Read Staying On Top (Whitman University) for Free Online Page A

the year, so it was hard to say. The American team had finished third in the Davis Cup, due in no small part to Sam’s efforts, and he’d ended his year with his number two ranking firmly in place. If everything stayed the same next season, he had a legitimate shot at grabbing number one from Javier Trevino, the Spaniard who had held the spot for the past three years—who, also according to the Internet, was also Sam’s practice partner.
    There was disturbingly little information and even less gossip about Sam Bradford, aside from the typical ladies’-man assumptions. I found nothing that told me where he lived in the off-season, where he liked to vacation, or who he’d supposedly been dating—the gossip sites did have archives under his name, mostly because he’d dated more than his fair share of hot models and/or actresses, but nothing current popped on a Google search.
    His parents lived in Boca, at least officially, but they struck me as the kind of people who weren’t ashamed to ride their son’s financial coattails. Living this kind of life all of these years had given me several gifts, but none came in handier than my ability to read people with a pretty high reliability. I was almost never wrong. Sam’s parents were greedy assholes. I’d bet my hair on it, and I had a shameless, narcissistic love for my hair.
    Stalking wasn’t getting my anywhere, and the sorority meeting started in fewer than ten minutes. I took a deep breath, grabbed my phone, and scrolled through my contacts. There was nothing under Sam or Bradford, and I rolled my eyes, thinking I should have known better. Now I had to guess where Quinn had stored his friend’s number.
    An entry for Monster Dick jumped out at me. I was sure I’d never added that one, though I did tend to give nicknames to the boys I met at the bars, or even ones I dated. Flynn had been Pretty Boy in my phone the entire two or three months we’d been together.
    I shook my head and typed out a message—short and sweet, and following nothing but instinct. 
     
Hey, this is Blair Paddington, Quinn’s friend from Whitman. I’m not sure if you remember me from St. Moritz, but I was thinking about you and thought I’d say hi. Hit me back if you have time to chat for a few.
     
    I typed and deleted an exclamation point a few times, then typed and deleted a smiley face, then did the same with an XO before dropping the phone with a groan. It was better to leave it, since I’d been so insistent on not being interested. Especially since he’d just been taken for millions of dollars, Sam would be wary. Changing my behavior too drastically could work against me—even texting him could be too much, but I didn’t have much of a choice.
    In the end, I texted the private investigator we had on retainer instead. He was sleazy as fuck, but he could tell me where Sam would be on Sunday. It would be better that way—showing up out of the blue. With the story I’d decided to use, I’d still look like a stalker but it would work.
    Audra pushed the door open a minute later and slung her backpack onto the thin carpet. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes sparkled like emeralds. “Hey. What are you up to?”
    “Nothing. Just getting ready for the meeting.”
    “I know, I’ll hurry.” She kicked off her flip-flops and jeans, then stripped her tight shirt over her abdomen. “What’s going on tonight? Is it going to be a long one?”
    I shook my head, applying some lip gloss and tugging a rust-colored cardigan over my black-and-white dress. Most of the girls hated formal meetings, but they weren’t so bad. Dressing up had always been fun to me—in fact, it had been one of the things Dad used to hook me into the con life as a little girl. “No. Reminding everyone that their dues and incidentals need to be paid before they go home for Christmas, and I think solidifying a location for spring formal. You have plans with Logan later?”
    “No. They have a meeting, too, and he has