Page 40 of The Players

I waved back at Randy. She flashed her headlights twice and then began to pull away.

Walking up the long driveway, I had far too much time to think about what Easton might say to me. The moments we’d had after the game yesterday morning were so strange and out of character, I didn’t know what to expect.

A woman opened the door when I knocked. I hadn’t seen her before, but she gave me a disapproving glare while she held the massive wooden door open. Walking inside, I glanced around the two-story entryway, dazzled by the wealth and the gleam off the shiny tile floors.

“Easton is upstairs,” the woman said blandly.

“Thanks,” I said, not waiting for a reply. She was disappointed to see me. Did she know who I was? Would she tell Mr. Hill when he got home? I’d forgotten about the servants tattling or the cameras that had me on CCTV footage from the minute I stepped foot on the property. Yet, I’d been here before. Maybe Easton had a way of covering those things up.

Either way, I was messing this up already, but it was too late to turn back now. I scuttled up the stairs and tried to remember which door was Easton’s. Luckily, I didn’t have to. He was standing on the landing, peering down at me as I climbed.

I tried to read the look on his face. There was some surprise there, but were the raised eyebrows signaling annoyance or pleasure? And if he was happy to see me was that because he liked my company or because he was bored and wanted to toy with me?

I didn’t know him well enough to tell.

“What are you doing here?” he said, leaning against the railing. He was wearing a graphic T-shirt from some band I’d never heard of and athletic shorts. It was almost startling to see him so casually dressed. His patented look consisted of pressed slacks, ironed button-downs, or an Academy uniform, so this was a look I didn’t know how to process. He was also sweaty and tousled, something I didn’t want to find extremely attractive.

He noticed me looking. “You caught me right after a workout. I didn’t know I should be expecting my ‘lab partner.’” His eyebrow arched. Would he give me away to the maid? But, instead, he turned on his heel, said, “This way,” and continued down the hall.

Nervous, I followed.

I’d seen the hallway during my wild escape the day before, but this time I took a moment to look at it. There were no framed family photos on the walls like at my house. The only works of art were paintings of dark swirls or bold lines that gave the house a barely-lived-in quality. I’d felt that in the guest room I’d awoken in, but it seemed to continue throughout the house as well. Everything was staged, from the vase on a pedestal in the center of the hallway to the crystal chandelier that hung from the foyer ceiling. The house even smelled empty. Mine always smelled like baked goods or my grandmother’s foot cream. I’d given anything for a little of that right now.

Easton either didn’t notice or didn’t mind. He picked the third door on the left, opened it, and slipped inside. I followed him into his room.

Here, at least, the house had some life. There was a pile of dirty laundry on a chair, an unmade king-sized bed, and a giant big-screen TV. He had every gaming system in a cabinet beneath it. A high-end laptop sat on a glass and metal desk under a huge bay window that looked out onto the patio and pool area. We’d been out there not too long ago. It was then I realized I was getting quite the lay of the land here. How strange to think I’d come to Easton Hill’s house more than Randy’s these days.

Easton pushed the clothes from the leather armchair on the ground and sat in it, leaning back like he was already bored of a conversation we hadn’t started having. He didn’t offer me a place to sit, so I found my own seat by grabbing his computer chair and swinging it over.

“What is this?” he asked. “Are you now obsessed with me? Didn’t get enough the first time?”

I shook my head. I’d run over scenarios of how I would start and what might be the best way to approach these sensitive topics, but I figured being direct was the best way. I sighed and clasped my hands together. “I need your help.”

He laughed and rubbed his knuckles over his cheek. There was stubble growing on his normally clean-shaven cheeks, and it only added to the casualness of his appearance.

The way he was responding, though, wasn’t giving me a lot of hope.

“You needmyhelp?Mine?”

“Yes.”

“Boy, you must be desperate.” He put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “And tell me why I would help you again?”

“Because you owe me.”

He laughed again. “I don’t owe you shit.”

“Yes, you do,” I said, fixing him with my gaze. “I know you feel bad about what you did to me, about how you almost killed me in that coffin.”

He started to protest, but I held my hand out and cut him off. To my surprise, he let me. “I can tell because of how you’re acting. You are more careful with me. You don’t like how Savannah’s been treating me. You have a conscience, and it’s eating you alive.”

He frowned, his face hard. “What if I don’t feel bad? What if I’m a sociopath who didn’t give a shit if you died?”

“Then you wouldn’t have broken the aquarium. Then you would have left my body on the race track when Savannah hit me on the head last night. But you didn’t do either of those things, Easton, did you?”

He sat back in his chair as if to distance himself from me. “I am so sick of Savannah.”

“Right,” I said. It was my turn to lean forward. I gripped the arms of the chair as my heart sped up. “I’m sick of her, too. So let’s work together to get rid of her.”

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