Praise (Salacious Players’ Club)

Charlie

Turns out leading a group of eight-year-olds on roller skates in the cupid shuffle isn’t enough to cheer me up. I can fake a smile, and I can look the part, but on the inside, I just want to go home and crawl into my bed.

After the song is over, I skate back to the front desk, where I pass out skates and sell glow sticks. When it’s quiet, I remember the two times Emerson came to the rink—the first time to shock the hell out of me, and the second time to shock me even more. I can still see him standing here, talking to Sophie and my mom, and it only makes me miss him more.

When the front door opens, I catch a glimpse of a man walking in, silhouetted by the sun behind him, so I can’t make out who it is. The body and gait of his steps is so familiar, my heart nearly stops in my chest.

He wouldn’t come here, would he?

But then the man walks in a little farther, and I make out those sandy brown curls and slightly thinner frame. What the hell is Beau doing here?

He spots me behind the counter and gives me an awkward wave. Oh God…this is going to be awful. I haven’t exactly faced my ex-boyfriend since he found out I was screwing his dad.

As he approaches the counter, I sort of expect him to be irate and start ranting at me and calling me names, but he doesn’t.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey.”

“Sorry to bother you at work. Do you have time for a break?”

“Umm…” I stammer. Getting yelled at by my ex isn’t exactly how I’d like to spend my break.

“I’m not mad,” he says, obviously reading my mind. “I just feel like we should talk.”

“Uhh…sure.” Turning away from him, I go back to the office where Shelley is working and ask her to cover while I’m on break, which she does. I take off my skates and slip into my slides. Then, I walk with Beau out to the parking lot. It’s early May, which means it’s warm, a little windy, and not a cloud in sight.

If there was any weather suitable for this conversation…I guess this is it.

When we reach his truck, he flips down the tailgate and I climb up. We used to do this a lot between shifts at work or for lunch. It makes me feel like the old me, not Charlotte, the girl who wore stilettos and played a sexy secretary for her boss.

Beau and I sit in silence for a few minutes.

Finally, he glances my way and says with a grimace, “My dad, Charlie?”

Fuck this. I hop off the tailgate and start my march back to the front door. He calls after me before I can reach it. “I’m sorry, just come back.”

“I’m not going to spend my break getting guilt-tripped by you.”

“I’m not guilt-tripping you!” he argues. “I just want to hear your side of the story.”

“My side?” I ask, spinning around. “Did you talk to him already?”

“Yeah. I just came from there.”

I’m frozen in place, asking myself if I want to hear what Emerson had to say. “No, I can’t hear it.”

“Charlie, come back. I’m serious. I’ll be nice.”

Before overthinking it, I turn around and walk slowly back to Beau. “So if you already talked to him, what do you want to hear from me?”

“I just want to make sure he didn’t…”

I watch as he stumbles over his words. “Didn’t what?”

“You know…force you into anything.”

My eyebrows pinch together as I stare at him in shock. Is he serious right now? “Force me?”

“Yeah…he’s your boss, Charlie. Not to mention my dad.”

“Ugh!” I groan, throwing my arms up. “No, Beau. He didn’t force me or manipulate me. I appreciate the concern, but your dad was actually nice to me. Probably the nicest boyfriend I’ve ever had, if I’m being honest. If anything, he was the one pushing me away for weeks.”

“And you go to that…club?”

“Don’t act so holier-than-thou, Beau. I was actually happy with him there.”

“This just isn’t like you,” he adds with his chin up and his shoulders back, body language that I’m used to seeing on him to mean he thinks he knows more than me.

My blood is starting to boil, and it’s taking everything in me not to just walk inside and ignore him all together before I do something really stupid.

“Beau…how would you know what I’m like?”

“We dated for a year and a half, Charlie. I know you.”

I shake my head, staring at the ground. I don’t want to keep arguing with him. I thought we were over this.

“Were you really happy with him?” he asks.

“Yes, but he was never going to commit to me. Not if he ever wanted you back.”

“Did you guys really think I was going to just be okay with this?” He sounds appalled, and the urge to run away is fierce again.

“Yes, Beau. It has nothing to do with you. For once I figured you’d be able to accept that not everything is about you!” I snap.

“He’s my dad, Charlie! Not to mention he owns that…club. Look at it from my perspective. You act like you’re so much happier with him than you were with me.”

My jaw nearly hits the floor. I’m done. Done sparing his feelings. Done putting up with his gaslighting and blaming and patronizing ways.

“Maybe because I was! Even when he treated me like property, I felt more valued, more…liked, when I was with him,” I yell.

“Are you implying I didn’t treat you like I liked you?” He jumps off the tailgate and steps up toe to toe with me.

“Yes, Beau. That’s exactly what I’m implying. Emerson never once made me feel stupid or acted like I messed everything up. He never cheated on me.”

“This again?” He throws his arms up.

“Forget it. What is the point?” I ask, spinning around to leave him in the parking lot.

“He told me he loves you. Did you know that?”

His words stop me in my tracks. My spine straightens as I let this news sink in. Did I know that Emerson loved me? Maybe somewhere deep down I did. I certainly know I love him. This news should excite me. It should be the best thing I’ve ever heard, but it only hurts me more.

“Like I said…it doesn’t matter anymore.” With that, I leave Beau in the parking lot, shoving the past behind me where it belongs, so I can’t see what might have been anymore.

When things slow down at the rink around seven, Shelley cuts me loose. But it seems every time I drive home, I get a restless buzzing in my bones. I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin. The walls of the pool house start to close in on me in a matter of minutes. I’ve never hated being home as much as I do now.

But I literally have nowhere else to go. Sophie is at a sleepover. Mom is on nights, and I’m all alone. This is pathetic.

Grabbing a bottle of wine from the kitchen, I take up the living room couch to myself and flip the TV onto the trashiest show I can find. Then, I proceed to drink half the bottle and scroll through my phone, paying no attention to the show that’s playing.

The scrolling gets boring after a while, but at least the wine is keeping the restlessness away. I mindlessly flip through Insta-stories, noticing how everyone I know seems to be having a much better time than me tonight.

Then I click on a story that makes me pause. It’s Eden taking a selfie in a dimly lit room with bright pink light cascading across the black brick wall behind her. I’d know that wall anywhere. She doesn’t tag her location in the story…I mean, it wouldn’t be much of an exclusive club if everyone knew where it was, but she’s giving away just enough of her location as if she’s trying to show off to a small crowd of people. People like me, who know about Salacious.

Members of Salacious…like me.

Yeah, too bad there’s no way I’m going there tonight.

Nope. That’s insane. I don’t even belong there. I only went because I was with Emerson. What would I even do if I went alone? People will be busy all screwing each other, and I couldn’t…

Before I even know what’s happening, I’m in a sleek black dress with a plunging neckline and a hem above my knees. The Uber app is pulled up on my phone, and I’m waiting outside, trembling in my stilettos because the wine buzz is wearing off and I realize now just how insane this is.

The old Charlie would have never done this. I’m not sure the current Charlie would either. But Charlotte—she definitely would. So as the car approaches from the end of the street, I remind myself that I’m Charlotte for tonight. Nothing needs to happen. I’m just going to hang out, maybe do a little watching in the hallway again.

Maybe bump into him…no.

He won’t even be there. He doesn’t like to go to the club at night unless there’s an event happening. So if he is there, then maybe he’s there to find someone or kill some time. That invasive thought settles unpleasantly in my mind, but I try to brush it away as I climb into the car.

When the driver pulls up to the front of the club, I wave goodbye and march my nervous ass up to the door. Surprisingly, I feel a little calmer as I walk through the front door to the small, dark lobby. The young blonde girl behind the counter takes one look at me and smiles. I wish I could remember her name, since she obviously remembers me.

“Good evening, Ms. Underwood,” she chimes with a radiant white smile.

“Good evening,” I reply politely. It feels weird to be back, and I’m caught between feeling comfortable, as if I still work here, and feeling like an imposter.

Be Charlotte. I remind myself.

The girl waves me in, and I smile up at the bouncer who opens the dark curtain and heavy soundproof door for me. “Have fun,” he mutters quietly.

Before stepping out into the main room, I press my shoulders back as far as I can, and I lift my chin. It feels like feigning confidence, but honestly…what’s the difference between real confidence and fake confidence? Probably nothing. So with my clutch nestled under my arm, I strut into the room and notice that it’s so much busier than I’ve seen it. Even on opening night and auction night, there weren’t this many people here.

After taking a quick scan of the room and only noticing a few vaguely familiar faces, I make my way to the bar. The bartender tonight is Geo, the nicest supermodel hot person I’ve ever met—almost too nice to be a bartender. His eyes light up as he spots me, and I smile in return, suddenly feeling a little more comfortable. People recognize me. I belong here.

Sort of.

“I wish I had my camera,” Geo says by way of greeting. “I would have recorded the way you just walked into this room. Like you owned the fucking place.”

I laugh, trying to hide my blush. “I did not.”

“Yes, you did,” a familiar, warm voice joins in a soft arm loops through mine. Turning my head, a wave of relief washes over me when I recognize Eden pressed against my side. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she whispers softly in my ear.

“I need a drink,” I reply, because it’s the only thing right now that makes any sense to me.

“Get this woman a beverage,” Eden says to Geo, who shakes his head with a smile.

“What would you like, my queen?” He’s patronizing me, but it’s amazing how quickly I feel comfortable here. With Eden on my arm and the nice bartender sort of flirting with me, although I know that he and I do not play on the same team, all of my nervous trembles are gone.

Oh, and that giant blond construction worker, who sometimes likes to make my life hell, is grinning at me from across the bar. When he sends me a wink, I shake my head in his direction. It’s a good thing there’s a two-drink limit because I would not trust myself around him if I was any degree of tipsy.

“I’ll have a vodka seltzer water with lime, please,” I say to Geo, and he turns quickly, getting to work making my drink.

Eden and I make small talk. She seems to be sipping on a cranberry juice without alcohol, while I subtly scan the room. I want to know if Emerson is here, but I also don’t want to know because if he is and he’s in one of those rooms, I will be sick.

I recognize the same familiar man from the opening night of the club, who was staring at me, and tonight, he’s wearing a harsh, skeptical glare. It makes my skin crawl, especially since I’m about ninety percent sure this isn’t someone I met through Emerson or the club.

Oh well, I have every right to be here, and he’s not going to make me feel uncomfortable. Turning away from him, I look at Eden.

“Can I tell you something?” I ask, after I’m halfway through my first drink.

“Of course,” Eden replies with a devious smirk.

“I recognized you from your blog.”

Her eyes widen in response and a bright smile stretches across her face. “I didn’t know anyone actually read that thing. But I like writing it anyway.”

“Are you kidding? I was obsessed. After I learned about this place and first met Emerson, it was your blog that made me feel…I don’t know…like I wasn’t so weird.”

“Good,” she announces, placing a hand on my leg. “That was the intent. Do you think men ever feel bad for the stuff they like? Do they get called sluts or depraved or nasty? No. I think we’re all tired of being shamed and shoved into these quiet, perfect little innocent versions of ourselves while men can be as deviant as they want.”

I can’t help the grin that takes over my expression. “I think I love you,” I reply.

She quickly cheers my glass before announcing, “Good. We could all use more love, right?”

“Right,” I reply, sucking down what’s left in my glass.

“Geo, someone needs another,” Eden announces, when she notices the look on my face growing somber.

After Geo sets down my drink, I let out a heavy sigh. Eden must be reading my mind because she leans in and says, “He’s here, but I haven’t seen him with anyone. He’s probably in the office.”

Or in one of the rooms with someone else.

“I don’t know why I came,” I mutter quietly to myself.

“I do,” she answers immediately. “To show him what he’s missing.”

“By sitting here alone at the bar?” I laugh.

Eden is staring at me with a calculating expression on her face. “Tell me, Charlotte. Have you ever been with a woman before?”

My eyes widen, as I choke on my drink. She responds with a light chuckle.

“That’s what I figured. If I promise to take it slow, would you like to go make your man crazy with jealousy? I don’t think it will take much.”

Maybe it’s the two drinks I’ve already finished or the excitement for the unknown, but I can’t think of a single reason why I’d turn down that offer. Eden is drop dead gorgeous, and there’s definitely an attraction here. We’re not talking about full-blown sex, but the idea of drawing Emerson’s attention is something I can’t say no to.

“Definitely.”

“Come on.” She grabs my hand and pulls me away from the bar. “Let’s go have some fun.”