Senior Year Box Set

“… and I had to sit next to some condescending jackass who claimed to be like twelfth in line for the British throne.”

“Lord Harry Smyth?” I asked.

“You know him?”

“Yeah. Unbeknownst to me, I spent the day and night with his fiancée. It’s a big scandal,” I admitted.

She looked at me like she didn’t believe me, so I told her to do a quick Google search on me. She began to laugh.

“You are in so much trouble. When your mom sees this, you’re dead for going to a club,” she said, sounding way too happy. Then she shifted gears entirely. “I can’t wait until I see Lord Ass-hat today. Before we left last night, we drew for seats at the table, and he’s at mine.”

“We were all planning to come watch you play today.”

“That would be perfect. I’ll not say anything to the idiot. I want to see his face when I give you a big kiss at the break.”

It sounded like Ashley wasn’t beyond tweaking her opponent at a card table. If it had been almost anyone else, I might have had a problem with what she planned. In this case, I had no problem at all, simply because he’d shown himself to be such a loathsome person.

If Lord Ass-hat was an example of what the upper crust in the UK was all about, as the press seemed to imply, I wanted no part of that group. There’s a valid saying that you are the company you keep. I didn’t need people like him in my life, nor did I want to ever be like him.

“Make sure Paul is close by in case he decides to take a swing at me,” I said half-seriously.

“He’s a bully. As far as I’m concerned, taking him down a notch wouldn’t hurt him in the least.”

“What place are you in?” I asked.

“Eleventh. The problem is, three of my opponents have huge chip stacks. It’ll be hard to overtake them,” Ashley admitted.

Little Megan came out of her bedroom and looked at me curiously.

“You just getting home?”

“I’m going to bed. You can fill her in,” I told Ashley.

◊◊◊

I couldn’t have been asleep for more than a moment when I felt someone crawl into bed with me. My mystery bedmate wrapped me in a hug. From the feel of her body, and her bare breasts against my back, I figured out it was Cindy. She kissed the back of my neck.

“Leave me alone,” I moaned. “I need my sleep.”

“Okay, go back to sleep.”

She gently massaged my chest, and her hand began to work its way south. My traitorous member started to stand up and try to convince the big brain that sleep was overrated. For once, I had to agree with him. I rolled over and looked Cindy in the eyes.

“Why does this seem like a bad idea? Is Kevin lurking outside the door, hoping for a threesome?” I asked.

“No. They all decided to go to the casino to watch Ashley play.”

“Does Kevin know what you planned?” I asked. “I only ask because I already pissed off one guy this morning and don’t want to do it again.”

“Even if I hadn’t told Kevin, he would be okay with us being together. Kevin is the polar opposite of you,” Cindy assured me.

“I just don’t want to do anything behind his back,” I reasoned.

“Kevin would very much like you to do me in front of him,” Cindy teased.

I just groaned. I’d discovered that Megan liked to watch. And Kevin seemed to be obsessed with watching me have sex with his girlfriend. Between the two, I had to wonder if I shouldn’t plan to do Cindy in the living room for everyone’s entertainment. What was it that Tami always said? My first idea was probably wrong? She would be right on that one.

“You realize that if you get off, it’ll be easier to get back to sleep,” Cindy said innocently.

“Who could argue with that?” I asked the universe.

I guess I really was a slut. Cindy was also right. I had no trouble getting back to sleep.

◊◊◊

The time difference saved me from my mother’s wrath for the morning. I finally rolled out of bed at noon, and I was starving. Looking out the front window, I waved at all the paparazzi waiting for me to come out. I had to leave the house to eat because we hadn’t bothered to buy any food, so I would have to face that mob soon.

Rather than face them alone, I sent a text to Paul to come to get me. The casino would work fine for grabbing a bite to eat. Then I called Frank, my publicist. I did a quick calculation in my head and figured it was probably three in the morning in LA. I considered it payback for him calling me in the middle of the night.

When the phone answered, I heard a distant curse. Frank must have knocked it off the nightstand.

“You’re a real jerk,” he said when he answered.

“I have to go out, and the paparazzi are out there waiting. What should I tell them?” I asked.

“Let me clear my head a little,” Frank said and sighed. “Did you know she was engaged?”

“I honestly didn’t. I mean, I did know Harry was engaged, but not who to. He’s in Monte Carlo for his friend’s bachelor party. The girls showed up when the groom drunk-dialed his fiancée and made a fool of himself. I simply assumed that Erika is part of the wedding party and not engaged to Harry.”

“Hell, tell them that. The truth is always better than getting caught in a lie,” he advised.