Page 34 of Draft Pick

“Fuck yeah,” Zayden crowed, practically spilling over with testosterone after our win.

I was ready to cut loose and make some questionable decisions that’ll make for great stories when I’m too old for anyone to believe them.

The Blue Jay was a popular club for the college crowd. We always ended up seeing someone we knew. The bouncers were lax, and fake IDs were plenty, so I steered clear of anyone who didn’t look old enough to be there. Freshman college girls — eighteen and thinking they’re grown — weren’t my style.

Zay, on the other hand, lord help the man, he was going to catch a case one of these days if he wasn’t careful.

Thankfully, Lincoln shared my opinion, and we both spent a lot of energy making sure Zayden didn’t go and do something stupid — which, over the years, had become the full-time job none of us were getting paid for.

Leon, The Blue Jay bouncer, cracked a wide grin as we walked up to the entrance, bypassing the long line, greeting each of us with a bro-friendly hug. “Man, you guys pulled out the win at the last fucking second! I had money riding on that game and I was sweating bullets, but you came through,” he said, stepping aside to let us in. “Enjoy, gentlemen. It’s all good tonight.”

Zay clapped him on the shoulder with the confidence of a man who knew he was the shit, surveying the club scene, ready to start the hunt. “Let’s see…what’ll it be tonight? A blonde? A brunette? Ohhh, a redhead? I do love me some spice. You never know what you’re gonna get when you tangle with the natural ginger.”

“Just make sure she’s old enough to ride the ride,” I quipped, sharing a look with Lincoln, who agreed.

Zayden flashed me a brief scowl as if I was the wet blanket to his picnic and headed for the bar, saying, “Beers all around?” I nodded, and he snapped his fingers and spun on his heel to wind through the crowd.

I turned to Lincoln. “How much you want to bet he gets distracted by some chick and we never see those beers?”

“I’d take that bet. Get a table and I’ll get the beers.”

Solid plan. I loved Zay, but he was flaky as fuck if a female was around. He lost all sense of reason, focus, and accountability, but as my grams used to say, you love people for their flaws, not in spite of them. Maybe that’s how she stomached my dad.

I was still working on that concept.

But tonight was about celebrating. Lincoln returned with our beers — as predicted, Zay was nowhere to be found — and I settled in, enjoying the atmosphere, open to whatever happens.

“You good?” I asked Lincoln, wiping away the foam from my upper lip. It was hard to tell when Lincoln was in his feels because he was naturally quiet and private unless he was on the field, and then he turned into a beast.

“Yeah, all good,” he assured me with a slight grin, and I relaxed. Maybe it was because I was the big brother to my siblings, and that need to look out for everyone in my crew just bled over into my friendships, too.

Zay found us and dropped into an open seat at the table, holding onto his beer without spilling a drop, even though he looked close to being drunk already. “You can thank me later but we’ve just been invited to an exclusive party thanks to yours truly, and I can guarantee you, we’re about to do things that are probably illegal in some states along the Bible Belt.”

That sounded like an STD waiting to happen, but I smiled, enjoying Zay’s enthusiasm for life in all its forms. “I’ll pass but let me know how it goes,” I said.

Zay swiveled his gaze to Lincoln. “What about you, big guy? You down for an experience that will change your religion?”

I expected Lincoln to pass because we all knew he was still hung up on Ursula, but he surprised me when he shrugged, saying, “What the hell, I’m game.”

“Hot damn,” Zay exclaimed, returning to me. “C’mon man, even Linc is down to have some fun. We need you for the trifecta. Let the adoring masses show their appreciation for your skills today.”

I laughed. “Yeah? How the hell did you manage this invite? What did you promise?”

“Hear me out?—”

I was already scared.

“No, no, seriously, hear me out,” Zay protested when he saw my look “twins Cason, TWINS. Two luscious, exquisitely formed examples of female perfection — with flexible morals due to somelikelydaddy issues that we can benefit from. Trust me, chicks like this…they’rewildin bed and open toanything.”

I shook my head, unsure if I needed to slap some sense into him or just let him freefall into the quagmire of debauchery that he loved so much. “Definitely not,” I said, laughing ruefully.

Lincoln agreed, grimacingly adding, “The levels of wrong in that statement are too many to count, bud. I think you might need therapy. I know I do after hearing that drop from your mouth.”

Zay was too tipsy to take offense and shrugged, admitting, “You’re probably right. What can I say, my troubled childhood created less-than-healthy coping mechanisms but a kick-ass sense of humor.”

Both Lincoln and I chuckled, no argument there. Zay was a hilarious motherfucker when he wasn’t creating mayhem for everyone else around him.

Somehow, we talked Zayden into sticking with us instead of traipsing off to ruin his soul, but as we finished our second round, that prick Ulysses found our table. Grabbing a chair and twisting it around with the back facing us, he took a seat with a grin I didn’t trust.

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