“Hi.”
“Thought I’d give you two some time.” His eyes veer to Brad, who is currently cuddled next to Bayli.
I’d never know that he was so serious a moment ago based on how he’s now singing obnoxiously in her ear. She pushes him with her hand, laughing at his antics. As good as it is to see Brad happy, I can’t help the nagging feeling that he’s lying to himself and everyone else.
“Thanks. Do you mind if we go?” My eyes scan the bar, and I spot Dylan’s fingers flowing over Bea’s tattoos while she’s trying to inch her body closer to his.
“No. You know me. This isn’t really my kind of place.” He laughs, and I don’t.
“Thanks.” I walk over to tell Bea when Tanner approaches Curtis.
“What do you say? You play pool, Curtis? Or billiards as you’d call it,” Tanner mimics his best snooty rich person accent, but it comes off British instead.
I lightly shake my head.
“Yeah, I play.” Curtis straightens his back a little.
“Great. I’ll rack.”
“Actually, we were leaving.” I grab Curtis’s hand, but his feet remain planted.
“Just one game.” Curtis tilts his head, non-verbally asking permission.
“Come on, Piper. One game. You want to play. We can play Cutthroat?”
It’s the game I’ve played enough in my lifetime with Tanner and Brad.
“No, thanks.” I take a seat at the table next to Bea.
Curtis grabs a stick, and Tanner racks the balls.
“Shit, this night just got interesting.” Dylan swivels in his stool and slaps his knee. When he turns to me, he gives me the classic wink of the McCain boys. “Did they wager anything?” he whispers.
Before I can answer, Tanner screams over to Curtis, “You want to make a bet?”
Curtis’s eyes frantically set on me. He better realize this isn’t some sixties movie where I’m the prize.
“Friendly, of course,” Tanner clarifies.
My stomach knots within itself.
“What kind of game would it be if we didn’t have something to lose?” Curtis’s cocky side appears.
I should probably warn him that Tanner knows his way around a pool table. He’s been playing since he was six.
“My kind of guy.” Tanner smiles.
Curtis chuckles, most likely thinking he found his way in to win Tanner over. “One hundred?” Curtis digs his wallet out of his pocket, opening the billfold area.
“Money’s good, but I was thinking something a little different.”
“What do you have in mind?” Curtis asks.
Tanner peers over to me, and his hand rubs along his face.
Shit.
Judging from Tanner’s mannerisms, pure evil is flowing through his mind.
“What about winner picks a charity?” he asks.
Curtis tucks his wallet away in his pocket. “Perfect.” He smiles.
Dylan cracks up, and Tanner smirks over to me, confirming there’s more to this than Tanner’s leading on.
“I’ll tell you what. You break.” Tanner steps away from the table, spinning the triangular rack in his hands.
“Thank you.” Curtis places the blue chalk on the tip of his pool stick and positions it across the felt. Allowing it to run through his fingers a few times, he hammers the stick to the white cue ball.
With the click of the balls, the game starts.
fifteen
“I DON’T THINK IT’S A necessity to walk the check to the charity,” Curtis says to Tanner from the passenger seat.
I dissect Tanner’s mannerisms from the backseat of his rental car because there’s something off with this whole situation.
After Curtis lost at pool last night—four times—he’s been more high-strung than usual. I begged him to stop at double or nothing, but he pushed a too-pleased Tanner into best out of five. Tanner did his usual tactic of letting his opponent win once just to keep them interested.
The consequence of Curtis’s actions is the three of us in a car on our way to deliver a check to Tanner’s favorite charity.
“I’m in agreement with Curtis, Tanner.”
Tanner glances in the rearview mirror and then back to the road. “I won, my rules.”
I lean back in my seat, refraining from arguing. It will do me no good because the one thing Tanner won’t ever change is his bullheadedness. Instead of wasting my breath, I might as well wait and see what he has in store.
“That’s mature. What are you? Ten?” Curtis glares at him.
Tanner laughs. “If you’d beat me at pool, you wouldn’t be here. Don’t be a sore loser.”
“I’m not a sore loser.” Ironically, Curtis sounds like the ten-year-old now.
“Hmm . . .” Tanner glances at me through the mirror again.
I cross my arms over my chest in a huff and try to focus on the new developments of Marlowe out the window.
“We’re here.” He pulls over to park on the street.
When I read the sign, my heart melts.
“Washington Court? You want me to give my money to an”—his face inches closer to the window—“athletic club?” The disdain in Curtis’s tone isn’t missed.
I cock my head behind him, wondering why he feels they aren’t worth his money.
“This isn’t really a charity, is it, Tanner?” I ask.
“Don’t worry. You know how I love surprises.” Tanner winks at me through the mirror.
Curtis opens the passenger door. “Let’s just get this over with.”
“Your boyfriend is touchy today.” Tanner turns around in his seat.
Narrowing my eyes, I remain silent, my hand on the door handle.
“Or is it every day?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he climbs out of the car, meeting Curtis on the sidewalk.
The two of them weave around one another, each wanting to hold the door open for me. Reluctantly, Curtis allows Tanner to do it, but then Curtis ushers me through before he follows right behind me.
The lobby is nostalgic. The windows lined to the right overlook the weight section. The sound of bouncing basketballs echoes up to the front desk area from the court below.
“With the opening of a door, we’re back in high school,” Tanner says to me and we share a smile.
“No changes at all,” I remark, taking in every aspect of my second home during high school.
“You used to come here?” Curtis asks, his eyes slowly moving over the lobby.
Tanner slaps him on the back. “This was the place when we were younger, a regular Saturday hangout.” He rocks back on his heels, looking Curtis up and down. “Well, for us athletes. Did you play a sport, Curtis?”
“Tennis,” Curtis states proudly.
“And golf?” Tanner nonchalantly raises his shoulders.
“Yes.” Curtis nods, still proud, until he notices Tanner’s smirk.
“Let it go, Tanner.” I say.
He chuckles. “What? I like golf.”
He holds his hands up, but I can predict what’s crowding his brain.
“Typical country club sports—I get it. Gotta go with what you know, right, Curtis?” Instead of waiting for a rebuttal, Tanner walks over to the counter.
“What’s his deal? I’m ready to call CBS and tell them what an ass he is.” Curtis swings his arm around my shoulders and tugs me closer. His possessive move only confirms that he isn’t blind to why Tanner is an ass to him.
“I don’t know.” I’m not going to have this conversation.
After a small back and forth talk with the girl behind the counter, Tanner walks over, rubbing his palms together. “Ready?” he asks.
Curtis’s hand goes for his back pocket.
Tanner raises his hand to stop him. “We have to go downstairs.”
I scrunch my eyes at Tanner. The only things downstairs are the pool and tennis courts. All the administrative offices are currently surrounding us. His cocky grin appears before he turns around and walks down the hallway.
“Welcome to Washington Court Athletic Club. Thank you for your time,” the girl says from behind her desk.