I can't believe Trent talked me into going out tonight—on a Monday of all nights. I may not know what he has planned, but I have a pretty good idea about what he wants us to do. If he's planning on finding us a willing woman to have a threesome tonight, usually, I'd be excited about it, but I'm not.

Trent may have been the one to teach Callum and me the right way to have threesomes, so this may be what I need to go back to who I was last week, but who am I kidding? How will that work when I can't seem to get what my grandmother is looking for from me before she leaves this world out of my mind? I've always done what she's asked of me, especially since she took my sisters and me in after our parents were killed. But this one. This is one huge request I'm having a hard time with.

After losing my parents, I wanted to be the one to help her with everything she needed help with—raising my sisters, helping my grandmother with chores, buying groceries, helping with the cooking, cleaning, shit like that, and of course, taking her and her friends to play bingo whenever they're itching to get out of the nursing home for a few hours.

Now, I'm caught between a rock and a hard place. And it's driving me up the wall.

I want to please the closest person to me, but after Sloane fucking broke me with what she said. How she handled the situation humiliating me when I asked her to be my girlfriend in front of God and everyone else. I just can't seem to want to ask another woman out—fearing it'll happen again.

At least by having meaningless sex, threesomes, and more with women who aren't looking for a relationship, I never have to worry about my heart fucking breaking ever again.

I've asked myself numerous times throughout the years what advantage I would have if I fell in love with someone if love was never guaranteed. There's always a chance of them finding someone else to love and leaving me hanging, wondering why, what did I do?

I also feel they could do what Sloane did and make a fool out of me by saying hurtful things and mocking me for something she didn't like. They could also put me down because they think that's what they must do to make them feel better about themselves.

There are so many things I'm afraid of a woman doing that would push me over the edge. For twenty goddamn long years, I've repeatedly replayed in my mind what Sloane said to me. The humored look on her face, the shitty, evil smirk, the laughs from the students surrounding us that heard it all, and the amused look on her friends' faces as she put me down.

I never saw what she'd do and say to me coming.

Ever

And that's something I don't think I'll ever forget.

Do I like not having a girl in my life? Yes and no. Yes, because I don't have to worry about a fucking thing. The only girls I genuinely need are my sisters and grandmother. However, there have been times I felt having a woman I could call mine would be nice to have. I wouldn't have been alone at all the weddings I attended, especially the last few years when all my friends married, leaving Trent and me of the clan single.

Sitting at a table with my friends and their wives is also hard whenever we get together to shoot the shit. And I think that's why I left with Angela the other night, knowing it was wrong of me to do.

Surprisingly, I was jealous.

I'm never jealous, and I blame my grandmother for causing me to feel that way about what my friends have.

As I waited for Trent to arrive, I sorted through my mail, throwing away the annoying waste of junk mail and putting the bills aside. While sorting through a week's worth of mail that I'd ignored, I came across something that seemed like a card.

Confused that someone would send me a card since my birthday wasn't another few months, I slid my finger through the seal, opening and removing what was inside. It wasn't a card. It was an invitation to attend my high school's twentieth reunion. A reunion that wasn't supposed to be for another two years.

Fuck that.

I didn't attend my tenth or fifteenth, so why would I attend an early twentieth high school reunion? There's nobody I care to see or want to see. The only people from high school I want to see, I see all the time.

Despite my disdain about attending my high school reunion, instead of tossing the invitation into the garbage, my dumbass sauntered over to the refrigerator, where I attached the invite to it—to remind me of what I won't be attending in two weeks.

Although, it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to go to, to show all those fuckfaces that laughed at me I'm no longer that skinny fucking kid they enjoyed making fun of and boast to them all how they made me the best fucking plastic surgeon nationwide.

I shook that thought out of my head. I'm not going to a fucking reunion.

No way.

Trent: Sorry, I'm running behind. But I'll be there in five minutes. Be ready!

Fuck. Is this what I want to do with Trent tonight?

The only answer I can come up with is yes.

Fuck me...

Me: I'm ready.

I stood in my living room, slowly spinning around, looking at how empty and quiet my home was, imagining what it would be like to say if there was a girl in my life: hey, I'm going out, don't wait up for me. Or if I had kids and had to say, kids, it's late, go to sleep!

Yeah, I don't see the future my grandmother wants me to have.

All I see is a whole lot of nothing.

Just me, myself, and I.

Hearing Trent honking outside, I grabbed my keys and phone off the counter and headed to his brand-spanking-new Corvette, checking it out as I headed toward it.

Lucky fucking bastard.

"When did you get this?" I asked while closing the door.

A smile tugged at his lips as he shifted into reverse. "Last week." He faced me, proudly smiling, while asking, "What do you think?"

I returned the smile, enthusiastically saying, "It's lit as fuck. Have you buried the speedometer yet?"

His head snapped my way, his eyebrows pinched together. "What kind of person do you think I am? Of course, I buried it. And it was fucking awesome."

Trent must've read my mind because once we got on the highway, my head flew back when he pressed his foot hard on the throttle, flooring it and burying the needle.

He laughed, I laughed, and the cop that flew up behind us with his cherries on sure as fuck wasn't laughing.

"You're fucked now, homeboy," I teased as Trent slowed down to pull to the side of the road.

He reached across me, opened the glove box, and removed his paperwork and insurance card. "I'm not worried." He looked at me and grinned. "Watch and learn..."

Trent buzzed down his window when the officer tapped on it. Then the cop peered his head around, looked at Trent, then me, and I couldn't help what came out of my mouth. It just flew from my lips. "Wazzup..."

His gaze quickly returned to Trent, asking, "Do you know why I pulled you over?"

"You wanted my phone number?"

"Try again."

Trent shrugged. "Because it's the end of the month, and you haven't met your ticket quota."

The cop shook his head.

"To give me your autograph?"

Jesus Christ.

"No," the cop groaned.

"If you forgot, then I'm not reminding you."

"You really think you're funny, don't you?"

I faced the window and covered my face when Trent responded, "I don't think I am. I know I'm funny. Anyway, back to why you pulled me over. Is it because of the unregistered handgun in my glove box, the pound of weed hidden under my driver's seat, and the dead body in my trunk, officer?"

What the fuck, Trent.

"Or is it because you wanted to invite us to dinner?"

Fucking asshole.

The last place I want to be tonight is in fucking jail.

Trent chuckled after the officer cleared his throat, annoyed.

"Now that I've got your attention, have you accepted Jesus Christ as your personal lord and savior? If you haven't, I suggest you do."

I facepalmed. Trent just keeps digging himself into a bigger hole.

"Apparently, you haven't. Do you mind stepping out of the vehicle?" the officer returned.

Here we go...

What an idiot. And here, I always thought I was the buffoon.

"Good going, Trent," I groaned. "You're paying for my fucking bail money, asshole."

He laughed.

He fucking laughed at my remark.

"Don't worry, buddy, I've got it handled." He reached over and shoved me. "You've got nothing to worry about. I've got this. Trust me."

Christ.

We're going to fucking jail.

I turned around to see what was happening after Trent got out of his car, but couldn't see shit. They were standing in my blind spot.

In a panic, feeling Trent was getting us in trouble with the law, I quickly grabbed my phone and texted Callum.

Me: If your brother gets arrested, I'll need you to pick my ass up. But if we both get arrested, I'll need you to bail me out.

Callum: Why, what are you guys doing? Where are you at?

Me: The fucker was showing off how fast his Corvette can go. He's been fucking with the cop ever since we got pulled over.

Callum: LMAO! Are you sweating your balls off?

Me: Yeah, you would be too! The asshole asked if the reason he pulled us over was to invite us over for dinner. Trent also told him he had an unregistered handgun in his glove box, a pound of weed in the car, and a dead body in the trunk. And more! What the fuck is wrong with him?

Callum: LMFAO!

Me: I'm glad you think it's funny. It's not.

Callum: Relax, Aaron. Guaren-fucking-teed the cop is Deacon McBright. You remember him, don't you?

Deacon McBright? Who the fuck is that?

McBright.

McBright.

McBright.

Deacon?

Never heard of him.

Me: No.

Callum: Electra's brother.

Fucking Trent.

I didn't know his name. I've only met Electra's brother a couple of times. So I somewhat know who he is; I'd just never be able to pick him out of a lineup since I don't know him, know him.

Callum: Are you still shitting bricks? What are you guys up to, anyway?

Me: Yes, I sure the fuck am. And I have no fucking clue. Trent never told me.

All I know is if this isn't who Callum thinks it is, and if we get arrested, I'll never talk to this fucker ever again.

Trent opened the door with a massive shit-eating grin playing on his fucking lips as if he was proud to have been pulled over. And when he sat in the seat, he faced me.

Still fucking smiling.

"Ready to have some fun?"

I looked behind me, saw the officer getting in his vehicle, then faced Trent. "Are we free to leave?"

"Of course we are."

"No ticket? No jail time? No, nothing?"

He laughed. "I told you not to worry."

Callum must've been right.

"So, was that Deacon McBride?"

Trent shook his head. "No. I'm surprised you know who Deacon is."

"I don't. Callum mentioned his name. If that wasn't who Callum assumed it was, who was it then?"

Trent returned to the highway, still grinning, saying, "He's a regular that sees Electra. So, I bribed him, saying that if he didn't want Deacon to know who he sees three times a week, he let me go with a warning."

I was so sure, by the look on that cop's face, that Trent was getting arrested for talking to him the way he was.

What a lucky son of a bitch.

"You're fucking lucky, Trent, you know that? What would you have done had it been someone you didn't know?"

He laughed. "First of all. I wouldn't have fucked with him right off the bat. Secondly, you should know by now that I can talk my way out of certain things. And tickets are one of them."

I forgot how much of a smooth talker he was. Something Callum is good at doing as well when he isn't saying things to Eloise to rile her up.

"Where are you bringing me, anyway?"

He snapped his head my way, smiling like the devil he was. "You'll see."

This was a bad idea to hang out with him tonight. I should have told Trent no. Because of the area we're in and the direction he's heading, I'm pretty sure I know exactly where he's going. And if he's bringing me to where I think he is, I hope I don't embarrass myself like I did the other night.

***

I fucking knew it.

He brought me to the underground gentleman's club, which is more like a den of vice—just fancier, cleaner, and private. Similar to Trent's club, the same rules are applied when supplying current test results, but this club includes strippers, poker tables, pool tables, blackjack tables, and more.

All the things we guys enjoy doing.

"Do you feel like playing a game of pool?"

I shrugged. "Sure."

"Why don't you set us up, and I'll get our drinks?"

I checked out the woman dancing on stage as I headed to the pool tables. Like always, when I found an open table, my eyes scanned the room, looking for that one woman worth having a night of fun with.

For a Monday night, the club was surprisingly busy.

I'm not sure what Trent has in mind. If he was looking for a hookup for us, or if it was just an innocent night of fun, shooting the shit. Knowing Trent, he's got an alternative motive for tonight, hoping to convince me to confess about what happened the other night, or both.

While racking the pool balls, Trent handed me my whiskey. "So, how do you want to do this?"

"Do what?" I asked, organizing the balls.

He brought his scotch up to his mouth, looking at me over the brim of his glass, saying, "Best out of three gets to choose our reward?"

I knew he had an agenda up his sleeve, and his reward remark could either mean my confession, woman, or women.

Curious what he had in mind, I asked, "What kind of reward?"

His grin curved up even higher. "That's up to the winner."

Great. I better not fuck this up because I don't feel like doing anything other than playing a game of pool while watching the strippers on stage perform their act.

All this whining my mind's been doing lately makes me feel like a fucking pussy. And it's pissing me off.

This is not me. I'm stronger than this.

Much stronger.

But fuck. When you've got one of your best friends on your ass about finding "the one" and a grandmother wanting the same thing. My mind refuses to think of anything else.

"Anything, huh..." I muttered. "And what do you have in mind if you win?"

He winked above his side smirk as he chalked up his cue stick. "I think you know."

Yeah, I do. But that can mean anything.

Whatever.

Trent placed the cue ball where he wanted it and leaned over the table while resting the cue stick between his thumb and pointer finger, sliding it back and forth until he found the spot to hit.

And fuck me... he pocketed the eight ball on the break. "Motherfucker!"

He laughed. "It's been a while since I've done that." He leaned over my shoulder, enthusiastically saying, "I guess it's because I want to win the reward."

Fuck me. That means I've got to win this next round if I want to stay in the game. But who am I kidding? Trent is exactly like Callum. When there's something they want, they make sure to get what that is. And they win every fucking time.

While chalking up my cue stick, I noticed the mischievous look in Trent's eye. And now I know why.

Just as I was ramming the stick forward to hit the cue ball, a brunette playing at the table in front of us, wearing the skimpiest dress, bent over and flashed me a view of her uncovered ass and pussy, causing the tip of my stick to go over the ball.

Trent laughed. "What was that?"

Fucker. He would know. And I should've known he was up to no good when I saw him talking to her after he racked up the balls.

"Asshole. You're playing fucking dirty," I groaned, taking a seat. "You better not fucking sink the eight ball on the break again."

He stood, grinning like the asshole he was, saying, "I'm playing to win, brotha." He winked. "Not my fault, you choked. You could've done exactly what I did, but no. You let a view of delicious goods interrupt your train of thought."

Thankfully, when Trent broke the balls, he only sank a few of them—a solid and two stripes. While he rounded the table, contemplating his next move, my dick came alive when I glanced over at the brunette who fucked with me, licking her lips while eyeing me.

She was oozing sex appeal—desirable, luscious, bodacious, and alluring. Long hair, chocolate-colored eyes, high cheekbones, a button nose, and fire-red lined lips that would look fantastic wrapped around my dick.

Her breasts were also perfectly sized for my hands to enjoy, and she had curves my eyes, mouth, and hands loved devouring.

I must've been eyeing the stunning brunette longer than I thought, because the next thing I heard was Trent admitting to what I figured he was up to.

"Are you going to play to win a night with her, or are you going to just fuck that woman with your eyes instead?"

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bad influence?"

He chuckled, proudly saying, "All the time." He shoved me toward the pool table. "Now, get to work. Your balls are in my way."

I carefully studied each ball on the table, seeing what Trent left me to work with—looking at all the angles and wondering which ball to hit first that would open the way for my cleaning the table and winning this round.

"Choose wisely," Trent taunted, humor in his voice.

Which tells me he's learned to become a pool shark and purposely fucked up to make it look like he's just an average pool player like me, giving me a chance to beat him.

"Yeah, yeah," I groaned, seeing I had a shot to sink the one-and-seven ball into the middle and corner pockets.

And I did, but where I wanted the cue ball to end, it didn't quite go where I wanted it, behind his thirteen ball, and leaving me no fucking shot whatsoever.

"Now you're fucked," he quipped. "You have no shot," he warned. Well, he tried to, anyway.

I've played pool long enough to know how to do some tricks. One of the tricks I've learned and have mastered was jumping the ball and getting it to go where I want it to.

"Be careful, Rhodes. You miss—the tables, mine," Trent warned, a massive smile on his face.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Trent's finger pointing my way and his eye on the brunette who fucked with me earlier, urging her to do something that would cause me to screw up the shot he knew I was about to do.

Fuck that. I'm not looking.

Nope.

But that's not what I did. When I leaned down and eyed the spot on the ball I wanted to hit, the brunette's breasts fell out of her top when she bent over to take her shot, causing me to hit the cue ball normally and sink Trent's ball into a pocket after looking at her tits instead of the ball.

"Thanks for the help!" Trent quipped, standing. "Now, all it'll take is for me to drop the fifteen and eight ball. You're fucked, my friend." He patted my back. "So fucked."

Fuck.

It looks like we're having a threesome party with the brunette tonight.

"You're such a fucking cheater. I saw you egging her on, getting her to do something to mess with me."

He sank his ball into a pocket, and when he headed to the other side of the table, his eyes found me, and then he winked. "If you want me to miss and give you another shot, I suggest you tell me what happened Saturday night."

And there it is. It was only a matter of time until Trent admitted what he was looking to get out of me tonight.

I angrily aimed my finger at him. "You're an asshole."

"It's not the first time I've been told that. Tell me something I don't know," Trent said, grinning as he lowered to the table, getting ready to beat my ass.

Fuck it. I might as well just get what I'm keeping from him over with. "Fine," I hissed, standing to my feet. "You want to know?" I said, heading to the table, wanting to avoid everyone surrounding us hearing my issue. "I walked out of a good time with a few women the other night."

His eyes shot up to mine. "What do you mean, you walked out on a few women?"

"I ended a fivesome before it went further than what already took place, okay? Are you happy now?"

"So you walked away and came to my club to see Electra."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because I did. Now, will you drop it?"

He studied me for a minute, then lowered his eyes to the cue ball, ramming his stick to it and sinking the eight ball in the corner pocket.

"Is it because Callum and the others are putting shit in your head that you need to be like them now?" he asked, snapping his fingers and pointing to our empty glasses when a waitress walked by.

Try my grandma.

"No. Although Rory did have something to do with my bolting from those women the other night. And before you ask why, it was because one of the women I was about to please was a patient of mine."

"If she were hot, I would've still tapped into her."

"I know you would've. That's just you. And I don't have the kind of money you have if I were to be sued."

"That, my friend," he grinned. "Is when you have them sign an NDA before doing anything fun like that. It's the smartest thing to do." Then he shrugged. "And if you really want to be smart, tell them you're recording the entire rendezvous, so they stay true to their word. You can never be too careful," he added, flashing me a wink.

I had a feeling what he was going to say next and shot my eyes over to the brunette playing a game with a different dude. Instead of her eyes on the table or the guy she was competing against, they were on me and Trent.

Which tells me Trent's already spoken to her—she's just waiting for her cue to walk us to an available room.

"I'll tell you what," Trent said, returning my eyes to him. "I'll rack up the balls, and we'll play the next game fair and square. The winner of this game chooses our reward."

I noticed how he said our instead of their, confirming what I figured he was up to. So, what he's saying is the winner gets to choose the woman we get to have fun with.

Trent's always had a thing for redheads, so that tells me even more that this night had absolutely nothing to do with him wetting his dick. This was all for me... which also means he knew what happened before he came to my office this morning. He just wanted to be sure it wasn't my friends or his brother that put the marriage shit in my head.

"Why didn't you just tell me you knew what happened?"

"Who said I knew?" he asked, trying to stop his lip from twitching.

"Your face did. You're setting me up to see if I'd do it again."

He playfully cocked a brow. "Would I do that?"

"Yes."

He pointed at the table. "Break the damn balls so we can break this spell your grandmother placed on you."

I fucking knew it. He got Electra to spill the beans.

"And as for that chic who wronged you back in high school," he added as I lowered to the table. "That was so long ago. Stop allowing what she said to you to control your thoughts and actions. As for your grandma? If marriage isn't what you want, then you need to be upfront with her."

I stood, planting my stick to the ground as I turned to him. "Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"You're pushing forty. Would you ever consider getting married?"

A hint of a smile appeared on his lips. "If the right one came along, sure. I'd think about it. But I'm not going to go out looking for her."

"And kids? Would you ever consider having them at the age you are?"

He shrugged, wobbling his head from side to side as he hemmed and hawed. "Maybe. It's not a priority of mine, though. If it happens, it happens. But I'm not going to purposely knock someone up just because it's what someone close to me wants," he hinted. "Even if it were Callum telling me I needed to have kids so his can have a cousin to play with, I'd tell him, no way. So, since I'm not in that predicament right now, I won't think about it. What I'm thinking about is us finishing this game so we can have the fun I was hoping to give you tonight. Now break those damn balls."

Well, just as I thought. Trent's a pool shark. Even though he didn't cheat this round, he cleared the table after I choked on the break. All the balls did was scatter around the table, setting him up to win.

And he did.

He also chose the brunette to lead us to a room. And that just confirmed he knew she'd be the one I'd choose for us to have fun with. This also says he figured out the type of women I like, as did Rocky—curvy, average-breasted brunettes.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter!!