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  Tessi nods sagely as she moves some gloss along her bottom lip. “I would be too. Give him hell, girlfriend, but right now, you need to pop your contacts in and get onstage. Ms. Prissy hasn’t been laid in weeks, and she is in full bitch mode, I can promise you that.”

  I laugh out loud as I turn to look back at myself. I still have a lot to do. I wish I could be like Tessi and not care if someone recognizes me in this place, but it always freaks me out that Phillip could come in here, or one of his friends. I’m not ashamed of what I do by any means, but I still don’t like to advertise it. Plus, I’m not a hundred percent sure how Phillip would feel about this. Reese knows, but I’ve never brought it up to Phillip, and neither has she. But really, the thought of some guy coming up to me outside of the club is enough, so I do everything I can to change my appearance.

  Reaching for my contact case, I open it quickly, popping in my dark brown contacts to cover my bright blue eyes. Positioning some fake lashes to make my eyes look fuller, I finish my eye makeup before applying some bright red lipstick. Pursing my lips at myself, satisfied with the way I look, I smile at my reflection before standing up to get ready. Reaching for my outfit for the night, I hurry to get ready because, like Tessi said, Ms. Prissy could be a major bitch when she wasn’t getting laid regularly. After sliding the crystal-encrusted booty shorts up over my black fishnets, I slide my feet into a pair of black high heels as Tessi stands up to help me tie up the back of the crystal-studded corset.

  “Claire! Let’s go,” Ms. Prissy yells.

  Tessi laughs before swatting me on my butt. “Good luck.”

  I flash her a grin as I grab my fans and make my way to the curtain. Tonight, I’m doing an old-fashioned burlesque fan dance. I’d seen it on TV one night and then spent the next two weeks researching and rehearsing my set before I showed Ms. Prissy and management at the club. That was a year ago, and now I was the most popular act on the busiest night. I also do pole and regular burlesque dancing, but the fans are my favorite. I send Ms. Prissy an apologetic smile as I run to my mark, but all I receive back is an eye roll before she gets on the radio to let the tech guys know I’m ready. When “Diamonds” by Rihanna starts, I slowly pull the curtains back, revealing myself to the crowd as it erupts with catcalls and men hollering my name.

  Showtime.

  Oh, by the way, my name is Claire Anderson and I’m a nineteen-year-old sophomore at the University of Bellevue here in Tennessee. By night though, onstage and in this club, my name is Diamond, and I’m the best burlesque dancer at Ms. Prissy’s Gentlemen’s Club.

  Nice to meet you.

  Chapter 2

  Jude

  My lungs are burning.

  It has been a long practice and my lungs aren’t the only things that are burning, my back is too. I’m gonna need a good rubdown after this, and it can’t come fast enough. Ever since I took a hard hit into the boards a couple practices ago, my back has been tweaking. My dad told me this isn’t a big deal, to push through the pain, and maybe he’s right. This is my year. I have scouts looking at me from New York, Detroit, Minnesota, and Los Angeles. I was hoping for Detroit since it was my dream to wear the famous red and white jersey, playing for one of the first eight teams in the NHL, but really, I’d go anywhere. As long as I’m playing hockey. Professionally.

  I love the feeling I get when I step out onto the ice. The way the cool air fills my lungs, making me breathless. The smell of the ice tickling my senses before my heart begins to race from the adrenaline of dominating the ice. It has always been like that, and for as long as I can remember, I’ve loved it. I love everything about it. It is like a drug, my drug, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

  I knew from a very young age that I wanted to play pro, and even though the University of Bellevue wasn’t my first-choice school, the scholarship they offered was top-notch, and soon they were my only choice. My dad told me that he would pay for the schooling wherever I wanted to go, but I didn’t want to be indebted to my father. I knew that somehow he would hold that over my head, and I didn’t want that. Plus, UB was going places and I wanted to help their hockey team, the Bullies, get there. I also didn’t want to leave my family. I would never admit that to anyone; being the oldest boy of our family, I’m supposed to the strong one – and I am – but still, I couldn’t leave my family.

  At first I didn’t want to leave my mom since my older sister Lucy and I had moved out, and my dad was always leaving for work. Then at the end of my freshman year, Lucy moved back home after a failed marriage, and she was severely depressed. She was pregnant with Angie, my niece, and her deadbeat husband left her for someone else. It sucked and I wanted to kill him, but instead, we took her back like she never left.

  My mom is a worrywart though, and sometimes she worries so much she makes herself sick, so I’m glad I’m close to home to help when I’m needed. She’s doing better because Lucy is, but it was hard when my brother Jayden moved into the frat house as a freshman at UB. He also plays with me on the Bullies. He has scouts looking at him, but like they said to me, they wanted to see how we do in college.

  My baby brother, Jace, is graduating high school this year. They say he will go straight into the draft; he’s unbelievable and his talent is awe inspiring. While Jayden and I are jealous that we’ve had to go to college first, my whole family is proud of Jace. He’s going to be a star. Hell, we all are going to be stars.

  But first, I have to finish some college, and now that I’m here, I really couldn’t think of a better school to go to. I love my team, and boy, do I love the girls at this school. I guess you could call me a ladies’ man, and I wear the label proudly. I’m not one of those guys to be tied down. What is the point? There are too many girls wanting me, and I know the numbers will triple once I go pro.

  Man, I can’t wait.

  Racing down the ice, I cut left and deke to the right before crashing the net, hoping for a rebound, but Shane, the best goalie I have ever played with, covers the puck and everyone backs away as the whistle blows. Flexing my back, hoping the tweak will go away, I look around as Coach Moss goes over the next play he wants us to carry out. Coach Moss is a great coach, but rumors are floating around that he’s going to get replaced because he’s going to move up to the NHL. I hope it happens after I’m gone because Coach Moss and I understand each other. He understands that I’m the best player on the ice, and I understand that as long as I do what he says, I could be one of the greats in the NHL. I have been playing for him for as long as I can remember, starting in the travel league alongside my brothers. He was the one who convinced the admissions committee to offer me a full scholarship.

  When the whistle blows again, I move to the face-off circle by the boards, hoping we win the face-off. We do and I get the puck before passing it off to the right winger, but then he gets stuck with the puck behind the goal. I rush toward him, digging for it before winning it and taking it out toward the front of the goal. The play called for me to pass it to my right winger again because he was lined up with an opening, but I have one too. Kinda. So I shoot, getting past the two defensemen and going right over Shane’s shoulder into the goal. My arms go up in the air as Coach Moss goes crazy, blowing his damn whistle.

  “Sinclair! Sinclair!”

  I ignore him, basking in my awesomeness as my teammates hit my shin with their sticks, celebrating an awesome goal.

  “Jude fucking Sinclair! I know you hear me!”

  I turn as Coach skates toward me, his face red with anger because, like usual, I didn’t follow the play.

  “I made it.”

  “Well, no shit, but that wasn’t the play. West was open, completely open; you had to go through two defensemen to get it in. Yeah, you got it, but this isn’t a one-man show. Go by the plays, or get off my fucking ice.”

  I hate when he gets like this.

  “But I made it, and it isn’t a one-man show if I’m winning for the team.”

  “Do you think some NHL team is going to k