Page 5 of For the Boys
Jake shrugged. “Just saying.”
The GM Renaissance Center, nicknamed the Ren Cen, was a group of seven connected skyscrapers in downtown Detroit, owned by General Motors as its world headquarters. It had remained the tallest building in Michigan since its construction in 1977, and the hotel—the Detroit Marriott, which was located in the central tower—was the second-tallest all-hotel skyscraper in the Western Hemisphere.
Brent had stayed there a few times in college while playing for the Spartans. It was an incredibly nice hotel, so he knew the girls would be comfortable there.
It was shortly after midnight when they pulled up to the valet lane. A block away, the Detroit River rushed past, the lights of the city sparkling on its waves, the Ambassador Bridge a beacon in the distance.
Brent unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to look at Cole and Parker. “You guys stay here. I’m going to run up and book the room real quick.”
His teammates nodded, turning to check on the girls. All three were still out cold.
Brent walked inside and pulled his hat low on his head, thankful he had chosen to wear one tonight. He got in the elevator and took it a few stories up to the main lobby and front desk of the hotel. The bar and restaurant that also occupied the space was closed for the night, and only one woman stood behind the front desk. Brent walked up to her, noting from the tag pinned to her shirt that her name was Melanie.
“Hello, Melanie,” he said, forcing cheerfulness into his tone. “I’d like to get a room, please.”
Melanie looked up at him. “Sure,” she said slowly. “Although it’s awfully late, and our rooms don’t come cheap.”
Brent fished his black American Express card from his wallet, slapping it down on the counter in front of her. “I think I can handle it.”
Melanie picked up his card and read the name. “Brent Jean?” She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
Brent was ready for this reaction, and his ID quickly followed his credit card. He took his hat off, fluffing his flattened hair. Melanie picked up his ID, eyes darting back and forth between the photo and the man standing before her.
“Damn, it really is you.”
Brent tried to smile but was afraid it came off more as a grimace. “In the flesh. And being that I really am me, I have a small favor to ask of you. First, some backstory.”
Brent laid out the incident for her, then told her, “All three of them are missing their purses. One of them is even missing her shoes. Two of my teammates are downstairs with them in the cab. I swear, all we want to do is put them to bed and leave.”
Melanie looked unconvinced but started tapping away at her computer anyway. A few minutes later, Brent was holding a keycard to a suite—the only one they had available, according to Melanie—in his hand. He tucked his credit card and ID back into his wallet and crossed the lobby to the elevator.
When he got back down to the car, Jake, Cole, and Parker were all standing outside laughing about something. They stopped when Brent reappeared.
“Got the room,” he said, flashing the keycard. “Let’s go.”
Luckily there wasn’t anyone around to question why they were toting three unconscious women up to a room in the middle of the night. The last thing they needed was a media outlet catching wind of this and blowing it all out of proportion.
They made it up to the room on the forty-fourth floor without incident. Brent positioned the tiny blonde over his shoulder, grateful she was wearing shorts, barely able to ignore the fact that her perfect ass was inches from his face, and keyed open the door.
Brent snorted, and Cole shot him a questioning look.
“Just funny how I finally got close enough to talk to her and she can’t talk back,” Brent said.
“Oh my God,” Cole said. “I didn’t even realize that was her until just now!”
“What’s going on?” Parker said, carrying the other blonde through the door. It slammed shut behind him, and all three men flinched and froze, waiting for a reaction from the girls. When there was none, Brent moved into the bedroom, gently setting the girl down on the bed.
“This,” Brent said, gesturing to the woman he’d been carrying, “is the girl I’ve been too afraid to talk to for months now.”
“Holy shit,” Parker said. “What are the chances?”
“Pretty slim, honestly.” He looked down to study her face, which was slack with sleep. Her lips were slightly parted, the bottom fuller than the top, and she had an adorable little button nose. He briefly wondered if her eyebrows were naturally darker than her hair. Mascara streaked down her cheeks and flaked under her eyes. Her blonde hair, a tangled mess, fanned out around her on the bed, and her clothes were rumpled. He didn’t even know her, but he guessed she would throw a fit if she knew he’d seen her like this, so he turned away.
“I wish we knew their names,” Brent said. “You know, so we could check up on them later.”
Cole nodded in agreement, then looked down to study the three girls sprawled out on the king-sized bed. “Wait, did anyone think to check their shorts for their IDs?”
“Well, no…” Brent started, ready to tell Cole he didn’t feel comfortable rifling around in the clothing of three passed-out women. Parker, apparently, had no such qualms, and started digging into the other blonde’s front pockets, coming up with an ID and bundle of crumpled money.
