Girls' Night Out (Bad Boys) by Susan Arden

snorted.
    “You planned on showing up to a Friday night bash?” Brett asked. “As in stag?”
    “If you say you’re going, I’ll do my best to get over there,” Rich said. “If Marcie thinks I’m out with you, she won’t give me rash of shit. She thinks you’re one of the good guys.”
    “Even with the newspaper report about the bar fight?” Brett peeled off his jersey and started to unlace his pads. He refused help from one of the locker assistants, preferring to deal with undressing and cutting away the yards of tape binding his pads and body, especially when his hammered shoulder throbbed painfully. He didn’t need his name included on any injury reports that might get him benched.
    “It was in a regular bar, not some strip joint, so yeah.” Rich waved to a few other players.
    “Where’s the place?” Brett clenched his jaw at the rolling in his gut that told him this plan had ‘bad idea’ written all over it.
    “Starting out at Venzie’s, then closing down Firefly’s. Mike likes the rooms upstairs.”
    “Did he book a floor this time?” Brett asked, wondering how Rich knew so much about these bashes considering he was married and seemed to be happy. He wasn’t about to ask, though.
    “Yeah, more, I think. I heard he tried to get the complete hotel but they’re booked for years in advance,” Rich supplied. “I’d better run. Just stopped by to shoot the shit with my old team. Later. If you reconsider, just stop by.”
    “Thanks. Don’t think so.” Brett preferred staying alone during the holidays. Being with other people intensified the hollow feeling he couldn’t shake. He got lost easy enough in a crowd of people he knew. At times, he felt more at home with strangers at a bar.
    His father, an enlisted soldier, had died when he was barely five, and his mother refused to remarry. A vibrant woman who had been an actress for years. Alberta Gold. She’d returned to the stage and traveled with him in tow as a child. He’d seen most large continental cities in the United States several times over by middle school and toured Europe, South America, and Asia until his mom began experiencing tremors and weakness in her legs. She was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis and he’d moved her into around-the-clock care right before he’d gotten engaged to Daniella.
    Brett finished showering and returned to the deserted locker room. Brett sat down in front of his locker.
    “You and I are probably the only players without a tether.” Farb, the punter, broke the silence from a couple of lockers away.
    “I’d rather have it this way. Sometimes, at least.” He stepped into his trousers and stood up to slip on his shirt.
    “You crashing back at your place, or you up for some fun?” Farb slammed his locker shut.
    “What are you thinking?” Brett asked. Alone without the hype of the press and other players, it was easier to think straight.
    “I know a couple of places. Get ready. I’ve got a driver for the night. So no worries about getting pulled over.”
    “A man with a plan,” Brett muttered. “Let’s have at it.”
    Farb pulled on a pair of sunglasses. “Buckle up. This ride is guaranteed to get rough.”
     
    ~~~
     
    Fuck, the ceiling expanded and contracted as Brett struggled to open his eyes. He was still drunk from last night. A soft groan came from his mouth as he sat up in the bed where he’d landed. A generic hotel room and he was alone. Then a ton of messed up memories sliced into his awareness. He and Farb had ended up at a strip club. The remnants of the night included a half empty bottle of Scotch by the bedside and a headache the size of Mars burning inside his brain. At least he didn’t have to wake a woman and make excuses. If at all possible, his hookups were never more than one-night stands. The look of hope in a woman’s eyes wasn’t something he enjoyed crushing. Best to fuck then leave, and not have to deal with the morning after crap.
    His phone rang and he