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Chapter 12
Ares
The next evening, the clubhouse is rowdy as an impromptu party gets underway. Drinks are flowing, and the girls wear as little as possible. QB is chalking his pool stick while Sphinx racks the balls.
"Yo QB," I shout over the music.
"Yeah, Prez?" QB asks as he walks over to me at the bar.
"I need you to run up to State in the morning and get everything together for the bets on the football game this weekend," I instruct.
"I'm on it," QB affirms.
Misfit walks over to confirm, "I heard back from Zeke. He's been in Nevada. He says he'll be here in a day or two."
I was happy to know things were falling into place.
Cherry struts up on the other side of the bar, leaning on the counter, so her ample cleavage is displayed via her blood red top.
"Can I get you a beer, Prez," she asks with a sex kitten voice.
"Nah, I've got to go," I say, barely acknowledging her tits or her voice.
"Oh?" Cherry asks.
"Yep, don't wait up, kids," I say as a saunter off toward my bike.
***
Willow stands at her front door with her hair in a messy bun, yoga pants, and an NYU sweatshirt.
I'm about five minutes early to pick her up.
"So, are you ready then?" I smirk. Her feistiness turns me on.
"No, I'm not going with you," she states, crossing her arms.
"Vixen, that's not an option," I continue smiling.
"You are such an asshole," her tone stressing the last part.
"And your point is?" I ask, enjoying this little back and forth.
She grabs the door and begins closing it in my face, but I step forward, my body engulfing the door frame.
Willow huffs and glares at me as we stand inches from each other.
Before she can speak, I say, "don't you want to see what I have for you?"
"I don't care! You can take anything you have for me and stick it up your ass!" she responds, stepping back into the house, so I follow her.
"You might want to rethink that vixen," I say, pulling the envelope full of cash out of my back pocket. "I'll give you this if you come to dinner at my place.”
Willow stares at me for several long seconds before speaking. The tension in the air is palpable.
"Let me get this straight, you're going to pay me to have dinner with you?" she asks.
"What's the harm in a bit of dinner with me? I even cooked," I ask sincerely.
