Page 1 of For the Boys
Chapter One
Brent
Sweat slid down his cheeks and dripped off the edge of his jaw, landing on his naked chest and mingling with the perspiration already running from his pecs down the ridges of his abs. He moved faster, pushing harder and harder until he was on the verge of bursting.
Only then, when his quads burned and his lungs screamed for air, did he slow his pace to a walk, letting his heart rate return to normal before getting off the treadmill.
Despite essentially being on vacation from work, the members of the Warriors hockey team needed to maintain a regular exercise routine. Being a professional athlete was hard work, and getting a paycheck every season depended heavily on being in peak physical shape.
It was something they all took seriously, but none more so than Brent Jean.
As a hockey player, naturally he’d much rather skate. Unfortunately, because it was the beginning of August, there was no ice to be found anywhere in the city. One would think that Detroit, as the home of one of the oldest franchises in all of professional hockey, would have a year-round rink set up, but apparently it was too expensive.
Brent snorted.Too expensive. He and his teammates would willingly cover the extra cost if it meant they had usable ice during the off-season. Especially since those months fell during the summertime, when the cool air of the rink would be a nice break from the heat and humidity.
But that wasn’t a possibility, so he was forced to perform his least favorite act of cardio: running.
Brent threw a towel around his neck and chugged half of his water bottle, leaving the training room to head to the locker room, where the bulk of his teammates were in various stages of undress.
Reaching his stall, he dropped onto his stool and stripped off his shoes and socks, then stood and shucked his shorts. Tying a towel around his waist, he prepared to hit the showers before heading home.
As he made his way across the locker room, his teammate, Mitch Frambough, called out to him, “Jean, what’re you doing tonight?”
Brent groaned, knowing where this line of questioning was heading. “I have a date with my couch andCriminal Mindson Netflix. Why?”
“Because me and some of the boys are going to The Backdoor,” Mitch said, dropping his towel and stepping into his boxers. “And you’re coming. You haven’t been out with the team all summer. It’s time we bonded.”
Cole Reid walked up to join them. “And don’t think we forgot your birthday is this weekend. We have to celebrate.”
Brent groaned again. “I’m only turning twenty-nine,” he said. “That’s hardly worth celebrating.”
“All of your birthdays are worth celebrating, Jean,” Mitch said, giving him a doe-eyed look worthy of a rom-com heroine.
“I hate you,” Brent said.
“Plus, it’s time we corrupt the rookies and new guys!”
“Mitch, the rookies are barely old enough to vote, let alone drink.” Brent started toward the shower stalls again.
“Okay, fair,” Mitch said, raising his hands up in surrender. “But still. I think you should come out. Plus, that girl you’re too afraid to talk to will probably be there. Maybe you can tell her it’s your birthday and finally get some action.”
Brent stopped in his tracks, knowing exactly who he was referring to. “Getting some action” wasn’t his first thought when it came to the girl in question.
He wanted to meet her, for starters.
He turned slowly to Mitch, whose face broke into a giant grin. He knew Brent couldn’t refuse now.
“Fine,” Brent relented. “But if she’s not, I’m leaving early.”
“Deal.”
On any normal Thursday, Friday, or Saturday night, The Backdoor was busy. They served cheap drinks and had a dance floor presided over by a DJ who favored bass-heavy remixes. It was the perfect music for grinding on strangers. Not that Brent ever did that. The dance floor was more Mitch’s domain. Brent preferred to spectate.
This, however, was no ordinary Friday night. Fall classes at Wayne State and the University of Detroit Mercy kicked off in a few weeks, so all the students were coming back to town, reuniting with friends they hadn’t seen in months and blowing off some steam before they hunkered down for the semester.
There were tons of other bars in the city Brent and his teammates could have gone to. Places that were far fancier and not filled with college kids—both guys and girls—who fell all over them in an effort to get an autograph, a picture, or free tickets to a game. Every time they went to The Backdoor, Brent asked himselfwhy. Why did they continue to put themselves through this?
To be fair, he used to love this place. It was the perfect spot to meet women who wanted nothing more from him than his body, a commodity he was all too willing to provide. He had never been particularly discriminating when it came to his sexual partners. The beauty of being Brent Jean was that he could have his pick of just about any female in the bar.
