“No thank you.” I cross my arms over my chest. “If I played strip poker with you, I’d win, and then I’d be forced to stare at the three of you naked. Sorry, not interested.”
“You’ve gotten brave,” Creed drawls, looking like he’s half-asleep with boredom. Not even three bare-chested girls have aroused his attention. No, the only time I’ve seen him look alive is when he was destroying that Derrick guy. “We’ve been pretty lax in reminding you of your status, haven’t we?” Tristan and Zayd give him a pair of cryptic looks that he doesn’t bother returning. “You three, get up. We’re done here.”
The girls all gape at each other, snatching up their shirts and leveling dark glares on me, as if it’s my fault the game’s over.
“Guess you’re going to entertain all four of them,” she starts, jerking her thumb in the direction of Tristan, Zayd, Creed, and Zack, “all by yourself. No wonder they call you the Working Girl.” The redhead shoves me out of the way with her hip, and I grit my teeth. Truth be told, I feel sorry for her. It must be awful to be so angry all the time.
“Take a seat, Charity, so I can wipe the floor with your ass.” Tristan shuffles the cards, and then deals out a new hand, pausing as he glances up at Zack. “What the fuck do you want? I don’t remember inviting you.”
The two of them glare at each other for so long that Creed actually rolls his eyes, the first signs of life on his bored, princely face. He flicks some of that white-blonde hair of his off his forehead with long, elegant fingers. I wish Miranda were here, but since she’s on an academy-sponsored trip, no phones allowed. I can’t even text her.
“Let him play, Tristan. Who cares? I’m not scared of this asshole.”
“Mind if I jump in, too?” Andrew asks, coming from the direction of the slot machines. He’s wearing his academy uniform, and his chestnut hair is smooth and shiny. He smiles at me, and I grin back at him. Tristan, on the other hand, goes completely stiff and his eyes turn into silver slits.
“Whatever.” Creed gestures absently at the three empty chairs the girls left, and then turns his blue eyes to me. “You understand that by playing here, you’re committing to the Infinity Club rules.”
“I don’t even know what the Infinity Club is,” I say as I sit down and pretend I don’t notice Creed and Tristan studying my outfit. They seem … perplexed. Like they’ve never seen a girl in a ratty t-shirt and old jeans before.
Tristan chucks something at me, and it smacks me in the chest before falling to the floor. He barely looks up, divvying up the chips. I narrow my eyes at him as I pick it up, finding a debit card with my name on it. There’s a paper statement wrapped around it that slipped off, so I grab that, too.
My eyes bug out of my head as I stare at the statement balance.
“Forty-thousand dollars?!” I choke, flicking my eyes up to Tristan. “How … shouldn’t …” I take a moment to clear my throat as Zayd laughs at me in a very mocking, derisive sort of way. Taking a deep breath, I steady myself and gather my thoughts. “You gave me the buy-in, so we’re supposed to split the earnings, right?”
“Keep it. It’s not worth my time,” Tristan says, and I don’t think he’s in any way trying to be nice. He just literally doesn’t care.
“How did you get all my information to open an account anyway?” I ask, my eyes sliding over to Creed. He just stares back at me with a half-lidded gaze.
“My mom has all your info from the scholarship thing. She checked in with your dad, and he agreed to letting you have your own account.”
Andrew takes the spot on my left while Zack sits on my right, and I’m just staring down at the paper with tears budding in my eyes. Don’t let them fall, I think. If you let these guys see any weakness, they’ll pounce. Crumpling the paper up, I shove it and the debit card into my jeans pocket. Later, I’ll lie back in bed and fantasize about forty grand. But not right now.
“So are you going to tell me anything about the Infinity Club? Or just assume I understand all the rules?”
“Once you make a bet,” Zack supplies, slipping out his jacket and glancing over at me, “you’re bound to it. Whatever you promise, you’re mandated to deliver. Otherwise, you lose your place in the club, and you’re subject to mob justice.”
“Like Derrick?” I ask, and Creed stiffens while Tristan shrugs.
“Who?” he asks, and when he looks up at me with that cold face of his, I actually wonder if he’s already forgotten. “Just don’t bet what you can’t deliver, Charity.” I frown as he leans back and nods his chin at the group. “If she wins, she wants immunity for a whole month. No shit talk, no pranks, no haircuts.” Tristan’s mouth curves in a lordly little smile. “Isn’t that right, Charity?”
“And if you win?” I ask, staring into his eyes and finding it suddenly hard to breathe. He shouldn’t be so pretty, so carved and sculpted, so full of himself. It’s impossible to look away. “What do you want?”
“If I win this round, I want a personal favor from each and every one of you.”
“That’s … really vague,” I hedge, feeling my heart thunder in my chest.
“Nothing damning or life-altering. Something simple you’d do for a friend.” The way Tristan says that last word, I’m not exactly sure he knows what a friend is.
“Like … pick up their clothes from the dry cleaner?” I ask, and I’m pretty sure every guy at that table looks at me like I’m stupid.
“Like, tell Creed to fuck all the way off of Harper. The flirting is starting to get annoying.” Tristan looks pointedly at Creed, but he waves him off. This is the second time I’ve heard these guys laying claim to girls, like they actually have a right to do that. It’s disturbing.
“Fine. But if you win and you fuck us with these favors, I’ll destroy you.” Creed glances over at Andrew, and a visible line of tension forms between him and Tristan. “And you?”
“I’ll play for Marnye’s immunity, too,” he says, and I turn to look at him in surprise. He smiles and shrugs his shoulders like it’s no big deal. “It’s doubtful I’ll win, but I’m at least here to support you.”
“What a crock of shit,” Tristan murmurs, shoving raven-dark hair away from his face and running his tongue ever so slowly along his lower lip. His gray eyes find Zack. “How about you? You playing for Marnye, too?”
Zack stares back at him, and then crosses his bulky arms over his chest.
Tristan scowls, and turns to Zayd.
“I want the keys to your dad’s Spider for the rest of the week, no questions asked.” Zayd’s face takes on a suggestive leer. “I have plans.”
“Fine. Creed?” Tristan turns to his friend, and I watch as those blue eyes slide over to me.
“I want to know who my sister’s fucking.”
“What?” I ask, the word just falling out of my mouth unbidden. My cheeks redden because even if I did have that information, I wouldn’t give it to him. “What makes you think she’s sleeping with someone?”
“Well, the naked pictures that Derrick had for starters,” Creed drawls, waving his hand at me. “You’re her only friend. Surely she’s told you something.” He stares me down, like if he looks hard enough, maybe I’ll spill the truth onto the poker table. I just look back at him.
“I won’t make that deal. Miranda trusts me.” Creed clenches his jaw, the hardness in his face such a stark contrast against his usual lackadaisical nature. “I’m not playing if that’s all you want.”
“She cried herself to sleep the other night,” he counters, blue eyes narrowing on me. “And she won’t tell me what’s wrong.” My heart stutters over a beat, and I find myself sucking on my lower lip. I’m aware he’s playing with me, but I’m also pretty damn sure he’s telling the truth, too. The only thing Creed seems to actually care about is his twin. “She doesn’t have to know the information’s coming from you.”
“Fine,” I choke out, but I’ve already decided that as soon as we’re done here, I’m going to text Miranda and tell her about this. Creed asked for information; he never said I couldn’t tell Miranda he was gunning for it. Besides, secrets breed distrust. Without them, there aren’t any skeletons to be pulled out of the proverbial closet. “It’s a deal—if you win.”
“Are we done with the chitchat?” Tristan asks as a small sea of people forms around us, curious to see what the Idols are up to. The girls all left on various family getaways, but I can’t help but wondering if they’re a part of the Infinity Club, too. Maybe all the Bluebloods are? Anyway, I’m still not entirely sure what the club is, but it doesn’t matter. I’m here for one reason, and one reason only: to win that month of freedom. And maybe a little respect, too? “Because if you assholes want to gossip, you can do it somewhere else. I have an appointment with Ebony Peterson tonight.”
“Isn’t she dating Jalen?” Creed asks, an insouciant smirk on his face.
“So?” is Tristan’s reply. My cheeks flush red as he deals out a fresh hand, and gestures for the game to start. We still use chips for betting, but it’s all just a show. There’s no money at stake, just personal gains to be had.
It goes much the same as before, with Zayd folding quickly, Andrew following suit, and Zack, Tristan, and Creed watching my every move. Eventually, they all fold, and I’m the last one left standing.
With a grin, I flip my cards over and drop them on the table.
It’s all bullshit.
“You have quite the poker face,” Andrew says with a smile, putting a hand on my knee. My grin turns into a moue of surprise, and his cheeks flame. He pulls his hand back like he didn’t quite realize what he was doing. Our eyes meet, and he gives me that winning grin I saw on my first day here. Andrew Payson was the first person to be nice to me, and he hasn’t stopped. “Could I give you a ride back to the academy? There’s a twenty-four diner on the way.”