A-List F*ck Club: Part 2 Read online

  Collette’s eyes sparkle, the make-up artists lean in, all wanting juicy bits of gossip.

  Me? I lean back in my chair, looking at my phone, debating whether or not calling Cal tonight is the cool thing to do.

  I’ve never cared about being cool before. I shouldn’t start now.

  I want to see him.

  Soon.

  It’s only Friday and I don’t think I can wait until our date on Monday.

  I think I need to go to the Fuck Club and let him know I want more than dinner and a movie.

  I need to let him know that I want him again, tonight. At the club.

  The idea in and of itself sends a wave of unease through me. Why would I consider this after what just happened to Gretchen?

  But I’m not Gretchen, and Callahan is certainly not a guy like Sawyer. I trust that Cal wouldn’t lead me somewhere that might be compromising. Which may make me an idiot. I hardly know Callahan at all. One night is not very much.

  Yet our time together felt like so much more.

  And even with all the red flags of returning, my body already craves more of what it had last night.

  Him.

  Looking over at my roommates I ask as nonchalantly as possible, “Want to go back to the club tonight?”

  They shriek in delight.

  Tana finishes my lipstick and I look in the mirror.

  It’s bright red.

  I won’t be washing that off anytime soon.

  Tonight, Cal can kiss it off.

  And then some.

  “Tana,” I say. “Do you think after the photo shoot you could give me smoky eyes?”

  She smiles wide. “Only if you let me dress you too, the blue jeans and basic white tee you wore in here need to be thrown in the garbage.”

  “Deal,” I tell her. “Tonight I want to look like walking sex.”

  Gretchen laughs in shock. “What happened to you?”

  “Besides getting laid for the first time in her life?” Collette asks.

  I shrug, taking the string bikini I’m to wear for the shoot from the woman from wardrobe. “I told you I wasn’t a prude—I just needed to meet a guy I wanted.”

  “And you found him?” Tana asks.

  I smile. “I think so.”

  3

  After calling Sawyer half a dozen times, there’s still no answer. I’m not trying to harp on him or anything, but I also want to make sure he’s okay.

  Those photos were more than incriminating.

  I can just hear his parents, Sophia and Henry, lamenting their son’s choices. If Sawyer is of the Hollywood Elite, his parents are a different sort of HE: The Highest Echelon. My parents were their best friends and Sawyer and I grew up thick as thieves.

  So, I can just imagine Sophia’s reaction. “Our little Sawyer has forgotten every good thing we’ve taught him.”

  In some ways, I don’t envy him that. With my parents having passed, there aren’t the same kind of expectations on me as there are on him. No one asks when I’m settling down, if I’ve had my share as a playboy. No one, that is, besides Sawyer’s mother whenever she’s in town.

  That idea allows me to relax for the first time since I said goodbye to Jules in the early hours of the morning. I’m betting the reason Sawyer isn’t answering my calls is because he’s busy dealing with his old lady.

  Not to mention his agent, publicist, and Sondra.

  “Hey, man,” I say, leaving him a voicemail. “Just wanted to make sure you hadn’t spiraled out. I bet you’re dealing with all kinds of shit, but if you need to talk, call me. Or better yet, come to the club tonight. It’s the last place anyone would expect to find you. Talk soon.”

  I pocket my phone and head to the bar. Once everything’s prepped for tonight, I pull out my laptop, discreetly checking the evening guest list that Jordan sent over. I’m surprised to see Danny’s girls, Gretchen, Collette, and Jules all listed.

  I frown. One, Gretchen coming here after today’s magazine spread is a bold move. The last thing we need here is paparazzi following her out tonight, getting eyes on the club. I sure as fuck hope Jordan made it crystal clear that no one is to come with an entourage.

  Two, I can’t deny the unsettled feeling I have at seeing Jules’ name on this list. She made it pretty damn clear how she felt about this place, the people here, what it represented—in her mind.

  The fact she decided to come out for the second night in a row forces me to consider Jordan’s words from earlier.

  Can I trust her?

  She said she hated this place and then less than a day later she’s back? It doesn’t exactly add up.

  Unless she wants a piece of the attention Gretchen’s clearly going to receive tonight.

  I message Jordan, making sure we have even more security around the premises tonight. Checking my watch, I see it’s after nine. People will start showing up in an hour or so. We can’t have a repeat of last night, no matter what.

  Jordan wants to close the doors tonight... but that’s the last thing I want to do. Those thugs that were here last night will think we’re weak, and whoever took the photographs will think they won… something. Exactly what, I’m not sure.

  Hours pass and I haven’t seen Danny Bruneau’s girls. Truth is, now that I know they’re on the guest list, I can’t help but feel agitated. Why is Jules coming? I’d text her, but we made plans for Monday. After exchanging a few texts earlier after she sent me the link to the photographs, it’s not like I’m gonna start stalking her about her plans tonight. Besides, I’m just a bartender. I shouldn’t even have access to things like the guest list.

  Danny’s sitting on a couch nursing his vodka soda, looking sad as fuck, and I almost consider going over and asking about his sick wife, when his girls show.

  Jordan isn’t giving them an easy time, and I wish I were a little closer so I could hear what they’re saying. With his arms crossed, he looks leery of the trio of supermodels. I have to give him some credit. Most men would fall on their face with three women this gorgeous in front of them.

  I see Jules shake her head, incredulous. Then she reaches into her purse and hands him her phone. Frowning, she walks away dropping her coat off at the check.

  That’s when I see her in all her glory. Her long dark hair swishing as she walks. Her lips bright red, her eyes smoky—with a fire behind them; a plan. Last time she was here she wore a nondescript mini-dress... but now everyone notices her. Sheer black lace, a corset underneath that pushes her breasts high, her heels covered in gems, every step across the room a glittering announcement of her arrival.

  Damn, she looks like she knows exactly who she is, and how she got here. When she leans over and gives Danny a hug and kiss on the cheek, I swear I see her ass cheeks too. My cock gets hard, imagining what I could do with her.

  But some other men get to her first. I mix drinks for the waitresses and try to focus on making a dirty martini. But the only dirty thing I want is her.

  Now.

  Jordan walks over to me, speaking low. “We have backup outside, we saw the Russian Mob’s cars circling earlier, but I haven’t seen them for the last half-hour. And the Bruneau girls played by the rules I gave them. They arrived without any fanfare—not sure how they pulled that off.”

  “And I saw you confiscated Jules’ phone?”

  Jordan shakes his head. “No, she gave it to me when I asked what part she played in the leaked photos.”

  “Do you believe her?” I don’t know if I should trust Jordan—but I have to ask the question. Have to know what his read is on her. In fact, it might tell me where he stands.

  He runs his hand over his jaw. “Look, I don’t know. I wish I did. It makes me feel like shit, not knowing who took those photos. This club is my life, Cal.”

  I nod, wanting to keep the conversation on the down low as another waitress comes over for the tray of drinks I made.

  “You ever think about coming clean, Cal?” Jordan asks once the girl has left. “You really see your
self behind the bar forever?”

  I take a hard look at him. “You know the thugs from last night wanted to know who the owner wwas. Now you want me to out myself? What the fuck?”

  Jordan’s eyes narrow. “That’s not what I meant, Cal. I swear it.”

  I don’t fucking care what he meant. Everything about this day has gone wrong. From Jules leaving early this morning to the leaked photos––and then Sawyer going MIA. I don’t know who to trust when it feels like everyone is against me. Every time I think about the fact that Sawyer hasn’t returned my calls since I left him at the bar, I get a little more anxious. Hell, I know he’s a grown-ass man, but when shit gets real, he usually spirals out pretty damn fast. He drinks and does his best to black out.

  Right now, with the shit going down at the club, I can’t lose my best friend to a week-long binge.

  I look across the club, see Jules. Her eyes have already found mine.

  She lifts an eyebrow, tilts her head to the side, cocked toward a hall filled with a bank of doors. Private rooms.

  I know what I need right now, more than anything else.

  “Look, get that waitress—Lindy, I think her name is—to come make drinks for the next hour. She’s a trained bartender—she’ll be able to handle it. I need to go fucking clear my head.” I pour myself a shot of top-shelf tequila and down it. Then another. Jordan eyes me warily the whole time. “I’ll be in my private room if anyone needs me. But I goddamned hope you make sure no one does. Understood?”

  Jordan nods, then speaking in his headset he calls for Lindy. “Anything else, Cal?”

  “Get Jules to my room in one piece.”

  Without saying another fucking word, I weave through the crowd of people. The club is pumping tonight, the DJ’s spinning beats and bodies grind on the dance floor. But I have no interest in this room. No interest in the dancers moving up and down the stripper pole in pasties and G-strings. No interest in any of it. At least nothing out in the front of the club.

  I want something behind closed doors.

  I want Jules.

  Even if she is playing me. Right now I want to get lost in her bronzed skin and long lashes. I want to get lost in her body and be found twelve inches deep in her pussy.

  4

  I watch Cal leave the bar. My eyes narrow as I try to understand where he's gone. I want him here, I want to keep looking at him across the room. At the way his biceps flex as he mixes martinis. The way his eyes keep scanning the room, his eyes landing on mine. Every part of my body is primed for what comes next.

  My heart, though... I’d be lying if I didn’t say it was trembling.

  It was one thing to let Tana do my hair and make-up, find me this see-through slip to wear, it was another thing to slip into a private town car with my roommates and come to the club, seeing Callahan here—that’s something else entirely. That is real. The rest, what came before, that was make-believe.

  Gretchen and Colette are debating whether or not Sawyer will be here tonight. I shake my head at them, wondering why they are so unaware of how the scandal might have actually affected Sawyer Bennett. My job isn’t to parent them, I’m supposed to be their friend. The one who wanted to come out tonight.

  And besides, I don’t know enough of the business to talk shop. The moment Danny, our agent, hears the name Sawyer dropped, he leans in, taking a sip of his vodka soda, and asks Gretchen if she thinks she could spend the night with him again. I turn my shoulders away from them and glance at the bar, wanting to see if Cal is there.

  I’m not expecting Jordan, the manager and the person who gave me such a hard time when I entered the club this evening, to come over and motion for me to follow him. I frown, standing up from the sunken couch. I look over my shoulder at my roommates and shrug. Pulling down my dress, I go where Jordan leads. As we stride through the club, we pass one of the real housewives of Orange County unzipping the front of her dress and exposing her breasts to a man who used to star on a sitcom when I was a kid. A few feet farther on, we cross last season’s bachelor from the TV show. Everyone here belongs.

  And by the looks of things, I belong here too.

  This dress I wear, my perfectly coiffed hair, and my nearly-bare body about to grace the cover of Sports Illustrated––everything about my appearance says I should be an honorary member of this club as much as anyone else.

  But inside?

  Inside I feel like a fake. A fraud. I feel like a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Minus the sharp teeth. Truth is, I don’t bite. Looking around this room of celebrities, it seems like the person with the sharpest fangs is most likely the person who is going to win.

  I don’t need to win though. All I need is enough cash to bail out my family farm. Getting that second mortgage was a bad idea, but I understand that my daddy was between a rock and hard place. When I was in high school, Mom got sick, she needed chemo and radiation, and it was all out of pocket since her and Daddy lapsed on their premiums. I try not to get all political about healthcare costs and treating the sick––but the truth is, it’s a mess.

  My dad’s mom—Grandma—has always lived with us, but she’s getting old, her multiple sclerosis causes her so much pain, and she deserves better treatment—better everything.

  She had her son young, and then he and my mom had me young. Three generations under 60 living under one roof.

  Grandma isn’t getting better, and I want to save the farm that means so very much to her. She was born there, raised her son there, and that son raised me there. Losing the property will be like losing ourselves.

  I can’t let it happen.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “Just follow me,” Jordan says when we get to a quieter place. It’s so dark here under this archway though, it’s hard to see his eyes. And I wish I could because I’ve always thought eyes told a story words couldn’t.

  “If you're trying to get me to leave the club, just ask.”

  At this, Jordan leans closer. “Look, I have no reason to trust you, and right now, I don’t trust anyone. I only do as my boss tells me. And right now, my boss is telling me to bring you to his see employee in room 24.”

  I pull back at his words, recoiling at the thought. I am getting sent to a man in a private room—because Jordan’s boss requested it.

  “What the hell? I’m not a prostitute,” I tell him, seething.

  “I never said you were.” Jordan sighs. “Look, the bartender, Cal, has an hour off and wanted to know if you’d join him. Not trying to be intense here. If you don’t want to come it’s fine, I’ll tell him you had other engagements. Alright?”

  He looks so honest, standing here with his hands raised in defeat. Honestly, he looks like he’s seen better days, and I imagine as the manager of this club, today has been a living hell.

  “I don’t have other engagements, Jordan. Mostly because you took my phone,” I tease, trying to lighten the mood.

  “You can have your phone back. Honestly, you’re the one who practically forced me to take it.” Jordan reaches into his pocket and hands me my phone. “Cal trusts you, and Cal’s one of the best guys I know. I want to trust you too. It’s just, shady shit went down last night, and the last thing this club needs is more of it.”

  I nod, understanding that at least a little bit. I don’t want to get caught up in any tabloid shit storm either. I’m going to endure enough flack from the folks back home with my practically naked body on the cover of a magazine. I don’t need to a sex scandal to boot.

  “Cal is in room 24. He’s waiting for you,” Jordan tells me, smiling out of the side of his mouth. “Don’t break his heart, okay?”

  I may have considered Jordan a slime ball when I first met him, but he talks well about Callahan and doesn’t seem like he has any ill intention toward either of us. I lean in and kiss Jordan’s cheek, before sashaying down the hallway toward the man who is waiting for me.

  5

  The moment Jules walks into the room, I know my night has just gone fr
om bad to glorious. She smiles coyly, and she may be a girl from the cornfields of Indiana, but she caught on pretty damn quickly how to slink around the room looking like a goddess.

  “You asked for me?” she says, stepping toward me. The lights are low in here, casting a soft glow about the room, but this room was made especially for me. And what happens inside of it can’t be seen by anyone else.

  Unless that is, we want to let our kink flag fly.

  Otherwise, we can keep the room as it is, there’s a black velvet couch, BSDM gear hanging on the wall, an armoire filled with satin panties and silky lingerie.

  Those things are fine, sweet, and innocent even. But I like more than sweet. And I want to see if Jules does too.

  This club wasn’t nicknamed the Fuck Club for no reason.

  There’s a perfectly good reason. A perfectly hot one too.

  “So,” Jules says. “This is one of the infamous sex rooms at the club?” Running her hand along the velvet curtain, she picks up a feather boa and lets it rest on her shoulders. Walking toward me, she wraps the boa around my neck playing the part of a sex queen, not a woman who's just lost her virginity twenty-four hours ago.

  “You seem pretty comfortable in here,” I tell her. “Honestly, I was pretty damn shocked to see you here at all. Why did you come?”

  Jules licks her lips, pouty and perfect. “I came here because I couldn’t imagine waiting until Monday to see you again.”

  “But I thought you said you hated this club, and everything it stands for?”

  “Maybe I just didn’t understand this club,” she says.

  “Even after the press released those photos today? I thought you’d run away, scared.”

  “And where would I run to, Callahan?” She blinks slowly, her thick lashes brushing against her cheek. “The only place I wanted to run was into your arms.”

  My cock stiffens, her words exactly what I want to hear, but I can’t help but wonder if they are true. Is she playing me? It doesn’t seem likely that she went from innocent virgin to vixen overnight.