Page 89 of Torrid Little Passion

Avoid them like the plague.

I make my way back over to where Max is waiting, clearly irritated with the fact I have yet to accept his terms. Once I’m seated next to him, he nudges my shoulder, forcing me to look over at him.

“How long are you going to make me wait? Because if you won’t do it, I have to find someone who will. I can’t be alone with her in a room. I’ll end up in jail or—”

“Fine.” I’d already decided I’d take on the project, but watching Max squirm was too hard to resist. Plus, if I’m going to do this for him, he’s in my debt, and I know just how I want to collect. “I want a favor in return, though. New Year’s Eve.”

“What about it?” he asks, looking at me over his shoulder.

“We had a gig that was canceled. We need a new one. The guys are hard up for cash.”

“That explains this place.” Max motions around the room as he speaks, finally turning to fully face me as a gaggle of scantily dressed girls brush past us. “What can I do to help?”

“I’m thinking exclusive concert. At the house. New Year’s Eve. Cover charge. We only invite enough people to cover what we lost on the gig.”

“That could be arranged. Do I have any say on the guest list?”

There’s the Max I know and tolerate. He can’t just agree; he has to have complete control over the situation.

“You can have some input, sure.”

“All I care about is a Cleo free evening. The last thing I want to do is end one year and start the next with her breathing down my neck.”

Whatever the hell happened between them freshman year, he needs to get over it. Or she does. No one gives a shit anymore. When it first started, I’m not going to lie, we were all invested in the situation. Max wouldn’t say what happened, but it was obvious that something had. We tried to get him to talk about it for months to no avail.

And Cleo was always around. She rushed the Zeta house, and we were partnered up with them that year. Max couldn’t avoid her, and she made his life a living hell as often as she could.

But it’s been three years. They need to move on. We’re in our final year of college. What may or may not have happened freshman year is no longer relevant. Or at least it shouldn’t be.

Especially since it’s starting to affect the rest of us. Me, in particular, since I have to meet with her tomorrow.

“I don’t care who you invite or don’t. We need the gig, though. So if you’re cool with the cover charge covering our fee, I’ll deal with Cleo and her feisty attitude.”

“You’re got yourself a deal. Thanks, man.” Max pulls me in for a hug, patting me twice on the back before turning to leave.

“What? Not staying for our set?” I call after him. The bar’s starting to fill up, the scent of body odor now masking the stale beer.

His response is to flip me off over his shoulder as he maneuvers his way toward the door.

I would have expected nothing less from him.