Smolder (Georgia Smoke #6)

• Three •

I always started out having bad luck, and once they got drunk enough, my luck always turned.

Royal

Opening the faded burgundy canvas carrier bag that I’d bought at a consignment shop last year, I pulled out two papers on religion and its influence on Colonial America as Petra approached me. Her silky, long, dark brown hair swung back and forth from the high ponytail she had it in, and her brown eyes glinted with mischief.

I’d met Petra through her boyfriend, Spence. They were your typical Greek life students, but even if I didn’t do their papers for them, I’d like them.

“God, you are a lifesaver,” she said when she reached me. “I completely forgot we had this stupid essay.”

I handed her both papers. “Not a problem. I already had Spence’s finished when you texted. It didn’t take much time to get yours done. You are focusing heavily on the family values of the religion, and Spence pushed the political side of it in his.”

She groaned. “Ugh, I hate this class. Who gives a shit about Colonial America?”

I did. I found it interesting, but I decided to keep that to myself.

“Here,” she said, sliding the money into my hand.

“Thanks.”

She put the papers into her Louis Vuitton backpack, then glanced up at me. “Are you going to the Alpha Epsilon Tau party tomorrow night?”

Yes, but not the way she thought I was.

“Milo mentioned it,” I told her.

Milo was my in with the Epi Taus and a couple of other fraternities on this campus and the university in town. He handled the planning of the card games, and then I showed up to play. I’d met him the summer after I graduated high school. He’d come into Railhouse, and I’d won some money off him at a game of pool. But instead of being mad about it, he was impressed.

Then, he asked me how good I was at Texas Hold’em.

When I told him I wasn’t too bad, he laughed and invited me to a game. Not a friendly one or a legal one. An underground one that they had on campus, even during the summer, in the basement of the Alpha Epsilon Tau house. That night, he watched me take everyone’s money.

Since then, he’d been setting up the games, in which he also played for twenty percent of my winnings. The more the rich frat boys drank, the sloppier they got, making it even easier. I always started out having bad luck, and once they got drunk enough, my luck always turned.

“Merce mentioned you last night,” she said, watching me warily, as if the mention of Merce Dancastle’s name was going to send me into a spiral.

“That’s a shame,” I replied, putting my bag strap back on my shoulder. “I’d have thought he had better things to talk about.”

Petra grinned. “I want to be you when I grow up.”

No, she did not. She’d never survive without her daddy’s money.

“You should strive for higher goals,” I replied, causing her to laugh.

“That right there—you’re a complete badass who happens to be gorgeous. You don’t need anyone. I think it’s why he loves you,” she said, then paused. “He does, you know … love you.”

Merce had proven he did not love me more than once. But I again said nothing.

“I gotta get to Social Theory,” I told her, glad my building was behind me and I could escape this conversation.

“See you tomorrow night then?” she asked as I started to walk away.

For a few minutes possibly, but I never actually stayed upstairs at the party. I was only ever there for the game.

“Yeah,” I called out with a wave.

The one thing I dreaded about tomorrow was seeing Merce. I hadn’t seen him since he’d broken it off with me two weeks ago. With the gambling ring starting back up, I’d be forced to run into him, possibly play a game or more with him.

Merce was the president of Alpha Epsilon Tau. Just like his brother and father before him.

The Dancastles were a powerful political family. His father’s upcoming reelection campaign was why he’d broken up with me. I wasn’t the kind of girl he needed attached to his name. His father had told him to end it with me, so he did.

During the eight months that we had dated, I’d never been to his house or met his parents. He kept me completely separate from them.

It hadn’t really dawned on me that he had kept me a secret until I saw a picture of him and Opal Dalton, the governor of South Carolina’s daughter, at a benefit gala in DC this past weekend on the Campus Happenings website and socials. The speculation that the two were dating was an actual article. It wasn’t as if I wanted to be photographed and have my love life shared with the world, but I realized that he had never intended for us to be more. Why he had pursued me so hard for more than a year before I gave in and went on that first date with him was beyond me.

He hadn’t hurt me, not really. It stung my pride. But that was about it. I hadn’t been in love with Merce. We just had fun. Then, he’d ended it. Which was for the best.

It was hard to have a relationship and survive my life. I had to stay focused.

This semester, I was taking more classes than allowed—for a student who was actually enrolled. But the more classes I attended, the more essays and papers I could write. I needed the money.

Tad, one of the football players I had met last semester in one of my classes, waved me down before I reached the door to the building. I stayed put while he jogged over to me. We had one class together this semester—History of Ideas.

“Hey, Royal,” he called as he slowed to a stop. “I lost your number. Got a new phone over the summer. My old one was sacrificed in the ocean—long story, but beer was involved,” he said with a grin.

“Sounds tragic,” I replied.

He chuckled. “Yeah, kinda was. I’ve been looking for you. By the time class was over, you were gone, and I need help.”

“The philosophy distribution of ideas paper,” I said, already knowing that was what he was going to say.

He nodded. “Yes. I have no fucking idea what Page is talking about. She scares me, looking out of those glasses with that disapproving scrunch of her nose.”

Professor Page was one of the best at the college. She had been teaching here for over thirty years. I was pretty sure she was aware I wasn’t a student here, but she never said anything.

“It’s gonna be two fifty. That’s not an easy assignment, and it takes a good deal of research,” I told him.

He nodded. “Sure, yeah, anything. If you don’t do it for me, I’ll fail, and I need this scholarship.”

He was here because he was talented at catching a ball and running. Nothing more. I liked him and all, but I did wonder what his GPA had been in high school. There seemed to be little knowledge swirling around in that head of his.

“It’s due in two weeks. I’ll have it to you two days before,” I assured him.

“You’re the best,” he said, then opened the door for me. “See you later,” he added as I walked inside.

In response, I lifted a hand in a wave and hurried to get to my next class.