Lauren flashed me an apologetic smile, leaning in close. “I found out about the party a few days ago, so when I mentioned it to Trent, he thought it’d be a good chance for you.” She moved back, inclining her head. “I reserved a table just for you guys. You’ll be close when they arrive.”

Dread lined my insides.

No time for jokes here. This was serious, and I locked eyes with Trent, raising one eyebrow, all villain-in-a-movie like.

Okay. Who was I kidding? Jokes made the world go round. There was always room for at least one.

He flushed, giving me a closed-mouth smile, and there he was: his hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumping like a self-conscious little schoolboy. Not today, Stan.

Lauren led the way.

Trent started to follow, but I grabbed his arm. My grip was cement. He didn’t even look at me. He took my hand, lifting it from his arm like it was cotton candy.

He spoke, even as his eyes continued to follow his girlfriend. “Just hear me out when we get to our table. Okay?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. The asshat took off, knowing I had two choices: follow so I could get all the information, or leave, having only a gut feeling about what was going on here.

I followed. There was a little Veronica Mars in me.

As I wound through the couches behind them, I knew there could be only one reason Trent would lie to me—or I should say one person. One person who I knew was already in Chicago with us, and who I’d originally come to see anyway. But that was different—my timetable.

And anyway, this person was someone who wouldn’t go out the night before a game, who was the epitome of professional because pro athletes had to be.

So there had to be another reason Trent had brought me here. Right?

Lauren was weaving around, taking us down a back hallway with the same decor as the main area of the club. It looked like an alley. Murals on the walls had been painted to give us a 3D image of the fire escape stairs that hung off the sides of apartment buildings. When we went past a door, a cityscape was painted on it as if we were passing a street.

Lauren opened the one with a San Diego cityscape.

We had our own box. A large booth in black leather lined the back wall, and a small table sat in the middle, with champagne already waiting for us. There was a large chandelier hanging above, and it was a little quieter here.

Lauren went straight for the champagne, picking it up and opening it. “You guys ready for a fun night?”

I harrumphed. Why, I had no idea. I just felt it.