Chapter 5
The BBB
Camille
Upper East Side, 8:00 PM.
The second Piper swung her apartment door open and saw me, her jaw fell. Stunned, she ran her eyes up and down my body.
“Damn, girl! You look hot!”
Self-consciously, I held my clutch over my boobs. “Is it too much?”
Normally when Piper drags me to the clubs against my will, I protest in the only way I can: by wearing jeans and a t-shirt. But tonight I actually took a little time to do up my hair and face and wore a racy dress that was perfect for the upscale, snooty kind of club that I'm sure Beau and all his millionaire hockey buddies frequent.
“Too much? Hell no! Beau's going to be drooling all over himself when he sees you.”
I made a face. “Ew. First of all—that's not what I want.”
“Right,” Piper said with a wink. She waved me into her apartment and handed me an already-prepared mixed drink. The glass had been sweating while it waited for me. “Here you go. I'm already a couple deep, so you got some catching up to do.”
“Seriously though. I know what you're thinking. And you're wrong.” I took a sip of the vodka-cranberry. The dry tartness clawed at the back of my throat.
“And what am I thinking?”
“That I have this deep-seated need to impress Beau, all stemming from this unresolved sexual tension and conflict between us.”
Piper tapped her chin. “Er. No, but it sounds like you've put a lot of thought into this.”
I huffed. “I only dressed up like this to make sure I can get into that club. Getting rejected at the door because I'm not sexy enough? I'd be so mortified, I'd die. And that's probably exactly what Beau is hoping for.”
Piper bit her lip. “God, I am loving this timeline.”
“What timeline? What the heck does that mean?”
“The timeline in which you had a secret love affair with an athlete, who went on to become a famous NHL player, and he has now reappeared in your life, and you two are both totally about to screw and reclaim your love, but you're still stuck in extreme denial over it.”
I laughed. “Trust me, Piper, that's absurd. You don't know the story. If you did, you'd understand.”
With drink in hand, Piper curled up on her couch and patted the cushion next to her. “Come, child, and tell me everything. I've waited long enough.”
I sat on the leather couch next to her and sighed. “Nothing happened, first of all. So you can stop hinting that we dated or screwed or whatever.”
“Did you have a crush on him?”
I huffed and puffed. “Okay—I mean—look.”
Piper snickered. “He's hot, Camille, you can admit it.”
“Then yeah—of course! Of course I thought he was cute! Every girl in school had a crush on Beau Bradford. And that was exactly the problem! It all went to his head. Before everyone started pumping his tires about what a great hockey player he was going to be, he was actually a sweet, shy boy, believe it or not. But hell, Beau was only 12 years old when the so-called experts in the hockey world started writing articles that he might be 'the next big thing' in hockey. Suddenly, you couldn't open the local newspaper without seeing his picture or reading about his conquests on the ice. Don't you know that all that hype and fame can turn a young boy into an egomaniac? And it's such a shame, too. He really was a quiet, nice boy before they got to his head.”
Piper's bottom lip jutted out. She saw my point, crystal clear.
“Then, in high school, he basically had a new girlfriend every week. The question on the tip of everyone's tongue was: 'who's Beau Bradford dating now?' Who cares, if you would've asked me. But whoever Beau dated, she became queen of the school … until he dumped her for the next one.”
Piper nodded. “I can imagine.”
“In fact, it got so bad, that all the girls in school formed the 'Beau Bradford Bandwagon'.”
She giggled. “What's that?”
“His so-called fan club. A few popular girls painted 'BBB' on their back-packs with white-out, and the rest was history. Before long, they built a website dedicated to him—a digital shrine, where girls could upload their candid pictures of him looking hot in class, or muscular and tan at the pool, or really sweaty during a work-out, or scoring goals on the ice. But the main draw of the site was the 'Girlfriend' section, where all the girls anonymously pooled their gossip about who Beau was dating and who he might be interested in next.”
Piper's eyes lit up. “So are you on that website?”
“Are you kidding? No way. I kept to myself. I was too busy focusing on my school work.”
“So, okay, you're not in the Triple B club. What happened next? There has to be a reason why's it so personal between you guys.”
“I dunno. Once he broke out of his shell in middle school, he became this huge jerk. It was almost like he went from being afraid to get in trouble to, well, looking for trouble. And yeah, that's when he started picking on me. He'd call me goody two shoes and little miss perfect and roll his eyes whenever I volunteered an answer in class. He made me feel like I should be ashamed because I was a good student, because it wasn't cool.”
“Oh, you mean, the same way a boy that age always does when he has a crush on a girl?” Piper asked, obviously implying that was the case with Beau and I.
“Not the same, Piper.” I shook my head defiantly. “Plus, he was a total thorn in my side when I decided I wanted to go by Camille instead of Rachel. He refused to call me Camille, just like you saw at the bakery. And since everyone in school followed Beau's lead, I stayed 'Rachel' in everyone's eyes, all throughout high school. That was annoying as hell.”
“Okay, I can see that. Still, it kinda sounds like he had a thing for you.”
I chuckled. “Then why would he always loudly proclaim that I wasn't the sweet, smart, quiet girl everyone thought I was?”
“Whaaat?”
“Yeah. He'd swear up and down that I had this dark side. I didn't get it. It was so random, but it infuriated me.”
“That's definitely weird.” Piper paused and gave me a stare. “And you're sure you have no idea why he'd say something like that?”
After a long pause, I sighed.
“Okay, I should admit one thing. But I doubt it's related.”
Piper rubbed her hands together gleefully. “Oh, I bet it is.”
“After the BBB website was started, someone came along and started a site that was anti-BBB. It was called the Beau Bradford Blandwagon. It was written to be a satire of the fan-club, and poked fun at the cult of celebrity surrounding him. It had jokes about how dumb it was that everyone glorified him, when really, he just happened to be good at shooting a rubber disc into a net. I mean really, so what? Who cares? He wasn't going to solve the world's problems or anything like that. He was good at a sport. The end.”
Piper's knowing eyes narrowed into slits. “And you—”
I gave a nod. “And yes, I'm the one who started that site.”
“Camille!” Piper burst out with laughter. “That's such a bitch move!”
“But the site was anonymous, Piper. There's no way he could've known it was me. Anyone could've written it. And the site was only up for a few months before I deleted it. I doubt anyone even saw it but my small group of friends. So I really doubt that's what this whole thing is about.”
She threw her arms into the air. “Of course that's what it's about! You injured his pride!”
I covered my mouth and giggled. I was amused, but equally ashamed. “You really think so?”
“Yes!”
But no matter how much I tried to, I couldn't believe it. “He would've said something.”
“He did! He said you had a dark side. Which, by the way, you apparently do.” Piper choked back laughter.
“But Beau's no stranger to confrontation. He would've said something more directly if he knew it was me.”
“Maybe he was just testing you to see if you were the guilty party? Who knows.” Piper rose from the couch and stretched. “Anyway. We should probably get ready to go, dude.”
“Yeah, alright.” I finished my drink and stood.
While Piper ran to her bedroom, I gave myself one last nervous stare in the bathroom mirror.
A moment later, Piper appeared in the mirror behind me. She put her hands on my shoulders and gave me a reassuring squeeze.
“Don't worry. You look like a babe.”
“But I—”
She cut me off. “I know, I know. You don't care, because you and Beau hate each other, blah, blah, blah. I'm just letting you know: you look like a babe.”
I swallowed. “Thanks.”
“Now c'mon. We gotta get going or we're going to miss them.”
We rushed out of her building and hailed a cab out front. Destination: Club 1 OAK in Chelsea.
***
Doubts and second thoughts raced through my mind as we joined the end of the line to enter the club. My stomach sank deeper each time the doorman turned away a girl—girls who were prettier than me, girls who had better figures and tighter dresses.
I felt sick to my stomach.
Why did I agree to this? What am I trying to prove?
I didn't know. I wasn't a popular girl back when I went to school with Beau, and I definitely wasn't the kind of girl to be spotted at popular NYC clubs now.
“I dunno about this, Piper,” I mumbled nervously as we slowly advanced through the queue.
“No turning back now!” she chirped confidently.
After a bit of a wait, it was our turn to get judged. The bouncer appraised Piper and I with a side-long glare. “Welcome to 1 OAK, ladies.” He opened the door for us.
I breathed a heavy sigh of relief, and a smug sense of self-satisfaction rushed over me—because I was hot enough to get into this club, damn it!
Be careful, Camille, I warned myself. Don't enjoy that too much.
Because that feeling—that pride, that hubris—is what possessed Beau Bradford all those years ago, and infected all the girls he let into his circle.
We stepped in and a wall of sound hit me, like running face-first into a brick wall. The club was packed with bodies. The air was hot and humid, and the scent of booze and sweat hung in the air. Piper and I had to push our way into the crowd, slowly carving a path through the dance floor. Well-dressed men and women bumped and ground against one another to the loud beat of the music.
“This is nuts!” I shouted. “What are we doing here?”
“How many times do I have to tell you? We're going to hang out with your boyfriend and all his professional athlete buddies!”
“He's not my boyfriend!”
But I had to fight back a smile. If you spend enough time feverishly denying something, you might end up surprised by the doubts that begin to creep into your own mind:
What if I'm wrong? What if Piper's right? What if there was something between us all along?
Still, I knew the appeal of Beau was the impossible fantasy. The alpha-male sports hero who decides to settle down with one girl, even though he has his pick of the women. And anyone silly enough to be lured in by the fantasy always ended up getting burned—just ask any of Beau's broken-hearted exes from high school.
Because guys like Beau didn't settle down. They didn't have to. They had a golden ticket in life, and they wouldn't give it up for someone like me. And that's why he was allowed to get away with being such a massive dick.
But deep in my heart, there was some small part of me, some nugget of my soul, that so badly wished Piper could be right—even if I hated myself for being so weak and vulnerable. So pathetically human.
Just then, a second later, I spotted the booth in the back of the club. And that idiotic nugget of my soul was crushed out of existence, squashed like a troublesome bug.
Oh God.
I tapped Piper on the shoulder and discreetly pointed out the smarmy athlete in the dress shirt and suit jacket.
“There's my boyfriend, Piper.”
Beau Bradford hadn't changed at all. He sat with his arms around not one, not two, not even three—but four girls. Four. All of them young and bright-eyed and vying for his attention, their boobs damn-near spilling out of their tiny dresses.
Piper finally spotted Beau, and a hand went straight to her mouth with surprise. I could see the regret in her face—surely now she understood what we were dealing with. But did she see the role she'd played in getting my hopes up?
Stewing with resentment, I turned around to high-tail it out of the club. But Piper grabbed me by the hand and stopped me.
“Wait. One drink,” she said. “We came all this way. We might as well have one drink.”
I blew out a heavy breath. “Fine. One drink.”
I put a hand up to hide my face and let Piper lead me to the bar. There, she 'accidentally' bumped into the men standing next to us and struck up a conversation. They offered to buy us both a drink, and Piper happily accepted.
“Now listen,” she whispered to me. “You're going to play along and do what I say.”
“Why?”
“Because I think I know you and Beau better than you know each other.”
Oh, give it up already … I don't like the guy. I don't care.