Praise (Salacious Players’ Club)
Praise: Chapter 25

Charlotte

“Don’t you think I’m a little old for a piñata?” Sophie asks, while I’m standing on a ladder in the middle of the skating rink.

“Ummm…I’m six years older than you and I’m gonna whack the fuck out of this thing and enjoy every second of it.”

She rolls her eyes. As I climb down, we admire my handiwork.

“I think it looks great!”

“It looks like a giant penis with herpes,” she replies, and I gasp. She’s cracking up as I shove her.

“It’s a mushroom! I worked all night on this.”

“First of all, they’re toadstools, and I think the top part is supposed to be a lot bigger.”

“Well…”

“I’m just kidding.” She laughs, wrapping her arms around me and squeezing me in a bear hug. “I love it.”

“Thanks.” I squeeze her back.

“Besides…we’re going to whack it until stuff comes out right, so it might as well be a pen—”

“Sophie Underwood!” I shriek. “You’re fifteen years old! Watch your mouth.”

She’s cackling as she jogs over to the party table where Mom is setting up the snacks and drinks. My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I fish it out.

“I’m gonna tell Mom what you just said!” I yell to my sister as I swipe open my phone to check my messages.

My heart picks up when I see Emerson’s name. And his message makes me pause for a moment.

I need you to come in immediately.

I quickly type out a reply.

Why? What’s wrong?

I miss you.

We should talk about you working on the weekends. I can’t be expected to read my own emails for two days straight.

My smile stretches across my face, and I know I look like an idiot, standing out here smiling so bright my face hurts.

I’ll come over tonight,

I reply.

What are you doing right now?

I have to think for a moment about how to respond. I’ve talked to Emerson about my personal life, but that was when I was just his employee. Everything’s changed. I shouldn’t be so nervous about sharing a little more with him. It’s not like we’re dating. We’re just exclusively screwing—a lot—and occasionally role playing some kinky secretary stuff.

But with all the screwing and foreplay, it feels strange to bring in regular life stuff. He wants to see me naked and fuck me over his desk, but does he care about my home life or what I do for fun? I want to say he does, but that’s my hope talking.

I’m about to respond with something flirtatious like Thinking of what you did to me yesterday, but that’s not what my fingers type out. Instead, I send him…

Setting up for my little sister’s birthday party at the rink. She turned fifteen today.

It’s quiet for a while. No typing bubbles. No texts or pics.

I take the ladder back to the storage closet and just as I shut the door, my phone vibrates.

What time is the party?

Three. I’ll be done by six, and I’ll head over.

I’m sure my sister will be busy hanging out with her friends. She only has a couple friends whose parents let them come to our house for sleepovers and she invited them both tonight, so I know she’ll be occupied while I sneak out.

Emerson doesn’t answer me back, but the party is about to start, so I hardly notice. Before I know it, I’m handing out skates to her friends and coordinating the hokey pokey on the floor. The rink gets busy on Saturdays, and the perks of being family friends with the owner is we basically get to make the whole place Sophie’s party.

When I look over at her, and I see her bright smile as she sits between two equally quirky girls, I have to bite back the urge to cry. The shit she has had to put up with these past few years is unfair. Bullied at school. Abandoned by her own dad.

I know my sister worries about me, and I wish she didn’t. She saw me through a bad relationship and a long year of feeling like I was a failure. It makes me wonder what she would think of Emerson. Would she approve of him, even if she never knew what goes on behind closed doors? Sure, he treats me like property when I want him to, but when we’re not in a scene, he’s affectionate and loving.

“What are you smiling about?” my mom asks as she brings me a white plastic cup filled with soda.

“Seeing her smile makes me happy,” I say, nodding toward Sophie.

“Yeah, me too.” She turns toward me. “You know…seeing you smile makes me happy too.”

I turn my attention toward my mother. “Of course it does. What’s your point?”

“My point is…you’ve been smiling a lot lately.”

I try to act casual, brush it off. “Well, things are good. My job pays well, Sophie is doing well. You seem less stressed.”

“Uh-huh,” she replies over the brim of her cup.

“What are you getting at?”

“Are you sure there’s not someone…”

“Mom! I literally go to work and come home. Where would I even meet a guy?”

She’s laughing with a sly smile as she tries to hide her face from me. “I’m just sayin’. You have the look of a girl who’s been—”

“I am begging you not to finish that sentence.”

“I’m an ER nurse, Charlie. You think a little sex talk makes me squeamish?”

“Jesus.” I groan, hiding my face in my hands.

While I’m trying to recover from the mortification of my mother telling me I look like I’ve been fucked well, she chimes in with, “Men like that don’t come into the rink often.”

“What?” I ask, lifting my face. My eyes scan the room and my heart skitters to a stop in my chest when I spot Emerson-fucking-Grant waltzing across the skating rink like it’s not the most bizarre thing in the world. “What the—”

For some reason, I duck behind the counter. Shortly after dropping to my knees, I realize hiding was a stupid idea.

“What are you doing? Do you know him?”

If I stay hidden, maybe he’ll leave. Why is he here? It was a big step even telling him about my sister’s party. I sure as hell am not ready for him to meet them! And what about Sophie?

“He’s asking around for you,” my mom adds. “Your aunt Shelley just pointed this way.”

Fuck. Fuck. Act natural, Charlie.

When I stand up, I try to appear casual, but his eyes are immediately on my face. Naturally, in his gaze, I delight in the attention. It’s like sitting under a sun lamp, absorbing the warmth. His mouth quirks up in a small grin.

“Well, hello there,” he says in a casual tone I haven’t ever heard from him.

“Hi,” I stammer awkwardly.

My mom clears her throat, stuck in the crossfire of our locked gazes.

“Oh, Emerson, this is my mom, Gwen. Mom, this is…my boss…Emerson.”

She puts out her hand with an eager smile. “Nice to meet you!”

“The pleasure is mine, Gwen.”

My mother enjoys another long moment of gazing up at Emerson like he’s a national landmark.

Finally, she glances back at me. “I’m going to see if Sophie needs anything,” she says, quickly removing herself from our conversation.

Once she’s out of earshot, I level my glare at Emerson. “What on earth are you doing here?”

He laughs, like he knew this would get me all flustered. Like he likes seeing me rattled. “You said three o’clock. I know I wasn’t invited, but I wanted to see you in your element.”

Okay, that’s really sweet. Fuck, why is he being so sweet? We had a deal: keep it secret and just have our fun when we can. But now he’s met my mother, and he looks so freaking good in that T-shirt and those jeans.

I lean over the lacquered counter and bring my face close to his. “Okay, listen!”

He’s still wearing a smug grin, and I want to punch him and kiss him at the same time.

“I’m Charlie here, not Charlotte, okay? No ‘yes, Sirs’ or secretary bit here.”

“Of course,” he laughs.

It’s ironic to me, being the one to boss Emerson Grant around, but I guess we’re already so out of our element here that anything goes. And he seems to think it’s funny too. Then his gaze falls on my lips. I quickly hold up a finger.

“And none of that. You’re my boss.”

“Do they know…”

“You’re Beau’s dad? No, but I’m sure they’ll replace out eventually.”

His face keeps that light, amused expression with a hint of a smile, and it’s so weird to me. A far cry from the brooding, serious boss I see every day, but I sort of like it. I’ve never really seen this side of Emerson, and it feels like just another part of him I get to myself.

“So, let me meet this birthday girl,” he adds, tapping the countertop. A small sense of worry fills my gut. I trust Emerson, but what if he’s not perfect with her? I have an innate sense of protectiveness over Sophie, but also a fear that if he screws this up, I won’t be able to look at him the same way.

He turns and faces the rink where Sophie and her friends have taken to doing laps around the piñata.

“Let me guess,” he says. “The one with the blue hair?”

I chuckle. “Yep.” I wave at her when she spots us watching, her eyes instantly focus on Emerson. She doesn’t give him the same pensive expression she always gave Beau. Instead, she skates over and rolls right up to the low wall with that bright, freckle-faced smile.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Sophie, this is my…friend, Emerson. Emerson, this is my sister, Sophie.”

I watch his expression as he holds something out toward her. “Happy birthday, Sophie.” It’s a large purple envelope, and I try to imagine him walking down the aisles of a drug store, picking out a birthday card for a fifteen-year-old girl. A smile stretches across my face.

“Thank you!” she beams. “Can I open it?”

“Of course,” he replies.

Sophie tears open the birthday card with purple glittery flowers all over the front and smiles as she reads it. When she opens it, something falls onto the floor. As she’s picking it up, I glare at him with wide eyes, assuming he slipped some cash in there for her.

“You really didn’t have to do th—”

“Oh my god!” Sophie screams.

As she jumps up holding a piece of paper, I ask, “What is it?”

“Two tickets to the Anime Fest!”

“What?” I shriek, grabbing the papers. And they’re not just two regular tickets, they’re two VIP tickets. “Emerson!”

“Thank you so much!” Sophie squeals, bouncing on her skates.

“But…how did you know?” I ask, completely baffled.

“You told me about it when you first started.”

My mouth falls open. I remember that day, when I was rambling on and thought he wasn’t even paying attention. He was actually listening. I have chills running up my arms as I stare at the tickets then look back up at him.

Does he even know how much this means to me? That after having my car fixed, I couldn’t really afford to get the VIP tickets any longer, even with the salary he’s paying me. Does he know that the fact that he listened to me and remembered after all these weeks means more than anything?

Tears spring to my eyes, and I quickly turn, blinking them away.

“What’s this?” my mother asks after hearing Sophie’s reaction. I hand her the tickets and Sophie proudly announces that she’s going to the Anime Fest. And I’m trying to smile and act normal, but I feel his eyes on me, and can’t shake this feeling that while this is all so amazing, and he is so incredibly perfect, on some level, I hate him for it.

I hate him because, at the end of the day, I can’t keep him.