Hustler

by Meghan Quinn

  “Graham should really start his own gossip magazine,” I answer. “That fuck stick can’t keep anything to himself.”

  “He called me immediately after, pretty sure he was talking to me in the hallway. He gave me a play by play of you talking to that waitress outside of the suite.”

  “Of course he fucking did.” I shake my head. Graham needs to go to counseling. His need to be well-informed of my life is borderline psychotic.

  “So…” Scott trails off, taking a sip from his drink, avoiding the umbrella sticking straight out of it. “Get your first kiss did ya?” He wiggles his eyebrows at me, hilarity in his eyes.

  Sometimes I feel like my life has circled back to middle school, where everyone is in each other’s business, the buzz always being about who kissed who, and who broke up with whom. You would think at almost thirty, I would be able to escape that juvenile world, kiss a woman in the hallway and not have to dissect it the next day with my friends.

  But it’s not that easy because my friends are Graham and Scott. Graham being the informer and Scott being the soother. They bring middle school back in full force with their antics, providing me with constant headaches due to how often I have to defend myself and my life choices. Thankfully, I’m talking to Scott who would rather talk it out than instigate me. Graham, the idiot, just likes to sit to the side like a kid with a stick, poking me every chance he can get.

  Taking a sip of my beer – froo froo drinks are not part of my repertoire – I stretch out on my lounge chair and close my eyes beneath my sunglasses, letting the sun beat down against my bare chest. “You know damn well that wasn’t my first kiss.”

  Scott chuckles. “I mean with the waitress.”

  “She has a name,” I reply, not liking Penelope being referred to as the waitress.

  “Oh that’s right… what is it?” Scott pauses. “Miss Peacoat?”

  “Prescott,” I grit out, irritation taking over. “Her first name is Penelope.”

  “It’s kind of adorable,” Scott responds, his tone completely devoid of sarcasm. He genuinely likes her name. “Penelope Prescott, has a nice ring to it.”

  Penelope is anything but adorable. That’s how you would describe a grandma sitting on a park bench licking at a Mint Chocolate Chip ice cream cone, not Penelope.

  She’s intriguing, mysterious in a way, guarded, beautiful, and sexy all tied up into a pocket full of sass that keeps you on your toes.

  Adorable? Fuck no. Temptress is more like it.

  “Sooo…” Scott presses. “Tell me about her.”

  “We don’t have to do this. We can just lay here in silence and soak in the sun. Talking about our feelings isn’t necessary.”

  Scott sits up on his lounger and eyes me over his tilted sunglasses. “Gavin, Graham isn’t here to press your buttons. Talk to me.”

  Seriously, why does the man have to be so into talking? It’s good to have a friend who is invested in the well-being of your life, but being the kind of guy I am, I don’t talk about my feelings very often, especially in public places. I’ll leave that for the day I grow a vagina, making me and Scott twinsies.

  “Nothing to say,” I shrug.

  “Well, do you like her?”

  Exasperated from his persistence, I answer, “Of course I like her. I wouldn’t be kissing her in hallways if I thought she was a troll, now would I?”

  “I suppose not,” Scott laughs. “Is this just a mindless fuck for you, or are you looking for something long term?”

  Perplexing question. I had no fucking clue at this point. At first, it started as a mindless fuck that I needed to get out of my system but the more vulnerability I saw in her, the more I wanted to protect her. No, the more I needed to protect her. She cut me to my core the other day when I saw the tears fall from her beautiful eyes. The inner rage inside of me boiled and I wanted nothing more than to rip apart the slut who made her feel so badly, then I wanted to tear Henry’s dick off and smack him in the face with it just because he was the one who brought trouble in the first place.

  I’ve never felt like protecting someone before, ever, but there’s just something about Penelope that awakens my inner caveman. The need to beat my chest and piss all around her, marking my territory is almost too strong to control. Would I ever tell her that? Fuck no. That would be showing my cards. Would I admit it to Scott, the eager little beaver practically salivating at the thought of me actually falling for a woman? That would be a fuck no as well.

  I just shrug my shoulders in answer to his question, not completely certain what I want.

  “Oh come on man. Just give me something.”

  “Why?” I ask, wondering why the hell Scott’s suddenly so determined to talk about this shit. It isn’t like we spent much of our friendship braiding each other’s hair and talking about our feelings. We’re men, for Christ’s sake! We don’t do that shit.

  He turns to me and places his drink on the table that rests between us. “Aren’t you worried about dying alone? Going through this world never experiencing love?”

  The fuck is this dude’s deal? “Nope,” I answer simply, not turning to face him. Love is off the table, that’s for damn sure. Love ruins people, just talk to my dad. Oh wait, you can’t, he’s six feet under because of that asinine emotion.

  “You aren’t curious at all to see what it feels like to put another soul ahead of yours? To care so deeply for another human being that you would do anything for them, even if it means running to In and Out right before it closes to get a batch of animal style French fries?”

  I scoff. “First of all, don’t talk about souls and shit, you sound like a twat. Secondly, do I look like a goddamned butler?”

  “Dude…” he gives me a “get real” look. “Don’t act like Graham. You’re above that, douche nugget.”

  “You’re right,” I answer. Scott’s always been successful at reprimanding me and Graham, making us feel like shit heads with just a look. “That comment was high on the douche scale. But no, I’m not curious about that.”

  “What about protecting someone else other than yourself.”

  Such a fucker. I hold back the grin that wants to paint itself across my face. Of course Scott would go there because of what Graham told him. He probably went on and on about how I had to go down to the suite and relieve Penelope of the horrible people treating her with disrespect. Yes, that was true. But now Scott is eating it up and using it against me.

  “No,” I lie.

  “That’s not very forthcoming of you, Gavin. I might not be able to read people like you can, but that was a blatant bluff. Try again.”

  I roll my eyes under my aviators. This was supposed to be a relaxing Sunday afternoon by the pool, not some interrogation about my feelings. You’d think the guy spent his days conducting self-help seminars instead of working with some of the toughest fighters on the planet with all the bullshit he’s incessantly spouting.

  I’m about to tell Scott to fuck off when a woman walking by us accidentally bumps into my chair.

  “Oh, I’m sorry…” her voice trails off as recognition claims her face.

  I sit up in my lounge chair, practically jack knifing off the damn thing in excitement because, standing before me in a tiny yellow bikini, is none other than the topic of our conversation. Penelope. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a messy bun with a pair of sunglasses stuffed in her hair. Her face is devoid of any makeup, giving her a fresh, natural look that literally takes my breath away.

  Because I have no shame, I scan her body, taking in her lithe frame and toned limbs. Her stomach is flat, little definitions of abs poking through. And then there are her breasts…

  I’ve grown accustomed to Penelope’s tits since first realizing her uniform could be somewhat deceiving. They might not be huge, but they’re still fucking spectacular. It’s good to know because I like breasts of all shapes and sizes. If it has a nipple attached to it, I’m interested.

  “Miss Prescott, it’s nice to see you out
and about this morning.”

  “I told you this was a bad idea,” she mumbles to Davies who is standing next to her in a purple bikini, showing off a sexy as hell, curvy body. Good for Davies. Damn!

  “It’s free drinks,” Davies counters. “How can you refuse free drinks on a hot, sunny day like this?”

  Pulling on her friend’s arm, Penelope quickly waves me off and says, “Have a nice day.”

  She’s not getting away that easily.

  “Why don’t you join us,” I call out, stopping her in her tracks.

  With a hand on her hip, she assesses our set up. “You have two lounge chairs and a table of empty drinks, there’s no room for us.”

  “We’re good at making room, aren’t we, Scott?” I slap his leg, cluing him in to sit up and stop staring at Davies so he can move to the side.

  “Oh, yup, plenty of room.” His legs straddle his lounge chair like mine and he scoots back, motioning to his new found space. “See, so much room. Have a seat ladies.”

  “Don’t mind if I do,” Davies says, eyeing Scott’s chest and taking a seat next to him. “Gwen.” She holds out her hand in introduction. “But everyone calls me by my last name.”

  “Gwen it is,” Scott winks. “I don’t like to be like everyone else.”

  “Davies,” Penelope hisses. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Without even looking at her, Davies waves her hand in my direction. “Sit down, will you? I’m busy.”

  Completely immersed in each other right off the bat, Davies and Scott start a conversation, not bothering to include anyone else, leaving me alone with Penelope. Just the way I like it.

  I rub the lounge chair with my hand, a devious smile taking over my face. “Sit, Miss Prescott. I promise I won’t bite.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest, defiance written all over her.

  “I’ll only sit if you call me Penelope. The minute Miss Prescott slips past your lips, I’m leaving.”

  She’s playing hardball, I fucking like it. I’ve felt energized since the last time I saw her so I concede.

  “Done. Now take a seat. What can I order you?”

  “I can get something,” she says, not allowing me to help her. “I just need to flag down a waitress.”

  “I assure you Miss…” I catch myself and swallow my words just as she starts to stand. I clear my throat and start again. “I assure you, Penelope, I can have a drink ordered and delivered faster than you can flag someone down. What would you like?”

  She eyes me skeptically and then says, “What’s your friend drinking, it looks good.”

  Glancing at Scott, I take in the froo froo beverage he’s drinking shamelessly.

  “Pina colada with a strawberry infused lava flow.”

  She lights up. “Sounds good.”

  Of course she would want a froo froo drink.

  “Davies, would you like anything to drink?” I ask interrupting her conversation with Scott. She waves me off.

  “I’ll have whatever this hunk of meat is having.”

  Taking in his diminishing beverage, I ask, “Another drink for you, too, princess?”

  The middle finger that is gripping his drink turns up at me, causing me to chuckle. He nods at me, still engaged in his conversation with Davies. Poor sucker, he’s in for a ride if he’s interested in Davies. Then again, little does Davies know, the man is balls to the walls relationship. He will fork the hell out of you and then spoon you to daylight. Davies doesn’t read as one of those kinds of girls to me.

  Quickly texting in my order, I add another drink for myself and then put my phone down, bringing my attention to Penelope who I just so happen to catch staring at my chest.

  “See something you like?”

  “What?” Her eyes shoot up from my bare skin and to my eyes. Flipping her sunglasses over her eyes, she crosses her hands over her chest again and looks away from me. “Nope, don’t see anything.”

  I can’t help but chuckle, loving the way the vibrations feel in my body. It’s not very often a girl can get me to laugh, but Penelope has that effect on me.

  Wanting her to pay attention to me, I scoot closer and pull on her arm so she’s forced to face me. “Hey now, I’m playing by your rules, why don’t you give me the decency of at least letting me look at that beautiful face of yours?”

  The tension coiling in her body eases slightly at my words. One of her legs bends and lays against the seat cushion as she turns to face me.

  “Fine, this better?”

  “Much,” I smile, scanning her up and down, appreciating how exposed she seems to me now. “So where’s Page? She didn’t want to get free drinks by the pool today?”

  “She’s prepping for a dinner tonight, or else she would have been here. You know all too well how much she enjoys her mimosas.”

  I chuckle. Yup, Page and her mimosas. That’s why I wish she were here, so I could get some more information out of her, knowing full well some free drinks by the pool would do just that.

  But that reminds me, I still have to call Page about my dinner party. If anything, just to fuck with Graham now. That and any excuse to get close to Penelope.

  “Yes, I do love talking to Page when she’s had a few mimosas in her stomach.”

  “I’m sure you do.” I don’t need to see Penelope’s eyes to know she’s rolling them right now. “She’s a pretty blonde, anyone would like that.”

  Picking her hand up, I trace her palm and look directly at her. “I meant, I like when she drinks because she gives me valuable information that, normally, I wouldn’t be privy to. You know, the kind of information that helps me break up dates that should never happen.”

  Lucky for me, Penelope doesn’t take her hand away, she lets me run my fingers along her palm. For some foreign reason, I love the way her skin feels against mine.

  “You ruined that entire date for me, you know that right?”

  “Good,” I smirk. “If you’re looking for me to feel guilty over my actions, I have no remorse. Sorry about that, sweetheart. You and I both know that date was a disaster from the beginning, and do you know why?”

  “Why?” she asks breathlessly, staring at our hands.

  “Because, even though your body was on a date with Nick, your mind was thinking about me the entire time.”

  “Not true,” she answers, one of her fingers grazing mine.

  “Let’s not lie to each other, Penelope.”

  She glances up at me through her sunglasses, tearing her eyes off of our physical connection. “It’s true. You weren’t on my mind the entire time.”

  A smile tugs at the corner of my lips just as our drinks arrive. Penelope scoots back on the chair, removing her hand from my grasp. I immediately feel the loss, it’s a strange feeling for me, but I choose to ignore it.

  “Three lava flows and a Dos Equis.” I flip a twenty from my money clip that’s resting on the table for her tip and thank the server.

  Taking care of the lovebirds next to us, I hand them their drinks only to be rudely ignored. Scott’s going to have the tables turned on him pretty damn quickly once we get out of here. Bringing my attention back to Penelope, I hold out her drink. She reaches for it, but I pull back.

  “Uh uh.” I wave my finger at her. “You have to come a little closer to get this.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding? What do you want me to do? Sit on your lap?”

  “Actually, that would be preferred.” I adjust my seat and make room for her while patting my lap.

  “Not happening,” she bites out.

  Knowing it’s a losing bet anyway, I straddle the lounger again, my feet resting on the ground, I deliberately direct my finger at her in a ‘come hither’ motion. “You can at least come closer. I won’t bite.”

  “Doesn’t mean I can’t still contract an airborne virus from you. Who knows where you’ve been?”

  I hand her the drink and watch her press her gorgeous lips around the straw and suck.

  Fuck. Me.
/>
  “I haven’t been anywhere since I pulled a sexy brunette into the B room for interrogation.”

  Realization cascades over her expression mid-sip, her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. After swallowing, she clears her throat. “Um… that’s nice.”

  I can’t help but laugh at her response. “Not so smooth all the time, are we Penelope?”

  “Never claimed to be.” Her shocked demeanor lightens as she sips some more, taking down her drink faster than I expected.

  Knowing she won’t be sitting on my lap anytime soon, or running her hands up my body, I lift the recline in my lounger, sitting upright, and lean against it, one hand behind my head, the other holding the beer that’s resting on the top of my thigh.

  “So, tell me, how do you like it in the high roller suite so far?”

  She shrugs. “It’s okay. The money is great, the plastics, not so much.”

  I could agree with that. I hated that the players were allowed to bring in their boob brigade. There is no point, it’s simply so they can show off how much money they can drop on the table and how much money they will almost definitely lose. I tried addressing this with Graham a couple of times but it was one rule he wouldn’t let up on. He said one of the privileges of being in the high roller suite was to have an entourage of pussy near you. It was one of the reasons we had so many requests to play at Hotel Paragon. It’s a bullshit reason as far as I’m concerned. Why couldn’t it just be for the game? This is why I barely play anymore. To a lot of people, it’s about the show, not how you play.

  “Why don’t you ever bring anyone with you when you play?” Penelope asks, bringing me out of my thoughts.

  “Don’t need to,” I answer honestly. “Don’t want to.”

  “Why’s that?” She nibbles on her straw, not looking me in the eye.

  “For one, there’s no reason those women should be in the room, they contribute nothing to the game besides being a nuisance. Secondly, why the fuck would I want to bring a woman into the room when the only woman I want is already in there?”

  At my admission she drinks more; long, slurping gulps until her drink bottoms out.