Page 1 of Sully

CHAPTER ONE

Sully

“What the fuck is this?” Fallon asked, whipping the clipboard off the bar.

“A petition,” I called from the couch, eating fruity sugar cereal out of the popcorn bowl with a ladle. The prospects hadn’t loaded the dishwasher, and I wasn’t about to set a bad precedent by doing their chores for them. Not that I did those chores myself as a prospect, but, hey, that was Brooks’s problem, not mine.

“I see that,” Fallon said, flipping through the pages of signatures. They did include some of the club members, the princesses, and some of the kids of the club. But I may or may not have padded the pages with some of the club girls. And a few people I crossed paths with in the bar and grocery store. “For what?”

“Says right there at the top. An APG.”

“Right. And what the fuckisan APG?”

“A fully fun and immersive experience that I think will improve the morale of the entire club.”

Fallon shot me a furrowed brow.

He knew me too well at this point.

“I’m not approving shit until I know what it is,” Fallon said as Brooks made his way into the club, his keen gaze moving around the disaster area that was the common room.

What can I say? We’d had fun the night before. The kind of fun that meant everyone dragged their asses to bed—alone or with company—everyone too wasted or worn out to clean anything up.

“What’s an APG?” Fallon asked Brooks as he sighed and pulled a large trash can out from behind the bar and started to toss the red cups in.

“Seriously?” Brooks asked, looking over at me.

“I’m surprised you’re surprised by anything I do at this point,” I said, getting a snort out of Brooks.

“That’s fair enough. It’s an acronym for ‘adult playground’,” Brooks explained.

“Man, if that’s some sort of sex thing—“

“Surprisingly, it’s not,” Brooks said. “It’s actually just what it sounds like.”

“A playground. You want to build a playground? Don’t we already have one of those?”

“There’s a weight limit on those swings,” I said. “And the slides are too short.”

“Let me get this straight,” Fallon said, exhaling hard. “You wanted a pool. I approved a pool. You wanted a hot tub. You have that. And now you want fucking swings?”

“And a slide,” I agreed. “Besides, APGs aren’t just for fun. They’re for fitness too. And it is in the club’s best interest to keep us all in tip-top shape. You know, heart disease—“

“Christ,” Fallon sighed, then looked over at Brooks. “Is there room for it?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there anything about this that might come back and bite me in the ass?”

“Not that I can think of,” Brooks said, and we all knew he was the guy who was always looking for the worst-case scenario. That was what Fallon hired him for.

“And you’ll check over the final plans to make sure I won’t regret this shit?”

“Yep,” Brooks agreed.

“Then… go ahead. But I don’t want to hear any bitching and moaning when you burn your ass on a hot slide or fall off a swing and break a rib.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” I said, saluting him with my ladle.

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