The Game That Breaks Us (13 page)

We reach the garage, and Bennett unlocks his car, opening the passenger door for me. I bend, careful not to step on the longer part of the dress with my heels. That would end in disaster. When I’m inside, he closes the door and jogs around the front. He slides in and starts the car. The dashboard lights up, reminding me of the inside of a cockpit. Not that I really know what that looks like, but I imagine it would be similar to this. 

Bennett pulls out of the garage and I look out the window at the setting sun—a promise that another day is soon to come. 

I’m itching to ask Bennett where he’s taking me, but I keep quiet because a large part of me is scared of what he might say. This whole pushing myself out of my element thing is harder than I thought it would be and I haven’t even done anything yet.

The hour-long car ride is fairly silent between us, with only the sound of the radio filling the small space between us. Usually, Bennett never shuts up, or so I’ve come to learn. 

He parks his car on the street and shuts it off. “We’ll have to walk a few blocks,” he tells me. “Are your feet going to hold up?” He eyes the heels I wear.

I roll my eyes. “Don’t underestimate me.”

He chuckles. “I never do, Princess.”

“Don’t call me that,” I hiss.

He grins. “Does it bother you?”

“Yes,” I say through clenched teeth.

He smiles wider, like the damn Cheshire cat. “All the more reason to call you it.”

“Ugh,” I groan. “Do you
want
me to stab you in the eye with my heel?”

He chuckles and opens the car door. “You’re cute when you’re trying to be threatening.”

I sigh and get out of the car. How is it that guys always think girls are cute when we’re trying to be menacing? Stupidest thing ever. It won’t be so cute when I turn my heels into weapons. 

Bennett comes around to my side and takes my hand. “No one’s around,” I tell him, trying to pull my hand from his.

He only holds on tighter and doesn’t say a word. I groan, but let him have his way. 

After three blocks or so, I can see the club, the line snaking out the door and wrapping around the building. A large sign on the side of the building declares it as VOLT and behind the name, the sign changes colors every few seconds. I can feel the pulse of the music inside and the people on the streets chatter as they wait.

Bennett completely bypasses the line, heading straight for the bouncer.

“Shouldn’t we wait in line?” I point behind me at the outrageously long line. Like seriously, don’t these people have anything better to do on a Friday night?

“They know me here,” Bennett tells me, flashing a quick smile over his shoulder.

I sigh and mumble, “Of course they do,” under my breath.

He stops in front of the bouncer. “Hey, Toby. Mind letting us in?”

Toby?
Such an un-scary name for a guy as large and muscular as he is.

“Go on in,” Toby says in the deepest voice I’ve ever heard. He undoes the rope and lets us pass.

“Ready?” Bennett asks, leading me to the door.

“Yes,” I squeak, when the answer is really
no
. 

He opens the door, and it’s like I’ve been transported to another land. The inside is chaotic, but nicer than I expected. The floors are shiny, almost glittering and not covered in God knows what. The ceiling is a strange crinkly design that looks like foil or something, and it reflects the teal blue lights that strobe the entire place. The bar also glows with the same light. The bartenders run back and forth, taking orders and making them just as fast. The whole middle of the club is full of people dancing, but there are sections branching off of it where people can sit.

“So what’s first on ‘Bennett’s Guide to Being Bad’?” I yell to be heard above the music.

He laughs. “Getting drunk. It’s time for you to experience the glorious world of alcohol, Princess.” He holds tightly to my hand and leads me up a narrow staircase.

“Really? Because it looks like we’re headed
away
from the bar.” 

We reach the top of the stairs and he turns down a hall and opens a door.

The room is open to the club below, but there are dark curtains that can be drawn across if you don’t want to be seen. There’s a large round bed in the center, covered in numerous pillows, and directly in front of the balcony there’s a high-top table with four chairs.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“The VIP section,” he explains, flopping on the bed and making himself at home. “Ah, right on time. Hello, Danicka,” he greets the perky blonde that enters the room with a tray of premade drinks. She looks like she’s melted and poured into her teal dress and her face is covered in way too many layers of makeup—come on, girl, less
is
more. Her fake blonde hair is curled and hangs down to her butt—clearly extensions, and cheap ones from what I can tell. Her boobs nearly spill out of her dress and those are as fake as her blonde hair. 

“I saw you come in,” she says in this breathy porn star voice. She bends down to hand Bennett his drink, making sure he gets an eyeful of her cleavage, and of course, he looks. I can’t help but look down at my own chest. It’s a B cup at best—okay, so more like an A cup. It’s never bothered me before, but suddenly I’m wondering what a guy like Bennett thinks of the little I have to offer. 

Porn Star—that’s what I’m calling her—bats her eyes at Bennett one last time before slowly making her way over to me. She makes sure to sway her hips in a way that Bennett can’t keep his eyes off her ass. “Would you like a drink?” she asks. “I made several. I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

“She’ll take them all,” Bennett says from his perch on the couch. 

Porn Star smiles at me and removes the drinks from her tray, leaving them on the table. 

“Let me know if you need
anything
,” she tells Bennett before she leaves the room.

I shake my head at him and he blinks innocently. “What’d I do?”

“Her, I’m guessing,” I say, picking up one of the drinks. I sniff it and nearly gag.

“You don’t smell it, Princess. You drink it.” He sits up and takes a sip of his own drink, something dark colored on ice. “And I’ve never fucked Danicka.” His brows furrow and he stares into his glass. “That I can recall.”

“Oh, my God, you’re ridiculous.” I take a seat on one of the chairs—no way in hell am I joining him in the bed. I lift the drink to my lips and start to take a sip.

“It’s a shot. You don’t sip it,” he tells me.

I glare at him. “I’m beginning to think you talk incessantly because you like the sound of your own voice.”

“I like everything about me. I’m one of a kind.”

I shake my head. “Your ego must be the size of the Titanic.”

“I actually think it’s closer to the size of the ocean it sank in,” he counters with a grin.

I take a deep breath then and gulp down the shot. It feels like fire on my throat and I cough. “What the hell was that?” My eyes water and I gag. I really hope I don’t throw up, that would only be more ammunition for Bennett to use to make fun of me.

“I believe that was tequila. People usually follow it with a lime, but you took that like a champ.”

“Hardly.” I gasp for air. “That tasted like poison.”

“I’m pretty sure alcohol
is
poison.”

“I don’t know if I can do this.” I eye the five other drinks on the table.

Bennett stands and strides over to the table. He leans his elbows on the table, his glass dangling from his fingertips.

“This is what you wanted,” he reminds me. “Let go. Be someone else for a night. Let your hair down.”

“That’s easier said than done.”

He taps my forehead. “You need to get out of here. You spend too much time in your head overthinking things.”

I look away from him and out on the dance floor. He’s right, and I hate that.

He hands me another drink, and I take it reluctantly. “Bottoms up.” He lifts his own glass in a silent cheers.

I take a deep breath and take the shot.

Then the next.

And another.

There are angry drunks.

Horny drunks.

Loud drunks.

Sad drunks.

Silly drunks.

Happy drunks.

And reckless drunks. 

Grace is a silly drunk. 

“Another!” she declares, slamming her last glass on the table and hiccups, then giggles.

“Nah, I think you’re good,” I tell her, trying not laugh. 

She pouts. “I want more.”

I shake my head. “Maybe later.” More like
never,
but I don’t tell her that. The girl is a lightweight, and there’s no way she’ll be able to stomach anything else and still function. 

“You’re such a fun sucker.” 

I laugh. “I don’t hear that one often.”

She glances down at dance floor. “I’m going to dance.” Before I can blink, she’s up out of her chair, heading for the exit of the VIP room.

“Like hell you are,” I mutter under my breath, storming after her.

When I get to the hall, she’s already gone. I look left and then right so fast that my head probably blurs. How can someone in heels that high walk that fast? It can’t be humanly possible.

“Fuck,” I curse, tearing at my hair. I practically run down the stairs into the club and of-fucking-course she’s disappeared yet again, swallowed whole by the crowd. The chances of me finding her are slim to none, like finding a needle in a haystack. But I never give up, and I’ll burn down the damn haystack if that’s what it takes to find the needle.

I shove my way through the crowd, my eyes searching every person I pass. 

“Dammit, Grace. Where the fuck are you?”

Panic rises inside me and I
never
panic. But the thought that Grace is drunk off her ass and lost in here is killing me. If she gets hurt, or some guy gropes her, it’s my fault.

“Hey, watch where you’re going.” Some beefy ass dude shoves me away. I’m tempted to punch the fucker in the face but I have more important matters at hand. 

I spot a flash of glossy brown hair in a ponytail and grab the girl’s shoulder. “Grace?” She looks up at me, her blue eyes pissed off. I immediately let go. “
Not
Grace.”

I move along the dance floor, but she’s nowhere to be found. I’m beginning to worry that she left, and the thought of her outside wandering the streets alone actually scares me.

I head toward the bar to find Danicka in the hope that maybe she’s seen Grace.

That’s when I finally spot her, leaning over the bar speaking to one of the male bartenders. The guy grins and she throws her head back and laughs.

Oh, hell no.

I storm forward. “What do you think you’re doing, Princess?”

She nearly collapses in my arms. “Bennett, I was just talking to Peter here thanking him for the delicious drinks.”

“Danicka made your drinks, remember?” I tell her, holding onto her waist so she doesn’t fall.

“Ugh, Porn Star, that’s right. I remember now.” She taps her forehead.

“Come on, we’re leaving.” I start to drag her away.

“No,” she cries, pulling out of my arms. “I want to dance. Dance with me, Bennett.”

I lower my head, silently cursing Grace and this whole “Bennett’s Guide to Being Bad” thing.

“Fine. One dance,” I tell her, holding up one finger and wiggling it. 

“Yay!” she cries, bouncing up and down. She all but tackles me, wrapping her thin arms around my neck and hugging me. “Your chest is so hard,” she says in her alcohol-induced haze.

“I thought you wanted to dance,” I remind her, pushing softly against her shoulders.

“Aren’t we dancing?” Her words slur.

“Oh, yeah. Totally dancing.”

“You’re lying.” She pulls away, her eyes glassy. Her pink lips pucker in a frown. “I’m going to go find someone who really wants to dance with me.” She starts to flee into the crowd but I grab her arm and she ricochets back into my chest. She looks up at me with wide doe eyes. “That wasn’t nice.”

I lower my head, my lips skimming her ear. “You wanna dance, Princess? You dance with me.”

Her breath catches, and I swear I can feel her pulse quicken where I grip her wrist. I lead her out onto the dance floor, telling myself that one dance won’t hurt anything. As soon as the song’s over, I’ll haul her drunk ass out of here and call it a job well done.