Praise (Salacious Players’ Club)

Charlotte

I couldn’t sleep all night. Visions of what happened in the throne room play on repeat in my mind. Kissing Eden…which worked like a charm, like she said it would. He couldn’t stay away the second he saw her hands on me.

And walking away from him was pure torture. But I had to do it. Although I spent the rest of my night tossing and turning, wanting to throw caution to the wind and call him. I could go to his house, let him take me to bed and pretend that consequences didn’t exist and there was no risk of me being hurt.

But then it’s only a matter of time before Beau shows back up again and I’m pushed aside, ignored and forgotten. What kind of future did I really have with Emerson like this? He would never commit, never marry me. We couldn’t live together or plan our lives as long as he was keeping me a dirty secret under his desk.

I deserve better. I know that to be true, but it’s still hard to convince my heart that seems to think the only solution to this problem is to ignore my convictions and crawl back to him. Stupid heart.

I’m lying in bed, staring at the picture Garrett sent me a few days ago of me and Emerson at the club on opening night, when I hear a car door slam shut out front. My mom and Sophie are already home, so something about this seems off.

Then, I hear the ominous sound of my name being called by the one person I would least expect.

“Charlotte, get out here!” my father bellows from outside my pool house, and I freeze. What the fuck?

Jumping out of bed in my pajama shorts and a T-shirt, I creep toward the door and peer out the window. And there he is. The man I haven’t seen in over a year is pacing outside my door with a look of intense rage on his face. I can’t move…the feeling of shame and guilt swimming through my veins, although I have no idea what I feel so sorry about.

A moment later, I watch my mother emerge from the house with a look of shock on her face.

“Jimmy, what are you doing here?” she calls toward him.

His fist bangs against my door before he turns the knob, finding it locked and banging again.

“Charlie, get out here now!”

A cold chill runs up my spine as I fumble with the lock. “What—” I start as I pull open the door.

I barely get the door open before he’s shouting at me. “I got a call from a colleague of mine. I heard what you’ve been up to.”

“What?” I stammer, my eyes dancing between my mother and him. A colleague?

“What are you talking about?” my mother replies, meeting us by the door.

“Of course you don’t know what your kids have been up to, Gwen,” he says with a biting hatred toward my mother, and I feel the undeniable urge to step forward and defend her.

I have happy memories of my dad. Memories of his laughter and his smiles. His hugs and jokes and cuddles on the couch. But right now…all I see is the face I haven’t seen in over a year contorted in fury as he looks at me with an expression that shows more disgust and shame than love and acceptance.

“I’m not a kid,” I argue.

“Yeah, well, you’re my kid, and I won’t have you selling your body to a bunch of rich perverts!” he yells, and my cheeks flush hot.

I catch movement behind my mom and notice Sophie stepping out of the house to see what’s going on. Swallowing down my nerves, I give her a quick shake of my head. There’s a look of fear on her face that shatters my heart, and I don’t care about me or getting yelled at by my dad or my parents knowing what exactly I’ve been up to these past few months. But if my actions bring any pain or fear to her, then I’ll never forgive myself.

“Keep your voice down,” I mutter through clenched teeth.

“Why?” he replies. “You don’t want your mother hearing that you were at some sex club auctioning yourself off for seventy-five grand?”

My mother gasps and covers her mouth. “Is that where your money has been coming from, Charlie?”

“No!”

Behind my dad, I watch Sophie pull out her cellphone, typing something out before disappearing into the house. I just want her away from here.

“What’s he talking about, Charlie?” my mother asks, her tone laced with fear.

My shoulders slump as I stare at her. “I’m not a prostitute, Mom,” I say, and she takes a deep breath.

“She’s been going to some…some…sex club,” he says with disgust, and I wince. I didn’t need my mother finding out like this. It’s not fair to her.

“Is that where you work? Is that where Emerson…”

“Emerson Grant?” my dad cuts in with a bite in his tone.

I can’t believe how badly I want the ground to swallow me whole right now. This is beyond humiliating, and I don’t have the heart to look at my mother. I notice the way she’s shrinking away.

My eyes stay on the ground, trying to drown out the rage-filled man standing next to me. “Emerson owns the club,” I say delicately. I wish she and I could have this conversation alone. I hate myself for waiting this long. My mom is understanding; she wouldn’t have cared if I could have just told her everything before he found out.

“Oh, Charlie…” she says, lowering her head and rubbing her forehead.

“But I never sold myself,” I bite back, this time directing my frustration at him.

“Bullshit!” he yells.

“Let her talk, Jimmy. She’s an adult—’

“A guy I work with saw you, Charlie! He saw you there three times. He said you got up on stage, in some auction, and sold yourself!”

The dark, scrutinizing eyes of the man I saw last night come back in my mind. I knew I had seen that man somewhere, and now I can see it all so clearly. I had met him when I was younger, and I knew he worked at my dad’s law firm. I wince, thinking about him seeing me on that stage in almost nothing, being carted off by Emerson, in the voyeur room last night with Eden. I groan at the memory.

“That man who won was my boyfriend,” I reply, forcing myself to keep my shoulders up and not cower in shame. Over and over in my mind, I just keep chanting: I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t do anything wrong. I didn’t do anything wrong.

“Oh, your boyfriend,” my dad replies. “I heard all about him too. Emerson Grant.” It’s the way he emphasizes his last name that I know what he’s about to imply. “Beau’s dad, Charlie?”

“Oh, Jimmy, will you leave her alone? She’s an adult. You can’t just come here and—”

He holds up a hand, pressing it right in her face to silence her, and a feeling of red-hot rage flows through me.

“You have no fucking say anymore, Gwen. I never should have left them with you. Look how you’ve fucked them both up. First, it was…” He waves his hand toward the house, and I know he’s about to bring Sophie into this. He’s about to dead name my little sister, and everything in me wants to explode with anger.

“Don’t you dare bring her into this,” my mother snaps, stopping him before he even has a chance. “You lost that chance when you abandoned her.”

When she tries to shove his hand away from her face, he pushes her backward, and I snap. My dad has never been violent with me or my mom, but he’s always dominated the conversation. He constantly silenced her or talked down to her, and right now, the sight of him shoving her away like her voice means nothing has me seeing red.

“Don’t touch her!” I scream, trying to force my way between them. But my mother is fighting back too, and he’s too busy screaming at her around me that he doesn’t seem to care that I’m trying to stop him.

The scuffle between us intensifies quickly. I distantly recognize the sound of more voices from afar, two car doors closing. But I have tunnel vision, focusing solely on getting my dad as far away from my mother as I can. There’s so much yelling, though, him shouting at my mother, her screaming back at him.

Suddenly, I can’t even believe what my eyes are seeing as two large, broad hands grab my father by the collar and throw him hard against the wall of the guest house.

I must be hallucinating because Emerson has his face in my father’s, snarling at him like an angry animal. “Touch either of them again, and I’ll fucking bury you.”

“Emerson!” I scream.

“Emerson?” my dad echoes in surprise. “You’re the asshole fucking my daughter?”

My hand covers my mouth, and I glance toward the house again to make sure Sophie isn’t around to hear this.

My mother grabs my hand, pulling me away, and I feel the way she’s trembling. But I can’t take my eyes off of Emerson, the anger and hatred dripping from his expression and the tone in his voice.

He looks unhinged as his brow furrows even more. “Watch your mouth, you piece of shit.”

“You make me sick,” my dad snaps.

“Both of you, stop!” I scream, coming toward them.

“Stay away from him, Charlie. Call the police,” my dad snarls, but Emerson shoves him back up against the wall.

“Please, stop,” I beg, wrapping a hand around Emerson’s arm. When he glances down at me, there’s a hint of softness in his eyes. And he seems to struggle with his next breath as he lets out a heavy sigh. Carefully, he pulls his hands away from my dad’s shirt and backs away. The moment is wrought with tension as the two men stare daggers at each other.

“Gwen, did you know this forty-year-old man has been doing…God knows what with our daughter?”

“Dad, please stop,” I beg, the humiliation washing over me again. A large hand rests against my back, and I lean into his comfort.

My mother scoffs. “Yes, Jimmy, I knew. He came to Sophie’s birthday party.”

There’s a brief moment of shock and confusion on my father’s face as he looks between her and him and me. I can see all of the things Emerson wants to say to my dad just hanging on his lips.

I feel like I can barely move. Like one wrong word or move and everything between them will explode.

“Why didn’t I know about this party?” my dad replies.

“Because you weren’t invited,” my mother snaps back in a clipped tone. I’ve never heard her talk to him like that, and I sort of love her for it. Go Mom.

“I think you should leave,” Emerson growls.

“Me? This is my house, asshole.”

“I don’t think your family wants you here right now while you’re acting like this,” Emerson says with a level tone. “So why don’t you leave and calm down. Come back when you can talk like a real man.”

Neither of the men move, and it feels like there’s a ticking time bomb between them.

“A real man?” my dad replies with a scoff. “You think you’re a real man? Manipulating young girls. I know all about your disgusting club, and my daughter deserves far better than you, you sick fuck.”

“Hey!” another voice yells from the fence line, and we all turn in unison to see Beau standing by the gate. My mouth hits the ground as I watch him march toward my father with a look of pure rage on his face. “Don’t talk to my dad like that.”

Emotion claws at my throat, like someone is sitting on my chest, and when I look at Emerson, I see the way his expression changes too. The anger fades and the shame beneath it shows through.

My dad, on the other hand, is laughing.

“Your dad?” he asks. “I’m sorry, but weren’t you dating my daughter first? You’re telling me you’re fine with him taking your girl? What kind of fucked-up family are you?”

“Yeah, well, at least my dad calls me and gives a shit about me and didn’t abandon me when I needed him most,” Beau replies, and my eyes widen in shock. I reach out a hand to calm him, because at the moment, he looks like he wants to punch a hole through my dad’s face. But the words coming out of his mouth make me pause. Is he…standing up for Emerson?

“Son,” Emerson says, reaching a hand out to calm Beau, “it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Beau cuts back. “I’m not gonna stand here and let this ignorant prick treat Charlie like shit, treat you like shit, and act like he’s so much better than you.”

“You guys should just leave,” my dad snaps, and I look over at my mom. She sends me an apologetic look before turning to my dad.

“No, Jimmy. You should leave. Emerson was right. Come back when you’re calm and want to talk, but you’ve caused enough drama for the girls today.”

“I’m not leaving you with this pervert,” he argues, motioning to Emerson. Beau and I both react with an argument, but Emerson only holds his hand up to stop us.

Then, he looks right at my dad and takes a long, steadying breath.

“You know what, you’re right. I do own a club downtown, and I do take your daughter there, but I haven’t brainwashed her, or manipulated her, or hurt her in any way. And I’m not ashamed. You think you know what’s right for your daughters, but you have no idea. You just want them to live how you think they should live, and you’re so self-righteous, you’ve lost your family because of it.

“I may not be the best father in the world, but I’d choose my kid’s happiness over mine every time. And I know for a fact that you could never love Charlie as much as I do. Not if you could stand being away from her for a single day.”

I feel the air leave my lungs as those words leave his lips, my heart nearly exploding in my chest. I realize at this moment just how much I love him, how much I’ve changed since he started loving me, and how everything we’ve fought about until this moment is trivial. It becomes strikingly clear in this moment—Emerson means everything to me.