Jocking Jameson: Face-Off Legacy #4 Read online

I nod. “Yeah, all set.”

  The Sixth Floor, a two-story club located on the Philadelphia waterfront, is the hottest spot in town. Colored lights shoot through the white cloud of smoke filling the club. The air is thick, so heavy and dense that it’s hard to breathe.

  I inform the bouncer we’re part of the competition, and he leads our group through the crowded club. It’s an old warehouse converted into a large, open room with long wooden bars on each side and stairs which lead to the VIP area.

  After we say our goodbyes to the men, Bex and Taylor walk next to me behind the bouncer. We navigate a narrow hallway, moving to the right to allow girls with trays of drinks to pass. The bouncer stops in front of a red door at the end of the hall and pushes it open to reveal the dressing room. Girls in short skirts and tank tops flock to the mirrored dressing tables. They take turns applying makeup and fixing their hair.

  Some girls walk around in their panties and no bra. The bouncer stares at the naked girls, holding out his hand for me to enter the room, his eyes not leaving the girls. Already irritated, I blow past him. Bex reads my mind and slams the door in his face.

  The bass thumps through the club, and even in the dressing room, the music vibrates beneath my five-inch heels. Girls are gathered in front of a long row of vanities, forced to share with each other. On nights like these, when the entire Greek community is obliged to come together, the claws come out. Two girls are already fighting over the last can of hairspray.

  “One minute,” a woman yells from the corner of the room with a clipboard in her hand. “Let’s go, ladies.”

  A minute later we’re ushered into the main room of the club, where girls are dancing inside cages suspended from the vaulted ceiling. To win the contest, we have to dance on top of a long mahogany bar at the center of the club. Everyone can see us as we climb onto the bar.

  “No touching!” the bouncer yells at a guy who tries to grab Taylor’s leg.

  Holding on to the pole in front of her, she shakes him off. The bouncer grips him by his shirt and pushes him further into the crowd surrounding us.

  I slide my hand down the metal pole. It’s slick with sweat, the bar wet from drinks spilled on the wood. The announcer says a few words, and then the DJ’s beat fills the club causing the room to come to life. The people below us are dancing and drinking, grinding on each other as we work the poles.

  Abby and Jordan came up with our choreographed routine. It’s the same ass-shaking bullshit they force us to do every time. I love to dance. Most of the time when I cook, I sing and dance, which is why I want to name my bakery Shake-and-Cake. But dancing on bars isn’t the same. This is stupid and degrading.

  I sway my hips from side to side following the lead of my sisters. We have to win. Abby will never let us live this night down if we don’t come in first place. The song is almost over, so close to the finish line when a girl in our group trips and falls forward. She tumbles into the arms of a tall, dark-haired guy I recognize—Preston Parker.

  Shit, I think when I see Bex in front of him.

  She just cost us the prize, and for that, Abby will have my head. I glance down the bar at Abby, who has an angry scowl plastered on her face. She orders the rest of us to finish the song pretending as if Bex didn’t kill our shot at winning. My sisters and Taylor do as she says even though we know it’s over.

  Once the song ends, another group of girls exit the dressing room to take our places. We’re expected to hop down from the bar, thrown into the mass of people who are now reaching for us. Strange fingers slide down my arms, and I cringe from the feeling of their skin against mine.

  Eventually, I hit a wall, my hands landing on a man’s chiseled chest, rock hard from his bulging muscles. Staring up at him, I smile when I look into his eyes.

  Jamie’s expression mirrors mine. “You were awesome,” he says. “And you looked fucking hot.” He takes my hand and rubs it over the front of his jeans to feel his bulge. “This is what you do to me, Shan.”

  “Still thinking with the wrong head,” I quip.

  “When you’re wearing this,” he says, fingering the thin strap of my skimpy tank top that rides up my stomach. “How can I think with any other head?” His eyes fall over my body to my bare thighs and the tiny spandex shorts which are barely covering my ass.

  Taylor taps me on the shoulder. “Hey, where did Bex go? Have you seen her?”

  I scan the crowded club searching the space where Bex and Preston were a minute ago. Turning to face her, I shake my head. “They were just here.”

  “Probably went back to the house,” Jamie says.

  Taylor looks annoyed. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah,” he says without hesitation.

  “Did Bex say something to you?”

  Jamie shakes his head. “No, I know Preston. We have a signal.”

  Taylor’s face scrunches in anger. “But we came here together… I can’t believe Bex didn’t say anything to me.”

  Drake appears at her side and clamps his big hand on her shoulder, his large frame invading the space around us. “I can take you home.”

  Taylor shakes him off, staring up at Drake as if he has a disease. Do they have a history together? She seems awfully annoyed with him. Or maybe it’s the fact her friend bailed on her without another thought. I would be mad too.

  “I can Uber it back to campus,” Taylor says to Drake.

  “Don’t be stupid,” he says. “I can drive you.”

  “Don’t call me stupid.” She snarls at him and then slips through the crowd with Drake chasing behind her.

  “What’s up with them?” I ask Jamie.

  He shrugs. “Beats me. I don’t think they ever hooked up.”

  “Taylor doesn’t seem to like Drake all that much.”

  “She’s probably heard all the rumors about him and has enough sense to stay away.”

  “What rumors?”

  “I’m surprised none of your sorority sisters have told you… or shown you.” I stare at him confused, and he continues, “Drake sends dick pics to just about every girl on campus. I’m surprised there’s not a SnapChat account dedicated solely to his dick.”

  I shake my head, laughing. “That’s gross. What kind of girl would go for that?”

  “You’d be surprised.” Jamie extends his hand to me, and I weave my fingers between his. “I know you would never go for that.”

  “True, but I wouldn’t be opposed to seeing your dick pop up on my phone.”

  Jamie winks. “I’d rather show it to you in person.” He wraps his arms around me, his muscles squeezing me tight against his chest.

  Dipping his head, he brushes his lips against my earlobe. He must know I love it when he does this because he does it often. His erection digs into my back as we dance, his hands falling to my hips. We rock to the music allowing the beat to take over.

  I still have no idea where this is going between us, and I don’t want to act like a girl and ask. The more time I spend with Jamie, I want to be his. I want to be his girlfriend. He makes me feel special and wanted as if I’m the only girl in the world. No one has ever made me feel this way, and I want it to last.

  Chapter Ten

  Jamie

  Shannon is sound asleep, a soft purr escaping from her lips. She looks peaceful curled up with two pillows. Her dark hair fans out around her head. Delicate curves peek out from beneath the covers.

  I’m getting used to having her in my bed. I like having Shannon around more than I would’ve thought. Over the past few weeks, we’ve become so much more than friends. She spends a lot of nights with me. I never even saw it coming, not after everything I went through over the summer.

  Shannon was right under my nose all along, and I overlooked her because I was still in love with Cece. And now, I’m making room in my heart and my life for Shannon.

  I slide off the mattress, careful not to wake her. It’s five o’clock in the morning, the entire house is sleeping off their hangovers. Preston and Bex went at it f
or most of the night. At one point, I started to wonder if we were in a competition for who could wake the house first. Drake wasn’t as lucky. No matter how much chasing after Taylor he did, I doubt he even got a kiss.

  Sinking into the chair in front of my computer desk, I tap the mouse to wake the four monitors in front of me. I quickly dim the screens and turn them away from my bed. Shannon knows about The Queen. We’ve talked a little bit about her harassment of my teammates. But I don’t want her to know how obsessed I am with this girl.

  She’s a true hacker, a skilled coder who has my full attention. Every chance I get, I attempt to narrow down her location. Any time I get too close, The Queen finds some way to block me. I love the hunt, and I wonder if she knows it. Because it seems too convenient that she always lets me go so far.

  I log in to my server and flip through a few tabs until I find the correct browser. Technically, what I’ve been doing to find The Queen breaks a few laws, but I’m good at covering my tracks. My fingers glide across the keyboard, and as I go through the motions, I finally hit a dead end. Another firewall prevents me from passing through—or is it something else?

  The green text on the black screen disappears, and as it does, anxiety creeps into my chest. I enter a few recovery codes, doing everything I can think of to make it stop. And then the green cursor blinks in the middle of the screen. I stare at it and then attempt to type. None of the keys work. The commands I enter don’t appear on the screen.

  What the fuck is going on? I have no way of controlling my own system, and now I know I have gone too far. Maybe Preston was right. Should I ask my dad for help? He’d never have allowed someone to attack his server. Thankfully, mine isn’t connected to his in any way.

  After a few more seconds, the cursor stops flashing. What appears to be an ancient video game appears. It reminds me of Doom, one of the most iconic first-person shooter video games from the nineties. Except this is a custom design, a lookalike of the original with several modifications. Whoever is orchestrating this attack wants me to play. So I do.

  I fight droves of demons as I make my way through the first level. Blood splatters with each demon I kill, satanic imagery present throughout the fictional world. There are elements in this game that remind me of The Fallen Universe my father created. My dad was inspired by the classics. Doom and Diablo are two of the games he’s publicly mentioned over the years.

  Whoever coded this game must know that because I see so much of those games infused with parts of The Fallen worlds. I enter a dungeon, one that reminds me of those I’ve seen in Diablo. The more I play, the more I see how much Mage Wars is like both of these games.

  Does this person want me to know something? Was my dad more than inspired by these games? He would never. I know deep down in my soul that his worlds are his and his alone. Yes, there are similarities. The same can be said of any creative product on the market. Even the most popular books have others like them.

  I’m about to fight the last battle when demons ambush me. Hitting the buttons as fast as I can, I do my best to shoot and dodge, but my efforts are worthless. Because the owner of this game never planned to let me pass. That would mean granting me access when all they have done is keep me from the truth.

  This is The Queen’s doing. I must have gotten closer to her this time. Grunting and yelling at the screen, my fingers move faster. I work even harder to reach the next level, and then I’m hit, one after the other until my character is dead. The game slowly fades until the screen turns black. Deep red blood runs from the top of the screen dripping down the center where it begins to form words.

  It spells out, You Lose, Jamer.

  Fucking bitch. How is The Queen this good? And how does she know my screen name? Only gamers and hackers from my inner circles know who I am.

  “Everything okay?” Shannon is standing behind me. She’s so quiet I had no idea she was awake.

  I spin the chair around to face her. “Yeah. Sorry if I woke you. It’s early. You should go back to bed.”

  She shoves her hair behind her ears and yawns. “What are you doing?”

  I grip her hips and pull her down to sit on my lap. “Looking for The Queen.”

  “Oh.” She sounds surprised. “How come?”

  “So, I can shut down her website. So, I can make her pay for the shit she’s doing to my friends. We lost our last game because everyone on our team is fighting. And it all started with her.”

  “What does she have against you guys?”

  “I honestly have no idea. We assume one of us dated her. Maybe more than one…” I stop myself, realizing how douchey that sounds. “I’ve been looking for her since the first edition of Dethroned. I was hoping she’d quit, but I should’ve known better. I should’ve found her by now.”

  She presses her palm to my shoulder and smiles. “You’re the smartest guy I know, Jamie. If anyone can find her, it’s you.”

  “She’s beating me,” I admit. “Always one step ahead.”

  “Maybe you just need to find the reason for her hatred.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek, thinking over her words. “How do you suggest I do that?”

  “Can you catfish her somehow?”

  I laugh in her ear without meaning to.

  Shannon smacks me on my bare arm, and it stings a little. “Don’t laugh at me, Jamie. It’s not a bad idea. Isn’t there some way to use your super nerd skills to lure her into a trap?”

  I consider her question. “Yeah, I guess.”

  “This is a first,” she coos, running a hand through my hair to push it off my forehead. “I’ve never seen you so unsure of yourself.”

  I stare into her green eyes and my pulse races, my heart slamming into my rib cage. She’s beautiful and smart, sexy without even trying, and I’ve never liked her as much as I do right now. She just called me out on my shit. I’m acting like a scared boy running away from a girl.

  The Queen is another coder with legit skills. But I’m better. I just have to act like it.

  * * *

  Two days later, we’re hanging out in the living room of our house when our cell phones ding with a notification from the Dethroned app. A look of horror crosses each of our faces. Who will The Queen dethrone next? A chill rolls down my spine as I open the app to read her latest post.

  Dethroned

  November Edition

  Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the douchiest of them all? This week’s D-Bag Award was supposed to go to Preston Parker, Mr. MVP and captain of the men’s ice hockey team, for his scandalous affair with his coach’s daughter. But the Kane twins have stolen the throne. Their latest shenanigans make you wonder…. can two princes share one crown? Or in this case, one girl?

  Trent and Tucker Kane, you have been dethroned.

  XO,

  The Queen

  I breathe a sigh of relief that I have escaped her wrath. Not like I ever do anything particularly memorable to land on her blog. Still, I have to keep my nose clean and out of her line of sight. My dad’s company and reputation are on the line. So is mine.

  “Fucking bitch,” Preston yells, throwing his phone across the living room. It hits a pillow on the couch next to me. “If Coach Bryant finds out about Bex and me before I get the chance to tell him, he’s gonna flip the fuck out.”

  “Then, man up and tell him,” Drake says.

  Preston tugs at the ends of his hair. “I will. Eventually.”

  Two weeks ago, Trent and Tucker were hooking up with the same girl. In their defense, they both liked her and had no idea they were seeing her individually. Jemma won’t speak to either of them. She’s what Shannon calls her Little Sister, a term used in her sorority. Trent clearly likes this girl more, and Tucker is being an asshole and fighting him. Knowing Tucker, he moved on the second after he fucked her. Trent isn’t wired like him. They might share looks, but they don’t have the same personality.

  Trent stares at his phone, re-reading the blog post over again while shaking his
head at the screen. I feel bad for him. Tucker loves the attention and probably couldn’t care less that he’s been the star of the last two monthly editions of Dethroned.

  Where’s she getting her information? Only our inner circle knew about Trent and Tucker hooking up with Jemma. And I doubt she’d tell a soul. Jemma was mortified when she found out she had sex with identical twins without knowing it.

  “You’re missing the point,” Preston growls at Drake. “This girl, The fucking Queen, is going to ruin our lives if we don’t stop her.”

  “I still can’t track her IP address.” I kick my feet up on the coffee table separating us. “She’s good, whoever she is.”

  My friends don’t understand the technical aspect, so there’s no point in filling them in on the details. The Queen is becoming a real thorn in my side. I can’t sleep most nights knowing a girl is getting the best of me.

  “Ask your dad, then,” Preston snaps.

  I shake my head, insulted by his request. “No way. I’m not getting him involved. I can do it. Just give me some time.”

  For starters, my dad doesn’t need to know about The Queen. I also don’t want him to know how hard of a time I’m having breaking through her firewalls. He’d be disappointed. I learned everything I know from him, and she’s testing all of it. Every time I hit a wall, she’s there to laugh in my face. And some part of me respects her for the challenge.

  “That’s what you said last month,” Preston says. “Just make the call. If you don’t, then I will.”

  I glare at Preston, and he crosses his arms over his chest. The vibe in the room is miserable. We’re all sporting scowls and mad at each other for no reason. The Queen started this, and because of her, our team is feeling the pain. Our game is off, mostly affected by the incident with the twins and Jemma. Somehow, they have managed to rub their bad moods off on all of us over the last few weeks.

  We lost our last game. Tucker still hasn’t found a tutor and will most likely fail and get kicked off the team. Trent looks at his own twin as if he hates him. Preston has been up my ass more than ever. He’s like a woman on her period and stressing all of us out.