A pretty blond woman walks up beside JP, her blue eyes assessing.
“Well hello there,” she says. “I’m a huge fan of the game, and you in particular. We’re so glad you could make it.”
JP frowns at her, but she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care, because she keeps staring and batting fake lashes at me. Nothing against fake lashes. I just don’t like it when the woman blinking them is fake, too. I’ve had one of those already.
“Kenan, this is Amanda,” JP says. “One of my favorite stylists.”
“One of your favorites?” She affects an affronted look. Or maybe it’s real. I can’t tell.
“Don’t be a greedy little so and so,” JP says, diffusing the chastisement with a smile.
“You’re the last guest to arrive,” Keir says smoothly, unclamping the rope and gesturing for us to walk the short board to the floating boat.
The yacht is huge, and everyone seems to be spread over two decks. A DJ plays everything from house music to hip-hop, to 80s and 90s pop. Servers bearing trays laden with food glide between clusters of guests. We’re moving so slowly on the water I barely feel it, but the pier has drifted farther away every time I glance back. The skyline, dotted with glittering buildings against the velvety night, keeps distracting me from the conversation.
“You hungry?” Amanda asks. She’d take a bite of me if I was down, which I’m not. I’ve had enough experience with man-eaters to last a lifetime. She’ll find someone else to devour. I’m sure any reasonably attractive millionaire will do.
“Uh, nah. I’ve eaten.” I shake my head and tap my leg with twitching fingers. My workout regimen has been thrown off the last few days transitioning into my new place and moving. I can tell I have a lot of pent-up energy. They probably don’t have anything I can eat anyway. The key to me playing as long as I want to and going out on my terms is playing smarter, not harder. Smarter means living like a monk year-round, if you’re a monk who works out twice a day, soaks in ice baths, and can still have sex.
That could be why I’m twitching. Bridget and I may have been on opposite sides of every issue, but we slept in the same bed, and shame on me, I fucked her long after I stopped loving her. But my vows were sacred, at least to me, and she was my only option. No sex was not an option.
And yet . . . here I stand with twitching fingers and pent-up energy. I could definitely use the summer fuck Banner suggested.
“Drink?” JP asks.
Not usually, but alcohol does help me smile when I feel like scowling. “Sure. Wine’s fine. Red.”
I avoid the hard stuff as much as possible, even in the off-season. Besides, if I plan to make it off this boat without Amanda taking advantage of me, I need a relatively clear head.
JP grabs a glass of red from one of the trays and introduces me to several more people. They may as well be the same person as much as their names and faces compute.
“It’s a lot,” a pretty redhead with green eyes says. “We’re a lot, but we mean well. I’m Billie, by the way.”
“Nice to meet you, Billie,” I say.
“The games will help you get to know everyone,” JP assures, as if that assures me.
“Games?” I ask. I play one game. Basketball. Anything else, I can’t be bothered.