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The next morning, we get the call that the company we work for is going under. They’re filing for bankruptcy and we’re all out of a job, but before any of us can file for unemployment, we have a business plan. I head the company. Garrett handles the clients. Hunter works with the developers. And Maggie manages all of us. And it’s that easy.
Salacious Players’ Club is born.
RULE #1: NEVER PUT UP WITH A DOUCHEBAG BOYFRIEND—DUMP THAT LOSER.
Charlie
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Charlie?” Beau snaps when he sees me pull up with my windows down. My jaw clenches as I climb out my car and slam the door behind me. I glance back at my little sister, watching from the passenger seat, and swallow down the humiliation at her hearing my stupid ex-boyfriend berate me on the front lawn of his new house. I don’t even bother asking what I’ve done because, with him, it’s always somehow my fault.
“Fuck off, Beau,” I mutter through clenched teeth. “Just give me my half of the deposit so I can be on my way.”
He stops in his tracks between the pickup truck and the front door of his house with a moving box in his arms. “I wish I could, but you weren’t at the final walk-through with the landlord, so they sent the money to my dad. You’ll have to pick it up from him.”
“Your dad? What? Why?”
Beau carries the box labeled ‘X-Box shit’ into the house and drops it on the floor next to his TV before returning to the truck. He’s renting a new place with his best friend, and it would seem he’s still holding a grudge against me for breaking up with him. Beau and I dated for fifteen months, six of those we spent living in a shitty rental where we quickly learned that we actually hated each other. Apparently, we could date and sleep together casually, but being in a mature live-together relationship was a no-go.
It only took three months in the apartment for him to cheat on me—or to get caught, I should say.
“Yes, Charlie. My dad. He was listed on the lease as our co-signer, and when you weren’t around to pick up the deposit, they sent it to him.”
“Fuck,” I mumble. “Well, I’m sorry I wasn’t here, Beau, but I was busyworking.”I make sure to emphasize the word, since I’ve been the one carrying two jobs while he can barely hold down one for more than a month.
“Frying corndogs at the skating rink hardly makes you the responsible one in this relationship.”
“At least I could pay the bills.”
“Let’s not do this again,” he shouts as he slams the tailgate of the truck closed. Beau doesn’t haveangerproblems, per se. He’s just an asshole.
“You started it.”
I glance back at Sophie watching from the car. She has a tight-lipped expression with her eyebrows pinched together. A look that clearly says she hates everything about the interaction between me and my ex.
I’ll give her credit. Since the beginning, my fourteen-year-old sister has been the biggest Beau critic. Of course, back then I was starry-eyed and blinded by love. And, at only fourteen, she’s still immune to the sorcery of guys with sandy brown curls, piercing blue eyes, six-foot frames, and abs for days.
“So, what am I supposed to do?” I ask, when Beau continues on with his unpacking while ignoring my presence.
“Well, if you want your half of the deposit, I guess you’re going to have to get it from my dad.”
“Can’t you just get it for me?”
For some stupid reason, I feel likeI’mthe one being a pain in the ass. Beau was always like this. He just had a way of making me feel worthless and desperate for any positive attention from him, so much so that I spent more time trying to please him than actually being happy—something that became abundantly clear after we broke up. Sometimes we really can’t see the forest for the trees, as they say.
“You know I don’t talk to that asshole anymore.”
“So, you’re not going to get your half of the deposit back?”
“Not worth it,” he snaps. I follow him back into the house.
“Well, I can’t afford to lose that money, Beau.”
With a long, annoyed sigh, he spins on me and rolls his eyes. “Fine. Here.” He pulls his phone from his back pocket and types something quickly with a furrow in his brow. A moment later, my phone vibrates from my purse. “That’s his address. Take it up with him.”
Then, he just walks away, leaving me with my jaw hanging open. “Seriously? That’s it?”
“If you really wanted the money, you should have met with the landlord yesterday.”
