“I’d rather you show me a good time,” I quip.
Drea laughs. “You wish. I manage the girls and work the bar when we’re shorthanded, but I don’t dance. And I don’t think that would go over well with my boss.”
Kane taps me on the shoulder to get my attention and whispers, “That one is off-limits. Remember what I told you about this place?”
“Oh, right,” I say, recalling what he said about Scores being a front for the Philadelphia Mafia. No girl is worth getting whacked.
She steers me into a private room with the same colored lights and leather couches as the rest of the establishment. But this is much nicer than what I’ve come to expect. Tiled in dark marble instead of carpet, the floor has a certain shine to them, and a small chandelier suspends from the center of the mirrored ceiling. Everywhere I look, I can see my reflection staring back at me.
Behind a small bar to my right, a busty blonde waits for us, topless. She flashes a sexy smile and says, “Hello.” Her tits jiggle as she raises a bottle of vodka, looking like the girl next door that you didn’t know was really a closet freak.
Drea holds out her hand and points at the couches. “Gentlemen, make yourselves comfortable. Whenever you’re ready, help yourselves to some food. I’ll go get the girls. Alex, any preference? I already know what these two like.”
“Yeah, you do, baby,” Kane says. He looks at the girl behind the bar and raises his index finger, beckoning her to come. “Candy, get your fine ass over here. Come show my new teammate some love.”
Candy gathers the three shot glasses she just poured and walks around the bar and toward us.
I take the glass from Candy and turn to Drea, knocking it back in one swig. The vodka burns on the way down, but it feels good to get some alcohol in my system. “No, I don’t care. Whatever girls you think I’ll like.”
“Works for me,” Drea says with a nod and walks out of the room.
Kane shakes Candy from his arm and moves toward me. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving, and the Marcheses make the best food in town. You’ve gotta try it.”
The thought of eating in a strip club makes me want to vomit, considering how many bodily fluids are exchanged on any given night, but it doesn’t look like the normal sleazy joint I’ve been to a thousand times. My stomach is growling too much for me to ignore the hunger pains. Plus, I don’t want to risk puking later because I was dumb enough to get shit-faced on an empty stomach.
I follow Kane to the buffet set up at the back of the room. A young girl in a black tank top stands behind the table, a plate in her hand, ready to serve us.
Kane gives her a tiny smile. “Just give us a little of everything, sugar.”
“Hey, Bambie,” Donovan says, leaning on the table. “What’s shakin’?”
She chuckles, blush spreading across her cheeks. “Other than my tits, not much, Carter.”
I don’t think I’ve ever been on a first-name basis with a stripper in my life. Kane and Donovan are starting to make me feel like I’m not as much of a scumbag as the papers have led everyone to believe. Now, banging puck bunnies is a whole other story. There’s no shortage of those.
After Bambie hands us our plates, we sit on the couches and eat our food. Kane is right. This is the best Italian food I’ve ever tasted. I go back for seconds and thirds by the time Drea appears again with five girls.
Per my request, Candy sits a tray of shot glasses on the table. I plan to drink every single one of them. After all, I didn’t come here for pussy; I came here to drink. Leaning back against the leather, I pound a few shots of Johnnie Walker Blue Label before a brunette hops onto my lap, completely nude.
Nice.
I’m glad this isn’t one of those bullshit clubs that are only topless. At least my new teammates know how to pick them.
Kane sits down next to me, his arm wrapped around a dark-haired girl with pierced nipples. To my left, Donovan has his face shoved between Candy’s breasts. I’m more concerned with shoveling down the shots of whiskey on the table in front of me. Holding on to the girl gyrating on my dick, I reach around her to grab another shot.
Kane nudges me with his elbow. “Welcome to the team, man. We’re glad to have you. Our defense sucks right now, and we can use someone with your skills.”
“I’ve noticed. The team rankings are horrible with the exception of Donovan’s save percentage. And you’re killing it. What do you have? About thirty points already?”
“Thirty-two,” he corrects. “Maybe you can help us whip this team into shape. I dreamed of playing for the Flyers since I was a kid. I can’t imagine playing for another team, but I’d like to have a shot at the Stanley Cup someday. Shit, I’d even settle for first-round playoffs at this point.”
“We don’t have a lot to work with.” I pound the amber liquid in my hand and continue, “But I’m willing to give it a shot. I was so close to a championship last year before the bullshit with the owner’s granddaughter.”
“Yeah, I heard about that.”
“I think everyone in the country has heard about it at this point.”
“What a bunch of shit. They really dragged your ass through the mud over it because of her age. How the hell did they get the tape the next day anyway?”