Blitz (Emerald City/Black Family Saga Book 1) (3 page)

I’ve never been much of a partier, considering the way I grew up and all. With a preacher father and a strict mother I pretty much always had my toe on the line. Even in college I spent most of the time in my dorm. But, weighing my options, spending the night rubbing elbows with the elite, is better than listening to my aunt bitch about my career any day.
 

The worst part about all of this is that she was on board with Reese Clarke. It took some convincing but after she got to know the woman she came to see just how valuable of an asset she was. And more importantly how much she actually cares about my well being.
 

Then the accident happened and all my plans went straight to hell. Aunt Sheila started taking Willie Mahr’s calls and Miss Clarke was out of the picture. It doesn’t seem right and not only because she’s not around to defend herself, but because I know for a fact that a few short years ago, Mahr didn’t believe I was capable of half of the plays I pulled off in college. Now here I am, the number one pick and all of a sudden he believes in me. Miss Clarke always believed in me. Even when I didn’t believe in my damn self. Even when Mom told me it was a waste of time to aspire to be an entertainer. That I should become a lawyer or a doctor. Or even a pharmacist like my mother. But Miss Clarke knew I was destined for something big. Which is why ignoring the memory of her encouragement and signing with another agent while she’s stuck in a hospital bed seems so wrong.
 

My phone chimes and I reach over to the passenger’s seat to scoop it up.
 

Where are you, man? You’re killing me.

Another reason I showed up to this thing—my roommate and long-time teammate, Jimmy. We played together in high school and were lucky enough to both end up on the college team. After a seven-year friendship, me about to be drafted and him about to take off to California for a new job, I’ve decided it’s better to spend as much time with him as possible. Even if it means agreeing to do something I’d rather not.

Just parking. I respond. See you in a few.

Well hurry up, molasses. If I have to watch another chick in a tight-ass skirt walk by me and through that door I’m gonna scream.

I tuck my phone in the pocket of my blazer and let out a heavy sigh. It’s going to be long night, especially with that guy. Jimmy’s like my brother. The only guy other than my dad that I can relate to in anyway. The only one who really knows me and the only one whose mission in life is to break me out of my so-called shell—the one I apparently clam up in, keeping all the women at bay. And tonight he plans to accomplish that mission. A challenge he expects me to either get on board with or finally admit the intense feelings I have for him.
 

I laugh, shaking my head as I throw the door open. The thing Jimmy doesn’t realize is that as well as he knows me, he has no idea what kind of woman I need in my life. I don’t have a problems talking to girls. I never have. I’ve also enjoyed the occasional make-out session and a hook-up in college that still blows my mind. But that’s not what I want.
 

I’m not interested in the girl who will throw herself at me just because of how I look. Or offer herself up on a platter because she’d do anything for a football player. I don’t even want the type who plays hard to get until you finally get it and she’s suddenly the one you can imagine playing the lead role in Misery (Jimmy’s words, not mine).
 

The kind of girl I need probably doesn’t even exist. Because someone who’s beautiful, funny, smart, tough and brazen enough to put me in my place once in a while, would probably find the fact that I consider that attractive a complete turn-off. Girls these days seem to want men who run the show and that’s just not me, I couldn’t even play that part if I tried. Yep, I’m the proverbial nice guy. The one girls run from the second they smell any sign of weakness. And I’ve got a lot of those—weaknesses. Too many to count.

I shove my hands in my pockets and meander toward The Rainier. I’m a lot of things, but definitely not a private club kind of guy.
 
I don’t even appreciate the idea of someone else taking the keys to my car. They’re much safer in my back pocket.
 

Jimmy is shifting back and forth on his feet in front of the oversized gingerbread house. The brick building towers above him and before me practically taunting me.
 

“Don’t look so ill.” Jimmy slaps me on the back. “This going to be…” He scoffs a laugh and pats me hard on the back again. “I will love you forever after tonight, my man. Forever.”

“Let’s just get this over with.”

The inside is everything I could expect of a rapper’s private birthday party. Well, not everything, if I’m being truthful. There are tables at every corner, overflowing with drinks and hors d'oeuvres. Servers at every turn, all dressed in black and red. Music pumping. But as far as the guests are concerned, I actually didn’t expect it to be this tame. I’d imagined something out of a music video.
 

But from the penguin suits to the elegant floor-dusting gowns, it kind of feels like I just walked into the opera. And if it weren’t for the sounds of Justice himself coming through the speakers, I might actually believe I did.
 

A woman in a red tie and black dress so tight it looks painted on holds a tray of wine glasses in front of us. I refuse while Jimmy picks up two.
 

“Starting early?” I ask.

He grins and holds up one of the glasses. “The first woman I see with empty hands is getting this in one and me on the opposite arm.”

“Ambitious.”

“Realistic. This kind of party is designed for just that kind of thing. Why do you think there’s no plus-one? You’re supposed to find her here.”

“Aren’t you my plus one?” I ask with a laugh.

Jimmy narrows his eyes, the golden hue darkening slightly. “Whatever man.”

I nudge him as we make our way inside. The moment we do it begins. The wider than necessary smiles, the pats on the back from total strangers. And that look from just about every girl I dare to make eye contact with. The bitten bottom lip, fluttering eyelashes, winks, and even a few arm grazes.
 

I eye a dark corner and quickly note it as my hang out spot for the night. But just as we’re about to make our way to the back of the room, a redhead appears from out of nowhere. She sashays toward me, her green eyes studying my every move. Jimmy mumbles something under his breath and for reasons I can’t explain my legs stop moving.
 

It’s almost like there’s a spotlight on her, like every move she makes is foreshadowed by the one before and accentuated by the one that follows. Her ample chest spills out of the low neck of her tight dress and with every step I actually find it hard to look away. Before I know it, she’s standing beside me. The woman slides an arm around my waist and a hand on my chest. Except for matching jewelry, lips, fingernails and a hint of lace barely covering what I still can’t avoid glancing at every few seconds, she’s clad in black. A dress that slits so high up the side I can see her curve of her ass.

“Welcome to the party.”
 

Her crimson stained lips press against my cheek and I clear my throat, doing my best to maintain eye contact.

“Uh, thanks.”

“I’m Dina.”

“Nice to meet you, Dina.”

“I’m so happy you made it out tonight, StingRay Carlson. Rumor has it you’re a little bit of a party-pooper but, I don’t know…” Her gaze trails across the length of my body. “I find it very hard to believe you could do anything but brighten things up. Especially with those eyes…” She bites her lip. “And that smile.”

Jimmy shifts on his feet beside me and I take the opportunity to detangle myself from her grip. “This is my best friend, James Tripper. He played at UDub with me.”

“Right.” Dina smiles lightly in Jimmy’s direction. Her gaze lingers on him for a short moment before she nods to one of several girls who have suddenly popped up like seagulls at a picnic. “James, this is Cindy. Cindy, show him a good time will you? I’d like to get to know his best bud just a little bit better. Something tells me I won’t get many chances to do that if I leave him alone too long.”

Jimmy doesn’t waste anytime handing the petite blond the extra glass of pinot. She takes it then his arm and, before I can protest or convince him to at least stick around to save me from what I’m sure is going to be sheer hell, they’re off into the dark corner that was supposed to be my refuge.

“So,” Dina says in a husky voice, her breath brushing across my cheek. Her hands are on me again. “Why don’t you come sit with us?”

I nod and follow along, cursing Jimmy all the way.

After coming to the frustrating conclusion that they won’t be serving beer, I find myself sipping on a glass of champagne an hour later. In a back room full of those who seem to be having an entirely separate party, Dina introduces me to several people I’ve either never heard of or have never heard of me. But it doesn’t seem to matter. They’re still all smiling, laughing and doing their best to include me in conversation that has me totally lost.

It turns out it’s Justice’s thirtieth birthday and that the party is as unpredictable as I first suspected. One guy, who’s supposedly a celebrity chef, laments on every Justice party he’s been to. How crazy things get, how little the women wear and how the servers are usually slinging shots and pills rather than champagne and vintage wine.
 

A very tall blond in an extremely short red skirt and curve hugging black top, places a hand on my thigh.
 

“I’ve been to everyone of his parties too and I swear he must be trying to class it up this year, but I’m not sure why. I mean, let’s face it, Justice is no Eminem. If it weren’t for his looks and his epic parties, there’d be no reason for half the world to follow him around like he’s some kind of savior.”

Dina cuts the blond a look and she mirrors it dagger for dagger. The two seem to have some type of unspoken rivalry. Every time she touches me, Dina scoots closer and every time she does, the blond asks me a random question that requires her full attention.
 

“So who are you hoping to sign with, Ray?” Her hand snakes up my arm this time and I swallow the lump in my throat.

“Uh, I don’t know. I’m not really thinking about it. I mean, I’m trying not to. Whatever happens happens, you know?”

She licks her lips, her expression growing stony as Dina hand squeezes my knee. “Dina, where is Justice? Are you two still—?”

My fiery haired acquaintance waves her hand. “Please, Rochelle. You know he always shows up when the party’s almost over.” She focuses on me again. “He likes to make a grand entrance.”

“Speaking of half-naked girls,” the chef cuts in.

For a moment I’m completely confused, but as I follow his gaze, I quickly get his meaning.
 

In the nauseating sea of dark and bright something suddenly stands out. It’s just a flicker at first, but as I squint doing my best to bring it into focus, my heart nearly stops once I do.
 

She’s nothing like what I’ve been staring at for the past thirty-minutes. Slight and unassuming, she’d probably blend into the nearest wall if it weren’t for that dress.
 

That dress.
 

It’s not red. Or black. It’s the same peachy color as her skin. And it hangs off her in some areas while, hugging her in all the other right places.
 

A spill of dark waves, hangs over one shoulder and even though she’s not obnoxiously tall she could give Rochelle a run for her money with those legs. She’s talking to one of the servers and fiddling with the front of her dress.
 

“Didn’t she get the memo?” some girl asks.
 

I don’t have a clue who because the only person I can see right now is the one that, in the most demure shade, has suddenly made this red and black night that much more interesting.

“I told you,” my friend Marx whispers. “Everyone’s staring.”

I shrug. “I don’t do red and that black dress you tried to squeeze me into…” I focus on Ronnie. “Strapless? Really? You should know me better than that by now. Besides this isn’t so bad.” I smooth the front of the sheer gown and adjust the plunging neckline. Frowning, I add, “Well, except for this part.”

“You look hot, Syd. I’m not arguing that—especially with all that cleavage. ” Marx wiggles both eyebrows and rubs his arm when Ronnie nudges him hard. “But you also kinda look like a rebel.”

The dress is one of only three in Reese’s closet I was willing to try on and that actually fit. It’s a creamy nude color that, at first glance, almost makes me appear naked. At least it would if it was skin-tight like half the dresses in here. But it’s drapey, albeit revealing. Spaghetti straps, thin fabric, belly-button-low neckline and a skirt that only meets my mid thigh. It’s definitely risqué but it’s also comfortable and totally me. If I frequented these kinds of things. Or dressed up at all. Ever.

I run a hand through my loosely curled hair and take deep breath.

“I am a rebel,” I say.

Ronnie rolls her eyes. “Reese may have done a lot of good for you, but she’s a bad influence too. This has her insubordination written all over it. Just go find your football player and do the thing you Buccos do so well.” She sighs and pulls out a clipboard before pressing two fingers against her earpiece. “And Marx get back to work and you guys better not cause me any grief tonight. No liquor. I’m serious.”

He waves her off and straightens his red tie before leaning in close to me. “Okay so you know how this works. You get dirt, you share and anytime you need me, I’m at your disposal.”

“I’m pretty sure we’re even,” I snicker. “Don’t forget I convinced Ronnie to drive you home.” I glance away for a split second before clasping both hands in front of him in a silent plea. “Besides,” I continue. “You’re the one working here. Why not listen in on the occasional conversation. I’m sure you’ll pick something up. ”