He readily agreed. I figured he’d be too wasted to remember and looks like I was right.”
I stare at the both of them like they’ve totally lost their minds. What in the world have I gotten myself into? These girls…are hardcore. Flasks and vodka and fucking and Redbull and bumps and vials of coke? Blow jobs for drugs? What in the hell?
“You gonna try some?” Emma waves the vial at me, a sweet smile on her face before she twists the lid off and dips her pinky finger inside. She holds it up to her nose and gives a delicate sniff, a shiver moving through her. “Stan always has the best shit,” she tells me with complete authority.
Without a word Emily hands me the flask and I gulp from it, not even tasting the Red Bull any longer. Not tasting anything. I’m not just buzzed I’m drunk. Stuck waiting for my so-called date to finish up his so-called task so he can take me back to my room and tuck me into bed and kiss me and touch me and…
No. I shake my head. It’s the alcohol talking. I absolutely do not want Shep touching me and kissing me and stripping my clothes off, piece by piece…
“Pass it over bitch,” Emily says and Emma hands her the vial. I watch in fascination, feeling like I’m in a movie. A movie that’s about the perils of college, a glimpse into the seedy dark side where sweet college students have gone hopelessly wrong. Where underage freshmen girls drink from flasks and snort coke in public. “You want some, Jade or what? Because if you don’t, I’m going to snort the rest.”
“Don’t be so greedy Em!” Emma yells and they both laugh. Like they do this all the time.
“Um.” I hesitate, watching Emily dig into her purse and pull out a compact mirror and her student ID. She taps out a thin but sloppy line of white powder onto the mirror, then straightens it out with the edge of the ID card, the mirror resting haphazardly on her knees.
“I created this line just for you,” Emily sing songs as she thrusts the mirror in my face. “What do you say, new friend?”
I look from Emily to Emma, the both of them watching me, matching smiles on their faces. They look harmless. They look like they’re having fun. When was the last time I had fun? School has been driving me nut
s. I’m sort of depressed over my breakup with Joel (lies). I’m confused by Shep and what he wants from me (absolute truth). I’m confused in general.
“Okay.” I smile brightly. So brightly, my cheeks hurt from the strain. “Let’s do this.”
“Yay!” they both yell, Emily almost dropping the mirror, making Emma yell at her not to waste a fucking drop—and I quote.
“Just press your finger here.” Emma demonstrates by touching the left side of her nose. “And inhale like so.” She gives a short sniff with her right nostril.
Taking a deep breath, I tell myself I’ll be okay. It’s just a little coke. Emily lifts the mirror higher, so it’s practically in my face, and I tuck my hair behind my ear, lean over the offered mirror with my finger pressed against my nose and…
Yeah. You know what happens next.
Eight
Shep
“Come on, dude.” I slap Stan’s massive back as I lead him out of the house. I’m irritable. Frustrated. But trying to put on a good game face—something I’m most excellent at doing. We went round and round, playing hand after hand, me trying to give away the game yet he still managed to somehow fuck it up. Over an hour later and he finally got his forty bucks back.
Gabe left when he realized I had everything under control, the asshole. I’ve ditched Jade all this time and I’m sure she hates me but what the hell could I do? I sent her a quick apologetic text but she never replied. I sent another text asking her to come inside but she didn’t reply to that one either. Didn’t make an appearance so I figure she’s long gone. I fucking blew it with Jade.
Business comes first though. It couldn’t be helped.
Imagine my surprise when Stan and I step out onto the porch and I see Jade sitting on the couch with two girls, Jade holding a mirror covered with a white line of power up to her face, the other two watching her raptly as she presses her finger to her nose, about ready to…what? Snort a line of fucking cocaine?
Fair Game (The Rules Book 1) Page 9