Page 1 of Trick Shot

Chapter one

~JACE~

Shots burn hotter when you’re already half-buzzed.

“Here’s Johnny!” Nate shouts with his rubber axe in hand as I slam the empty shot glass down and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

“Relax, Wendy,” I snort, grabbing the Ghostface mask hanging off the back of my neck and pulling it back on. “You sound like you’d shit yourself in the opening credits.”

That earns a round of laughter from half the team.

“You really look just like the killer from Scream,” Tanner wheezes through a grin, pointing at me.

“Only if Ghostface hit the gym six days a week and could bench-press a fucking SUV,” Nate adds, elbowing me.

“Ghostface, but make it daddy,” our equipment manager Dan says, and the entire team howls.

I scoff and pull the hood over the mask, tugging it low. One of the guys tries to toss me another shot, but I wave it off. I’m not here to black out. I’m here to… hell, I don’t even know.

Miami’s Halloween scene is the same shit every year—overdressed guys, underdressed girls, shitty drinks with cool names, and music so loud it’ll fuck your eardrums into next week.

And yeah, every girl in here is giving me fuck-me eyes. It’s the same look. Every time. The full-body scan, the slow bite of the lip, the subtle lean forward like I’m a goddamn vending machine and they’re trying to pick a number.

The costumes don’t help. Slutty nun. Slutty nurse. Slutty Wednesday Addams. One girl’s just wearing glitter and calling it a fairy.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve fucked my way through worse. But lately? It all just feels like a copy-paste of the last hundred nights.

Easy. Predictable. Boring.

My dick can only do so much heavy lifting when my brain is checked the fuck out.

Deciding one more wouldn’t hurt, I drag the mask up just enough to down another drink, then shove it back in place.

I barely take one step away from the private bar before a girl sidesteps into my path like she’s been tracking me on GPS.

The place is full of puck bunnies tonight.

“Ghostface, huh?” she purrs, fingering the chin of my mask. “You gonna chase me or just pin me to the nearest wall?”

I don’t answer right away, just stare at her. She’s hot. Blonde. Lips glossy and plump. Body poured into a latex cop outfit that’s doing way too much and not nearly enough at the same time.

My brain runs the math in two seconds flat. She’s already decided she’s going home with me. She’ll moan like a porn star. She’ll call me “daddy” before I even get her dress off. She’ll ask for a selfie after so she can post it on her social media.

I’m bored before she even finishes blinking.

“Hey, Tanner!” I call out over her shoulder.

“Yeah?” The rookie stumbles out of the crowd, drink in hand, eyes wide like he just saw his first pair of tits.

“You like fake cops?” I jerk my chin toward the girl.

“Uh… yeah?” He blinks.

“Cool.” I clap him on the shoulder. “She’s all yours. Try not to cry when you nut.”

The girl looks insulted while Tanner looks like I handed him a winning lotto ticket.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her, stepping around them, “boy’s got stamina. Rookie season and all.”