Touchdown: A Bad Boy Sports Romance (Pass To Win Book 1) (22 page)

My father is adamant with me that until I come to my senses, I can’t spend a dime of the family’s money. The big caveat is that I only have one week to do so or he will disown me. I know my father well enough that I do not take his threat lightly. He cut-off my oldest brother and it has been years since anyone in my family has had contact with him.

I have nothing to claim as my own except what Theresa and I managed to pack into my suitcases. I may not be depending on the kindness of strangers but I am definitely depending on the hospitality of newly-made friends.

I wonder if Xavier is thinking about me? Does he regret cheating on me with Ella? Does he at least regret getting caught and losing me as his future wife? Despite how he betrayed me, I miss him. Or at least, I miss the idea of him. It was comforting to know that my whole life was planned out for me and that the hardest decision I would have to make is what private school my children should attend.

This is a very real and new world I have to face. My friends and family will see me as a traitor. I am someone who threw away the good life for no reason other than misplaced pride and naivety.

At her apartment, Theresa pushes her clothes to one end of the sagging hanger rod and leaves me about a third of the closet. She pulls out some old sheets and blankets and tosses them on the couch for me.

“The few people who have crashed here found the couch to be surprisingly comfortable,” she tells me.

I am so overwhelmed by everything that has happened that I can barely squeeze out a “thank you.”

“Mickey should be at the club by now. You ready for this?’

I take a deep breath to calm my nervous heartbeat.

“Let’s do it,” I say. “Tonight is the first night of the rest of my life.”

C
hapter
8

Ryan

I
am more
than ready for life to return to normal. And when I say normal, I mean
my
normal. Normal for me is sleeping in until almost noon, going to the gym, and then heading to a job that requires me to take my clothes off for a living.

Whatever it was that I experienced with Aria is over and done with. It’s done, not just because I like where I’m at right now. It’s done because there is no way she will ever speak to me again after the way I treated her last night.

Even though I know I behaved like a world-class jerk, I am relieved it’s over. I like to keep my life drama-free and predictable, and it would not be either of those things with Aria in my life. I know it is laughable for a 22-year-old male stripper to expect his life to be normal and void of chaos. But this is what I strive toward and for the most part, I have it. The majority of the women I have sex with never want to think of me again except in their dreams or when they are disappointed in their husbands for not paying attention to them or their needs.

This is the way I like it: simple and straightforward. I am ready to get back to the life I have known and enjoyed for the last five years. Yet, I still can’t help but wonder what happened to Aria after I left her at the bar. Did she find another dancer at the club to make her forget what her fiancé and friend did? What do people who have everything do when their world falls apart?

I have never been close enough to someone who has money and family to know what they do when the going gets tough. Do things ever really get
that
tough when you have people who love you and the security of a flush bank account?

When you live like I did before I moved to New York, and you have nothing, the answer is easy. You keep plugging away because you have no alternative. I can only hope that Aria broke it off with the fiancé and will go back to Texas with her college degree in hand and do something that she loves. Of course, it’s more likely she will stay with the fiancé and spend a couple of years as arm candy before starting a family. Whatever she does, I have a feeling she will be okay. She’s beautiful, rich, and smart, and I am absolutely done thinking about her forever.

People like Theresa and me, we always have to be on our toes because the bottom can fall out and often times, it does. All I have to do is picture my father and mother fighting and then making up over and over and over again. Yes, they stayed married, which is unusual for families that lived the way we did. I don’t think a single one of my friends had both parents around growing up. But staying together isn’t always the best idea if all you manage to do is make each other miserable. When I was a kid, listening to my parents argue through the paper thin trailer walls, I promised myself I would never be anything like them.

I do some pull-ups before hitting the shower. The effort and the sweat feel good. Instead of going to the gym for a workout, I’m going to Central Park for a run. It’s a beautiful day and that means women in spandex will be out running in full force. It surprised me the first time a runner propositioned me in the park. It must be the heady combination of running endorphins and everyone being half-dressed.

I put in five miles and don’t get much of a reaction other than a handful of appreciative looks. This turn of bad luck with women is something I’m not used to. At least not since I began putting in the effort on my body and appearance.

I shake it off, and head back home. There will be more women than I can count fixated on my every movement tonight. All those ladies screaming my name will bring an end to this feeling of unease.

When I get back to the apartment, I crank up the music and strip off my running clothes. I am still slick with sweat from the run and am primed to work on some new moves for tonight. The ladies that are at the club are going to experience a whole new Ryan Temptation.

I told Mickey yesterday to ramp up the marketing because I would be doing a new performance. I want the ladies to come to the club with the express purpose of seeing me dance. I had already talked it over with some of the guys and they are game to do a warm-up act for me that will have the ladies writhing in their seats, and then roll perfectly into my performance. Tonight, I am going to bring one lucky lady up on stage with me and take it to a whole new level.

I am fired up when I arrive at the club and see how packed it is. Mickey really pulled out all the stops. I can hear my name being batted about at some of the tables. It is a direct stroke to my ego and it feels good to be the object of so much admiration and lust.

My warm-up guys, John and Cole, are about to head out on stage and the hum of excitement heightens and ripples through the crowd.

“Temptation, my man, the ladies are going to eat you alive tonight,” John, one of my guys, tells me.

“Yea, especially after we get them hot for you. You’ll be able to knock them down with a couple of quick thrusts when we’re done performing,” Cole says.

“If that were the case, you’d be headlining,” I reply.

All this talk is for the most part good-natured and it helps us get worked up for the show. It’s like a sales guy repeating affirmations in the mirror before hitting the lot with the intention to sell the most expensive car. But dancers give each other shit instead of affirmations, so you go out there with something to prove. Tonight I have something to prove to myself. I need to see that I am back to normal and that I have gotten my feelings toward Aria out of my system.

The lights go down and cheers erupt. It’s so loud that Mickey has to wait forever before he can be heard over the audience, even with his microphone.

“Ladies, I want to thank you all for coming out tonight to
Mantropolis
.”

The women start yelling and whistling again.

“Are you ready to be wowed, to be tantalized, to be aroused by the man of your dreams?”

Mickey is working them to a fever pitch.

“Ladies, I need you to calm down. I don’t want to have to call 9-1-1.”

A hush falls over the crowd.

“Here he is, the one, the only, Ryan Temptation”

The ladies chant my name, “Ryan, Ryan, Ryan,” the music goes on, and I hit the stage. I feel the groove immediately. The women are still chanting and money is raining onto the ground at me feet. I peel off my shirt and reveal my sculpted and tan chest. My fans respond accordingly. I survey the audience, looking for the perfect woman to pull up on stage. And there she is, the perfect woman, and the last person I want to see.

Aria is here at the club, and she is working behind the bar. Is this some kind of sick joke she and Theresa are playing on me?

I don’t know if I’m more surprised by her being here or that she is working a bar. The din of the women shouting for me has receded to a dull roar in the background. Then those haunting blue eyes meet mine across the crowded club and I know I am lost. I don’t even hear the music I am dancing to anymore. I am so distracted that I know I won’t be pulling an audience member up onto the stage. How can I pretend to make love to another woman, when the woman of my dreams is mere feet away and watching me?

For the first time in my career, I don’t want to be up here performing. All I want is to get off the stage and find out what the hell she is doing here.

Theresa definitely has something to do with this. She lives for trouble and would love to see me rattled by Aria working at the club. She is always on me about women and relationships, and how I’m missing out on the best part of life.

It’s lucky I’m good at what I do because at this point, all I’m doing is going through the motions. I can feel the energy leaving the crowd. They came here to see something new from Ryan Temptation and instead they are getting a listless and uninspired performance that will have Mickey putting me on the Sunday afternoon shift.

The worst part of it is that Aria is witness to the entire act. I am like a deer in the headlights beneath her gaze. I do my best to get back into the moment and give all of these women what they came here for. I unzip my jeans and remove them like a snake shedding its skin, slow and sinuous. This gets the crowd going again but it is far from the performance I was hoping for. For the first time since I started dancing, I am grateful when the music ends and I can leave the stage.

I dodge Mickey who is glowering at me. If it weren’t for the fact that he has to save the night and gear the ladies up for the next act, I know he would have chewed me out for my lackluster performance.

I need to talk to Aria and find out what she is doing here. She must have left her fiancé and is either afraid to tell her parents, or they have cut her off. From what she told me the other night, they are very rigid in their beliefs. I gathered that her father is quite ready to play the whole, “I’m going to write you out of the will” card. Did Aria actually walk away from everything? I knew there was something about her that I liked from the get go. A beautiful woman with both pride and principles … a girl like that is a true diamond in the rough.

I plop down on the same stool I did last night. Theresa is making a point of ignoring me, which leaves Aria to take my drink order.

“I’ll have a …”

“Let me guess; a Macallan 18 … no ice,” she interrupts.

She remembers what I like to drink. There may be hope for us yet. Then I remind myself that I’m not interested in hope; I’m interested in getting my life back. But Aria looking incredibly cute behind the bar with her little black apron, and her hair pulled up in a high ponytail, isn’t making it easy on me. All I can think about is what it will look like when I pull the elastic out and it falls in waves down her back.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” I tell her and reach out to take her hand.

She pulls back from me and turns to the bottles behind the bar.

“I’m surprised, but it’s a good surprise. I knew you had it in you,” I persist.

She turns back to me, and the beginnings of a smile hint at the curve of her lips.

“Thank you, Ryan,” she says with a huge smile on her face.

C
hapter
9

Aria

I
know
it shouldn’t matter, but it does. Ryan saying how proud he is of me for trying to make it on my own really means a lot. He is a man who came from nothing and has been surviving on his own since he was seventeen. His respect means a lot to me. Theresa’s support means almost as much. In truth, it might even mean more. I wouldn’t be here at all if it weren’t for her help last night.

Even tonight, when I’m stuck here behind the bar doing cleanup, I feel good about the choice I made. My phone vibrates in my pocket and I pull it out to see that it’s my father calling. I am ashamed of myself for the flicker of hope I feel at the possibility that he has changed his mind. Might he actually let me go back to my apartment until I have a better job and more money saved?

I might even invite Theresa to come and stay with me to pay her back for all the generosity she has shown me.

My father quickly brings an end to my day dreaming like a splash of ice water to my face.

“Aria, have you come to your senses? Are you ready to return to Texas and marry Xavier?”

“Dad, I told you, I caught him with another woman. How can you still want me to marry him?”

“I know you are disappointed in Xavier. I am too. But this behavior is not uncommon in men, and technically you are not married. Xavier will learn to practice discretion and show you proper respect. I spoke about this with him this morning and he agrees with me and is very apologetic about what he did. He has assured me it won’t happen again.”

I am beyond hurt by what my father is saying and also left speechless by the cruelty and disrespect he is showing me.

“Xavier mentioned to me that you were at a male strip club and he was feeling insecure about your commitment to the relationship. This helps explain his actions.”

I can’t remain silent anymore. I won’t have Xavier blaming me for what he did. “It most certainly doesn’t explain anything. You think that my going to a club makes it okay for him to have sex with my best friend? Did he tell you they invited me to join them?”