Dare Me (A MFM Ménage Romance)

by Vivian Ward

  “J-just a minute!” I call out. Shit! I’m only wearing a shirt, and I don’t even have pants to put on. Looking down at myself, I see how huge his shirt is on me and realize that it’s not so bad. You can’t really see anything underneath it. Opening the door, I politely smile, “Sorry. Um, my….,” I glance toward the bathroom where Zack is belting out a rock song, “my friend ordered, and I thought he’d be out of the shower by now. You can just set it over there.”

  The young man gives me a sarcastic smile with his eyebrow cocked. He thinks I’m full of shit. There’s no ‘friend’ in the shower. There’s a half-naked man in there, singing the chorus to a song that’s obviously stuck in his head. I can see how this must look to an outsider and quickly dismiss him from our room.

  Everything smells amazing, and now I wish I would have ordered something because my belly is starting to growl at me. Zack walks out of the bathroom with a white towel neatly tied around his waist while he uses a smaller hand towel to dry his hair.

  “Oh, good, it already came. I’m starved!”

  He plops down on the bed next to me and begins to dig in. I watch as he inhales his food, wondering how I should try to slip out without making too much of a scene. I don’t want to sound like I am making excuses by saying, “Oh, sorry, I’ve got plans today,” but I also don’t want to sound desperate and wait for him to ask me to leave.

  “You want a bite? The sausage is extra crispy today, and the bacon is cooked perfect,” he holds up a piece of sausage after he stabs it with his fork.

  Some food might help cure this nasty hangover that I have, but I don’t want to impose. “No, thank you. Actually,” I glance at the alarm clock, “I had better get going.”

  “Kay,” he wipes his lips with a napkin before he picks up his glass of water. “We still on for tonight? You promised me.”

  Tonight? What’s tonight? What did I promise?

  “What? What are you—”

  “Joline, don’t tease.”

  “I’m not. What are you talking about?”

  “Remember? Tonight at ten?”

  I’m racking my brain trying to figure out what he’s talking about but I don’t have a clue. Slowly, I begin shaking my head no.

  “At Rigozzi’s?”

  “Nope. I don’t have a clue.”

  “We’re going to Rigozzi’s to play cards tonight. You’re going to be one of my spotters again, right?” He can tell that I still don’t know what he’s talking about, but the alarms are already going off in my head.

  A spotter? Me?

  When it comes to counting cards, there are two groups: the spotters and the big players.

  The spotters sit at the table playing cards and bet the minimum, careful to never fluctuate their bet while they’re counting cards. When the deck gets hot, they signal the big player over to their table and let them know that the odds of them winning are favorable. The big player comes and bets big money—thousands of dollars—and play until the deck cools, then they leave and wait for another deck to get hot at a different table. There are typically several spotters and a few big players to each group, but cheating like this can get you killed.

  I’ve seen them a million times while working in the casino, and I can’t imagine me doing something that risky. That dangerous. But if it happened while I was with Zack last night, I can believe it. There’s something about him.

  He can get me to do just about anything.

  “I, um,” my mouth is suddenly dry, and my brain is blank. I can’t think. I can’t talk. “Um, I-I can’t do that. It’s too much of a risk. Too dangerous.”

  He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me on top of his lap, stroking my hair as he caresses my skin. My heart is pounding, and I can hear it in my ears.

  “Joline,” he gazes into my eyes. “It is safe because we’re careful. My crew takes very few risks, and we’ve been doing it for such a long time.” He pauses, watching me. “Last night you did such an amazing job with my crew. They all really liked you.”

  “What?” I ask. “What exactly did we do last night?” My head drops and I look myself over. It can’t be good considering that my dress is gone and I’m wearing his shirt.

  Laughter bursts out of his mouth as he takes my hand in his. “I promise. I was a complete gentleman.”

  “Then tell me what happened. Why did I leave with you? What did you say to me? What did I tell you? I want to know it all.”

  “When we were dancing, you seemed over the moon that I could get you out of your mess, and you were ready to leave with me right then and there, but my brother stepped in and refused to let you out of his sight. That’s why I had you leave with me through the back door when he went for his keys because it was the only opportunity that I had to get you out of there before you got in the car and left with him.”

  It must be evident that I’m as lost as ever. He reaches over and rests his hand on my arm.

  “We left the reception, and the two of us went to a club that I like to frequent. You were telling me how badly you needed money and I told you that I could help you out of your financial dilemma; put an end to all of your money problems now.”

  “I don’t like where this is going, but I’m listening.” As he continues talking, I start having vague memories of being in a club. They were more like small ‘glimpses’ or ‘images’ in my head when I first woke up that I had initially thought I must have been dreaming, but now I realize that they weren’t ‘visions’ of any kind. They are memories from last night.

  Confused, I’m still not sure what happened after that. After all, pictures speak louder than words and I’m half naked, wearing his shirt. He catches me glancing down at the shirt of his that I’m wearing.

  “And before you ask, no, we didn’t have sex.”

  “What?”

  “I saw you looking at yourself. We didn’t have sex.”

  “Then what did we do? I’m so confused,” I begin rubbing my temples. If the damned room would just stop spinning, everything would be so much better.

  “You were my spotter last night at Rigozzi’s. You did an amazing job which impressed the hell out of me. You have no idea how wasted you were, and if you can do that well when you’re plastered, I’d love to see what you can do when you’re sober.”

  Bile begins creeping its way to the top of my throat, and I can taste acid in my mouth. I think I’m going to be sick.

  “I did what?”

  Suddenly, hearing that we didn’t have sex is the least of my worries.

  Please tell me that I heard him wrong. I did not go to Rigozzi’s last night, I did not count cards, and I didn’t do an amazing job at cheating.

  If the guys at Rigozzi’s figures out what we were doing, they might come after us! They’ll track my ass down and then I’ll be done for!

  “Joline, I know you’ve always been a good girl, lived an honest life, but you’ve got something in you. There’s this…,” he puts his hand on my face and holds it against my cheek. It feels like pure electricity against my face and my nipples harden at his tender touch. I never had any idea that a giant man like him could have such a gentle touch. “Spark about you. I don’t know what it is, Joline, but I can see it. It’s always been there. Hiding. Lurking. It’s your dark side, and it’s calling out to me. It’s like you know how to work spells. Like black magic shit. I’ll help you if you help me.”

  How much did I tell him? I can’t believe I agreed to this. He knows fucking everything. Every. Single. Thing.

  I want to run. Hide. Never turn back, but it’s too late. I’ve already crossed that boundary. That imaginary line.

  The one that says you don’t cheat the house. The one that says honesty is always the best policy. The one that says you sure as hell don’t play games that put you in the middle between two brothers.

  Even though nothing happened between us, we didn’t have sex, I feel like I’ve cheated on Trent. But I didn’t. Did I? If we didn’t do anything wrong—sexually—then why do I
feel so guilty.

  “I, um, appreciate your offer, but I can’t help you count cards. When I worked in the casino, I saw what they did to—”

  “People like me?” he finishes my sentence with a clever grin tugging at his lips. God, why does he have to be so gorgeous? “That’s why we’re playing at Rigozzi’s. Joline,” he puts his hand on my cheek, cradling my face, “I can’t play in the casinos. Not with their facial recognition software. There are too many eyes in the sky there. I play underground for a reason.”

  His phone rings, interrupting our conversation but he glances at the screen and clicks to ignore it before stuffing it out of sight.

  “What would happen if you walked into a casino?” I whisper. I already know the answer, but I want to hear him say it. I need his honesty.

  “Well,” he lowers his fingers to my arm and begins softly tracing my skin. “As soon as they see me—either with their own eyes or once the cameras alerted them to who I am—they’d have their biggest, baddest security guards come sweep me out of the way of cameras and people. They’d take me to a private, secluded area and…,” his voice trails off. His eyes are dancing back and forth as though he’s replaying something in his mind. “See this scar? This is where they used a screwdriver for my last warning,” he points to the area behind his ear.

  I gasp.

  “Oh my,” he allows my fingers to trace the area. The indented scar behind his ear is deep and thick. I can almost imagine how they stabbed him there, twisting and turning the screwdriver in place as a warning to never cheat their casino again. “Zack,” I whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

  As I continue imagining what happened to him on that particular night, a shiver races down my spine as I wonder if my security guard friends at my old casino ever did that to anyone. They always laughed and talked to me, walked me out to my car and once, one of them even followed me home after some creep had been hitting on me for an entire week. The final straw was when he left roses on my car one night. I was so freaked out that I was scared to go home. He shouldn’t have known which vehicle was mine out of hundreds, if not thousands, of other cars parked in the same garage. There was no telling what else he knew about me.

  But even though the security guards were friends of mine, they were enemies of people like Zack. They hate men like him. Despise more accurately describes the correct term. If I join him, I will be one of those guys. One of the enemies.

  I’d be in the same danger.

  But Zack would protect me. There’s no doubt about that. I’ve always known I could trust him with my life.

  “It’s in the past,” he brushes my hand away. “Besides, that’s why I do it underground now. There are no cameras, it’s harder for them to figure it out, and then there’s my crew. We’re a loyal pack. We always stick together.”

  “I’ve got to ask,” I start. But I’m almost too afraid to ask, too terrified to know the answer. I choose my words carefully. “Who’s spot did I replace last night, and why?”

  “You’re replacing Andy because she had to go out of town to handle her parent’s estate. Her dad died two years ago, so all that was left was her mom. She passed away in her sleep a week ago, and it’s been hell playing without her. We need another spotter. Bad. And you did so wonderfully last night. You’re exactly what our crew needs.”

  “Can’t you just wait for her to come back?”

  “She could be gone a few weeks, it could be months, or it might take up to two years. Hell, she might not ever come back. The problem is, we can’t sit around and wait.”

  “Zack, I can’t do it. Not for that long. I’m afraid that I’ll get caught, we’ll get caught, and I don’t know what will happen.”

  “Joline, you’re the best option that I have. Working in a casino, you know how to cheat, what dealers and other players look for, and you can avoid getting caught because you know exactly how it’s done.”

  I can’t believe that I’m even considering helping him. It could get me killed; both of us, actually. The look in his eyes says there’s more to this story. I want to ask, but just like before, I’m afraid of the answer. The less I know, the better off I probably am.

  “Why is this so important? Are you that addicted? Addicted to cheating and gambling? There are places you can go to get help if you think—”

  He laughs and holds up his hand, silencing me. “I’m not so weak that I can’t control myself. There are very few things that I can’t live without,” his hand slides along my upper thigh. “Gambling is not one of them.”

  His warm hand is still on my leg, and his mouth is only inches from my earlobe. I can feel his breath tickling my skin, and it’s making me so wet. If he moves his hand, my wetness will betray me, and I don’t want it to do that.

  We’ve always been friends. Close friends. I can help him out, right? For just a little while?

  But then I think about his brother, and how we’ve been casually dating. Trent would be so hurt if he knew that I spent the night with his brother. He’d never believe that we didn’t do anything. No sex, no nothing. Just fell asleep.

  His oceanic eyes are staring at me, waiting for an answer. For reasons that I can’t understand, I say yes before I have another chance to think about it. I want to help him, even if it means putting myself in danger. He needs me. Trent doesn’t have to know everything I do. Not only am I helping a good friend, but I’m also getting myself out of my financial mess until I can figure out a permanent solution. I just know that if I keep trying, I’ll find a job before too long. Something is bound to pop up.

  “Good,” his eyes smile, pleased with my answer. “I’ll pick you up at 9:30 sharp. Wear something sexy.”

  Odd. I remember his brother telling me the same thing for our first ‘unofficial’ business date.

  “Why?”

  “So you can distract the dealer and the other players at the table, beautiful.”

  “Oh.” I can feel myself blushing.

  I’m not sure how he’s talked me into doing this, but he did. Damn, he’s good. Still, in the hotel room, I instantly regret my decision. I want to back out, but I can’t. Hopefully, by tonight, I’ll still be able to go through with it because I need the money as much as he needs my help.

  Chapter 9

  Past

  Stability.

  That’s one thing that I’ve always wanted for myself, in addition to independence.

  I’ve never been one to rely on others, but sometimes I’ve lacked in judgment, like when I moved to Vegas.

  I was naive to believe that moving thousands of miles away from home would fix things. If anything, all it did was complicate my situation more.

  I should have dealt with my feelings about Trent and Zack a long time ago, but I didn’t. Instead, I hoped things would just go away, die down on their own, but that’s not how life works.

  Trent is as solid as a rock. He knows what he wants in life, has stability, independence and experience. Those are all admirable qualities to have. I know I certainly wish I had them.

  Zack is the complete opposite.

  Some may say he’s shady; some say daring. I say he’s just like me. Call it what you want, but we’re two peas in a pod.

  Ironically, I had a premonition almost as though it were a dream after our Trent took me to a play last night.

  We saw Love Letters which is almost very similar to mine and his relationship. Our deep connection to one another has always been there, but it seems as though time and distance have always kept us apart.

  His life consists of organization, extreme talent, and a will to succeed. I’ve always had prestige for him, and it was never more clear than during our date.

  My life consists of disorganization, failed attempts, and a way of complicating things beyond their control. I wish I could be more like Trent, but I’m not so sure it’s in the cards for me.

  Reaching into the popcorn, I look into his eyes while he’s watching the play and it’s at this moment that I realize this play is very s
imilar to our lives, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s just happy to be with me, enjoying our time together.

  Sitting in the theater, he takes my hand in his and kisses the back of it. Some say that this is a term of endearment, love, and admiration; though, I’m not sure how anyone can love me with as much of a mess as my life is.

  Watching the play, I closely follow along with Melissa and Andrew’s stories. The pair is romantically attached even though they live so far apart, even from a young age and communicate any way they can.

  While Melissa fails a streak of good schools that have been made available to her, Andrew does the opposite and flourishes at some of the countries top-notch schools. Similarly how Trent and I kind of went our own separate ways even though we were both—at one point—in the same spot, educationally speaking.

  From there, Andrew has to go to war for the good of our country and while away, Melissa marries; though, the communication, through—you guessed it—letters, never ceases between the two. It’s like somehow; they always remained connected in one strange way or another.

  No matter how many miles apart Trent and I have always been apart, I’ve always been able to reach out to him. We could have remained in constant contact all these years through, but I chose not to because I could never make a decision between him and his brother.

  When Andrew returns home from the war, he continues with his life and becomes stronger, more successful and more defined in who he is. Poor Melissa, though, much like me, finds herself in a dilapidating marriage, winds up becoming an alcoholic and alienates herself from her family.

  Of course, as all love stories go, the two eventually become a couple, but it’s too late for them. Andrew writes a final letter to her mom after his sweet Melissa passes in an unfortunate death making it crystal clear how much they meant to one another over the years and how much they gave each other.