For Love or Money (3 page)

"Right
away."

Chad
smiles down on me. “I think I love you, Lana."

I
sigh, wondering if I can just do it now, or if I should wait until he will
remember.

Damn.
Even I’m not that heartless. Am I?

Who
am I kidding? I can still make this a top night if I end this shit now. It’s
not like he’s my responsibility. I shake my head. “You don’t love me, Chad. You
don’t even know me.” I want to tell him that Ron, my therapist, thinks no one
does so it’s not his fault. But I don't think he would hear me.

His
face leans in, pressing blood on mine, nearly passing out on top of me. I pull
back, holding him up and am about to fall as the door opens and Henry comes in.
He pauses in the doorway. I assume he’s calculating the impact of his next
choices.

I
roll my eyes. “I didn’t do it. The wind blew something on his head down the
road. He said a flower pot fell on him.”

Henry
sighs, taking Chad into his arms. “Shall we go to the hospital?” Luckily Henry
is a big guy, for a butler.

I
step back, looking at the blood on my hands. “No, you take him. I have some
homework to do.”

Henry’s
eyes narrow, judgingly.

A
pasted smile is my response. I just want Chad gone. The flowerpot isn’t my
fault or my problem. Henry pauses, I think to give me a chance to change my
mind, but I don’t. So he helps Chad out of the room and I close the door,
wrinkling my nose at the stinky cabbage in the microwave.

“Damn!”
My dorm stinks for no reason. I grumble and walk into the bathroom to take my
third shower of the day. I still feel like Lady Macbeth.

The
shower doesn’t change that. In fact, I find my eyes focused on the door I have
closed for the first time in my life. The shampoo stings my eyes because I’m
scared to close them. When I get out I take a few Paxil. My shaking hands
bother me so I clasp them together and take deep breaths.

I
have to open all the windows and flush the cabbage. It’s making me gag. Damned
Chad.

I
am ready to leave the dorm an hour later, feeling better and ready for the
night to start. I smile at Nance and Leo standing in the hallway. “Won’t we be
the most overdressed people in the crowd?”

“As
always.” Leo scoffs. “Just because we have to live on the East Coast, doesn’t
mean we have to be the East Coast.” His father is a real estate tycoon, and
nouveau riche, but his mom is old money from New York. He’s lived in San
Francisco his whole life, until now. His mother and father met here at Harvard,
which explains why he’s here instead of Brown, where he wanted to go.

Nance
slips a small silver locket from her pocket, winks, and stuffs it back inside.
A wide smile crosses my glossed lips. “Oh, it’s that kind of night, is it?”

She
nods. “We saw Chad’s head. We assumed it went badly and decided it should be
this Friday that we tie one on.”

“What?
Henry took him to the hospital, I’m sure he’s fine.”

Leo
starts to snicker. “No, my God. You broke up with a bleeding man?”

“I
didn’t make him bleed!”

Even
Nance gives me a look. “But—but you broke up with him anyway?”

“Yeah!”
I don’t understand their confusion.

Leo
links his arm with mine. “When Dr. Frankenstein made you, he must have
forgotten an important piece of the puzzle.”

They
both laugh but I focus on the white powder that’s going to take away the itch
in my palms and the stress on my brow that’s trying to age me prematurely.
“Whatever, let’s just get this party started.” I need to forget.

The
Harvard Crimson Men’s Soccer is one of the better teams on the East Coast for
Ivy League colleges. We hit the games up late, looking for prey. I hate stands
and bench seating so I don’t ever sit and watch the game. We aren’t here for
that kind of sport anyway. I have watched soccer, and I dated a soccer player
in LA, but I try not to. Soccer and hockey frustrate me.

When
we get to the washrooms, Nance cuts three lines of ecstasy and snorts one with
her rolled bill. She passes to Leo who takes the second line, rubbing his nose
and sniffing afterwards. I take the rolled bill, sighing. “This has been the
longest week ever.” I lean forward and snort the line. We leave the washroom,
giggling and getting ready for it to hit us.

I
can’t wait.

The
stands are filled with screaming fans, all in maroon, crimson, and red, while a
game of some of the roughest soccer I have ever seen is being played. There’s
shoving and whistles and guys shouting on the greens. The crisp air of spring
on this godforsaken coastline makes my breath mist when I sigh. “How much is
left of the game?”

“They
keep blowing the whistle and it will never end.” Leo huddles and mutters. “They
call this spring?”

Nance
laughs. “I know, right? Spring my ass.” Her voice trails off as a girl walks by
us, making Nance eye her up. “She could work.”

A
scowl and pouting lip are my answer. She rolls her bright-blue eyes. “You are
such a baby. Why can’t you just do it? For me? I take it from every guy you
like to make the party even numbered—why can’t you just do one girl?”

“‘Cause
I’m selfish and very hetero, unlike you two.”

Nance
lifts her middle finger from her pocket. “Look what I found.”

We
laugh but I’m not changing my stance about girl-on-girl action.

Nance
is the daughter of a billionaire who has his Republican fingers in every piece
of the puzzle. He’s like Christian Grey but a dad. Oil, real estate, stocks,
whatever. If it makes money, Mr. Hensley is doing it. I have a slight thing for
him. We had an incident when I was eighteen. We crashed at her place at
Christmas, freshman year. He caught me in the kitchen at midnight, munching out
on a coconut cream pie. We started eating the pie together, laughing and
joking. The next thing I knew, he was on his knees and my shorts were pulled to
the side and he was having a slice of me. I have never quite forgotten the feel
of that powerful man between my legs. Nance doesn’t know, clearly, but her dad
is a beast in bed. And for one night, one time, he was mine. I squeeze my
thighs together whenever I think about it.

The
guys on the field interrupt my pervy daydreaming with screaming. The game is
over. My head spins, seeing nothing but a frothing sea of sweaty men in
uniforms and shorts. Hands run through damp hair, pulling it a little. Mouths
part with war cries of victory as they bump their filthy, yet sexy, chests
against each other. “I want a soccer team.”

Nance
gives me a look. “No. Gross. They don’t even know what they’re doing. They’re
children.”

I
block her out, focusing my eyes on the testosterone-laden field. Our boys won,
again. The stands are going crazy but all I see is the thing I want.

Leo
points. “If you can get the team captain, Jackson, or that sexy animal, James,
then I want to be in the viewing seats. I want footage at the least.”

I
follow his finger to James Holland, the James Holland. He’s a bit of a
celebrity and hot in the way you assume the sex is going to be nasty. I cock an
eyebrow and contemplate them all.

Nance
shakes her head. “I heard James is a bit of a lame ass when it comes to
parties. He always leaves early and never gets drunk. He only lets girls go
down on him. He never has sex with anyone.”

Ohhh,
a challenge.

It
makes me smug. “Yup. Soccer boys. They just won. It’ll be fun. It’ll be like
men coming home from war.”

Leo
nods. “I’m positive none of them are my type. Give me ten and I’ll go find the
flavor of ice cream I like.” He winks and stalks off, looking sexy and high.

I
glance at Nance. “Go find the girl to add to it. I’ll get the boys. But I’m not
coming in that room, you’ll just have to take a boy in there with you two.”

“Lucky
him.” A grin crosses her lips. “Meet you out front.”

It’s
our Friday thing. Not every Friday, and not even every second one. It’s random,
but at least once a month, we get a crew and go to the apartment Nance has in
Boston. She doesn’t sleep or do anything else there. We stay on campus in
Cambridge because our fathers have the same opinion of the ‘fraternity’
experience. Nance joined a sorority, but I knew right away, they were not my
kind of people. The apartment makes it easier to throw a nasty party. The way
we like to party is not exactly the same as her sorority sisters on campus.
It’s better to have a place with a dirty bed for those nights.

I
turn and head for the stairs that lead to where the long gray corridor is that
the soccer team will enter from the field. When they do, they’re shouting and
jumping on each other still.

I
let the first couple pass, each of them eyeing me hungrily. They know who I am,
and I’m certain they know what I want. Our parties are legendary.

The
captain, Jackson, passes by me but he doesn't do it for me. I have a feeling
just how normal the sex with him would be.

A
pair of sexy green eyes catch mine as Jackson passes by. I point at Green Eyes,
earning a smile, and I am won over. The sloppy grin means great kissing. Plus
he looks eager to please. That’s what’s important.

I
pass him a card as he walks by me. The guy behind him glares at me, but I can’t
decide if he’s judging or just angry in general? The difference is important.
His eyes flicker about the corridor, angry in every direction.

Mmmm.

I
cock an eyebrow and point at him. He shakes his head. I nod and hold a card
out. He takes it, running his middle finger along my palm roughly.

Shit.
He’s mine. Nance can have Green Eyes.

I
think I know him anyway. I swear our dads are friends and his name is Nick.

I
turn away, going to the stairs again as someone grabs my arm. “What are you
doing?” he spins me around.

I
pull a card and a sly smile. “That grip will get you every kind of fun.” I
smile wider when I see the moody face of James Holland.

He
is a beast—tall and thick and staring down on me with hatred. He actually
makes me swoon a little. There is something twisted inside of me that always
sees moody guys as a challenge. I always want to crack that nut. Not to
mention, his dark-green eyes, olive complexion, dark sandy-blond hair in a
spiky and sweaty mess atop his head.

Yikes.

“Why
are you giving invites to the soccer team? Go prey on the weak-minded football
players or the druggies at a school in town.” His jaw clenches and I can
imagine licking it, biting his neck. I want to hurt him—in a good way.
His touch makes me squirm a bit. The drugs are hitting me. He leans in, looking
into my eyes. “You’re high already? It’s not even dinner time.”

I
laugh, shoving him but he doesn’t move. “Whatever.”

“Your
dad must be so proud of you.”

He
brings my dad up? Awko-taco.

“Oh,
he is.” I snatch the card from his hands. “I’m sure you have some lame-ass
study group to attend anyway.” I turn and walk away, crumpling the card and
dropping it on the ground. Asshole.

When
I get out front, Nance and Leo have their new friends with them. Leo’s is a
sexy guy with dark hair and tanned skin. He is clearly on our team and not from
the East Coast either. He has a beach-boy feel to him, and East Coasters rarely
get color like us West Coasters do. I think he’s more adorable than Leo, which
is a feat. The two would make a hot couple, the kind you want to read about in
M/M novels. They’re my favorite.

Nance
has a gothic-looking girl, her usual type. The girl probably isn’t even gay,
and she probably doesn’t even know where we’re going. Somehow Nance will
convince her the college experience is a fun one. She’s a master for a ditzy
blonde. She smiles when she sees me. “I sent the message out to the usual
suspects. It’s going to rock.” She pulls her date into the limo waiting for us.

I
climb in, sending Henry a text about the two boys I need picked up, as per the
instructions on the cards I gave them. It’s his favorite part of the
job—not.

The
apartment is a penthouse in an older area that has been redeveloped on the West
End. Nance’s dad got in early and bought the whole building off the developer,
selling each unit off for a massive profit after the renovation was done.

When
we get there, the elevator door doesn’t stop dinging. I hurry to the bar to set
up the shots but Leo shoves me out of the way. “We got this, you go turn on
some music.”

His
friend scowls. “You’re going to trust a girl with music?”

Leo
laughs, hitting me in the arm. “No wrist-cutter tunes.”

“Why
does everyone keep saying that to me? I don’t cut. Freaks.” I turn and walk to
the stereo. I crank a Justin Beiber song and point at Leo. “This one’s for you,
baby-baby-baby.”

He
groans and I change it to Icona Pop, the band I was going to pick before he got
all ‘mean girl’ on me.

The
music pumps but we don’t worry about the sound traveling through the floor.
When Nance’s dad bought the building, we secretly created a fake company and
bought the entire floor under us with my dad’s money. He still has no idea.