Page 62 of The Striker (Gods of the Game 1)
She faced me, her frown melting into a grateful smile. “Thanks for your help. You totally didn’t have to do that.” Shestuck out her hand. I shook it, bemused by her formality. “I’m Brooklyn.”
Her accent sounded American, but there was just enough of a British lilt to throw me off.
“Scarlett. And you’re welcome. Both those wankers had it coming.”
Between the Angry Boar and this, I was on a roll. I hardly recognized myself, but I didn’t hate the person I was today (minus my questionable decision to come out in the first place).
“They did, didn’t they?” The blond’s grin widened. She was lean and athletic-looking, with hair the color of a lion’s mane and the healthy tan of someone who spent most of their days outdoors. A faint constellation of freckles dotted her nose and cheeks. “Are you here by yourself?”
“I’m meeting a friend inside,” I said.
“Great. Me too.” Brooklyn hooked her arm through mine. “Come on.”
Before I could protest, she pulled me around the corner and straight to the entrance. “Hey, Timmy. How’s it going?”
Timmy? This giant’s name wasTimmy?
His scowl broke out into a toothy smile. “Hey, Brookie. Good to see ya. How’s your dad doin’?”
“Great, if you overlook his stress and unwillingness to take his vitamins.”
The boom of Timmy’s laughter sounded like boulders rolling down the side of a mountain. “Sounds like him.” He unhooked the velvet rope and waved us through without checking our IDs. “Have fun.”
We swanned past, eliciting a chorus of grumbles from the queue. Timmy silenced them with another scowl.
“Next!” he barked. “Where’s your ID?”
The door closed behind us, enveloping us in neon-splashed darkness and thumping music.
“Brookie, huh?” I shouted over the noise.
She laughed. “Family friend!” she yelled back. “Speaking of friend, you want me to help you find yours?”
“It’s okay. You go have fun.” I gestured toward the dance floor. “I don’t want to keep you, and you’ve helped enough.”
“You sure?”
I nodded.
“Give me your phone anyway.” Brooklyn took my mobile and entered her number. “Here, I texted myself, so I have your number too. You need anything, give me a shout. It was nice meeting you, Scarlett!”
“You too!”
Normally, I would never exchange numbers with a virtual stranger, but Brooklyn gave me good vibes. Plus, I needed more friends. I hadn’t realized how small my social circle really was until tonight, when I couldn’t think of anyone else to invite out besides Carina.
I stared at the undulating crowd, took a deep breath, and plunged in.
Luckily, it didn’t take me long to find the VIP lounge. It was located on the top floor, and the relative quiet here compared to the chaos of the main rooms was almost jarring.
A security guard and a woman in a dazzling silver sequined dress stood at the base of the stairs leading into the lounge. She carried a clipboard and walkie-talkie and arched her eyebrows at my approach.
“Hi. I’m here for the private party.”
Asher still hadn’t responded to my text, but hehadto be here. Right?
The hostess flicked her eyes over my outfit. I was wearing my nicest black dress and heels accessorized with a designer clutch Vincent bought for my twenty-fourth birthday. It wasn’t cutting-edge fashion, but judging by her grimace, you’d think I’d shown up in a potato sack and Crocs.
“And who are you?” Her tone indicated she already knew the answer.