Page 1 of The Laughing Game

Chapter One

Before I left my home, I texted the redhead that had departed in the quiet hours of the morning.

Me: Thanks. That was fun.

Rebecca: Yes! Hit me up if you ever want a repeat.

Me: Will do.

I smiled and pocketed my phone. That was unlikely. It had been fine, and she was very attractive. But the casual sex with strangers thing was starting to wear thin. My life had been a bit of a shit show the last few years, and I hadn’t had time for more.

My dad had passed away and I’d had to arrange for my mother to be cared for, first in her home and then in a retirement facility, where she lived currently. None of my siblings lived in town, and although I could discuss my options with them over the phone, the responsibility fell on my shoulders since they were busy with their children and husbands. Luckily, she liked the place and was settled and mostly content. The stress of the situation had eased and I was starting to feel like I could enjoy life again.

The physical release of my hookup had been sorely needed, and I was feeling good when I climbed the steps to Maverick Molly’s for my meeting with Jacob and Sebastian.

“Oh, please, keep the cold out!” someone shouted as I stepped inside. I recognized the voice of Robin Webb, Maverick Molly’s most flamboyant server-slash-performer.

“Sorry,” I said, shutting the door and stomping my boots.

“Jacob!” Robin yelled down the hall. “Mr. Barnett is here!”

He turned back and looked me up and down. I might have imagined the saucy lilt to his expression, except that Robin flirted with anyone and everyone who stepped through these doors.

“Mr. Barnett,” Robin said.

“Mr. Webb,” I said, grinning at the curvy man in vintage underclothes that contrasted beautifully with his dark skin. The ‘molly boys’ at the club wore white cotton bloomers, corsets in a variety of shades over cotton chemises, black stockings and little leather booties from another time.

“Oh, now, you don’t have to be so formal. I’m not supposed to use your first name, but you can use mine, you know,” he said with a wink.

“How are you, Robin?” I said, moving past him to the full coat rack.

“Oh, I’m just dandy, Mr. Barnett. How are you?”

I shrugged and luckily found an empty hanger. “Pretty good. I like that shade of eyeshadow. Is there glitter in it?”

Robin batted his lashes. “Of course! And thank you so much, Ange—” He put a hand to his lips. “Mr. Barnett.”

“Do Sebastian and Jacobreallymake you use men’s last names? Is that a hard rule?”

“Oh, Mr. Barnett. It’s a veryhardrule.” Robin winked again, then rolled his eyes and touched his velvet choker. “They say it helps with the historical ambience. People were so bleeding polite back then, you know? Except when they were stabbing you in back alleys.” He scrunched up his face in thought. “Or maybe even then. Who knows?” He shook his head, the lamplight bouncing off his brown curls. “Anyway, I just like your name so much. And I wonder if…”

“What?”

“Well, I just wonder if—”

Jacob Moriarty strode up the hall toward us. “Robin, would you leave poor Mr. Barnett alone? He doesn’t need any of your tomfoolery.”

Robin gave Jacob an amused look. “Tomfoolery?Really?You know we’re not actually living in the Victorian age, right?”

Jacob pointed to the gaming parlor to his right.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in there?”

“Yes, but—”

“Uh uh. I’ll have none of your nonsense tonight, Robin Webb. Get your cheeky British arse in there and serve customers,” Jacob said. His skin was darker than Robin’s, and he loomed over the younger man who was even a little shorter than I was, although Robin had the attitude of someone taller.

Robin put a hand to his chest. “Well!” He stepped forward and gave Jacob a quick kiss on the cheek. “I honestly love it when you’re strict with me.”

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