Page 24 of Players Love Hard
I inform the bouncer we’re part of the competition, and he leads our group through the crowded club. It’s an old warehouse converted into a large, open room with long wooden bars on each side and stairs which lead to the VIP area.
After we say our goodbyes to the men, Bex and Taylor walk next to me behind the bouncer. We navigate a narrow hallway, moving to the right to allow girls with trays of drinks to pass. The bouncer stops in front of a red door at the end of the hall and pushes it open to reveal the dressing room. Girls in short skirts and tank tops flock to the mirrored dressing tables. They take turns applying makeup and fixing their hair.
Some girls walk around in their panties and no bra. The bouncer stares at the naked girls, holding out his hand for me to enter the room, his eyes not leaving the girls. Already irritated, I blow past him. Bex reads my mind and slams the door in his face.
The bass thumps through the club, and even in the dressing room, the music vibrates beneath my five-inch heels. Girls gather in front of a long row of vanities, forced to share with each other. On nights like these, when the entire Greek community comes together, the claws come out. Two girls are already fighting over the last can of hairspray.
“One minute,” a woman yells from the corner of the room with a clipboard in her hand. “Let’s go, ladies.”
A minute later we’re ushered inside the club where girls are dancing inside cages suspended from the vaulted ceiling. To win the contest, we have to dance on top of a long mahogany bar at the center of the club. Everyone can see us as we climb onto the bar.
“No touching!” the bouncer yells at a guy who tries to grab Taylor’s leg.
Holding on to the pole in front of her, she shakes him off. The bouncer grips him by his shirt and pushes him further into the crowd surrounding us.
I slide my hand down the metal pole. It’s slick with sweat, the bar wet from drinks spilled on the wood. The announcer says a few words, and then the DJ’s beat fills the club, causing the room to come to life. The people below us are dancing and drinking, grinding on each other as we work the poles.
Abby and Jordan came up with our choreographed routine. It’s the same ass-shaking bullshit they force us to do every time. I love to dance. When I cook, I sing and dance, which is why I want to name my bakery Shake-and-Cake. But dancing on bars isn’t the same. This is stupid and degrading.
I sway my hips from side to side, following the lead of my sisters. The song is almost over, so close to the finish line, when a girl in our group trips and falls forward. She tumbles into the arms of a tall, dark-haired guy I recognize—Preston Parker.
Shit, I think when I see Bex in front of him.
She just cost us the prize, and for that, Abby will have my head. I glance down the bar at Abby, who has an angry scowl plastered on her face. She orders the rest of us to finish the song, pretending as if Bex didn’t kill our shot at winning. My sisters and Taylor do as she says, even though we know it’s over.
Once the song ends, another group exits the dressing room to take our places. We’re expected to hop down from the bar, thrown into the mass of people who are now reaching for us. Strange fingers slide down my arms, and I cringe from the feeling of their skin against mine.
Eventually, I hit a wall, my hands landing on a man’s chiseled chest, rock hard from his bulging muscles. Staring up at him, I smile when I look into his eyes.
Jamie’s expression mirrors mine. “You were awesome,” he says. “And you looked fucking hot.” He takes my hand and rubs it over the front of his jeans to feel his bulge. “This is what you do to me, Shan.”
“Still thinking with the wrong head,” I quip.
“When you’re wearing this,” he says, fingering the thin strap of my skimpy tank top that rides up my stomach. “How can I think with any other head?” His eyes fall over my body to my bare thighs and the tiny spandex shorts which are barely covering my ass.
Taylor taps me on the shoulder. “Hey, where did Bex go? Have you seen her?”
I scan the crowded club, searching the space where Bex and Preston were a minute ago. Turning to face her, I shake my head. “They were just here.”
“Probably went back to the house,” Jamie says.
Taylor looks annoyed. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah,” he says without hesitation.
“Did Bex say something to you?”
Jamie shakes his head. “No, I know Preston. We have a signal.”
Taylor’s face scrunches in anger. “But we came here together…”
Drake appears at her side and clamps his big hand on her shoulder, his enormous frame invading the surrounding space. “I can take you home.”
Taylor shakes him off, staring up at Drake as if he has a disease. Do they have a history together? She seems awfully annoyed with him. Or maybe it’s the fact her friend bailed on her without another thought. I would be mad too.
“I can Uber it back to campus,” Taylor says to Drake.
“Don’t be stupid,” he says. “I can drive you.”
