Max's smirk returned. "Now that's service."

The man extended a hand. "Theodore Lacroix."

Max shook it, intrigued. "Max Thunderman."

Phoebe's jaw nearly dropped. "Wait. Lacroix? As in the Lacroix Cup?"

"That's right." Theodore straightened his blazer with a satisfied nod. "It's also the name of the president of this club." He turned slightly and snapped his fingers. "Clear these plates!"

Two waiters swooped in, removing the plates within seconds.

Max let out a low whistle. "Whoa. I am not in Dishville anymore."

Theodore chuckled. "I don't know where Dishville is, but here, people wait on you hand and foot—which is how it should be. Don't you agree?"

Melanie gasped, clutching Max's arm. "Max, this is it. This is the life! We could be country club royalty."

Max nodded, his mind already racing with possibilities. "It is how it should be."

Theodore snapped his fingers again. "Silly straw!"

A waiter handed him a bright red curly straw, which he gracefully slid into his glass before taking a long sip.

Max's eyes lit up. "Nice!" He turned to the nearest waiter and confidently demanded, "Denver Omelette!"

Within seconds, a perfectly plated omelet was placed in front of him.

Melanie gasped. "Max!" She clutched his arm tighter. "This is better than Princess Camp!"

"Steel drum player!" Theodore called, and suddenly, a musician appeared, filling the air with tropical beats.

Max's grin widened. "I love this place."

Phoebe groaned. "Max? Max! Pay attention!"

Max tore his eyes away from the musician, finally focusing back on his sister. "Sorry."

Theodore clapped Max on the shoulder. "You've got the attitude of a true club member—sharp, confident, elite."

Melanie nudged Max. "He's right! You totally belong here!"

"Raspberry iced tea!" Max called, testing his newfound power.

A waiter appeared in seconds, presenting him with an ice-cold drink.

Link and Phoebe exchanged a look.

"Max," Phoebe said cautiously, "why are you bothering making friends? You're only here for the day."

Max's smirk deepened. "Or am I?"

From across the court, Theodore stepped up to the tennis net, sizing up his next opponent. "Well, I see mattress boy has teamed up with quite a pro." He spun his racquet idly in his hand. "Looks like I might have to take the cover off my racquet today."

Phoebe blinked. "Oh, I didn't know you were playing."

"Of course." Theodore gestured to his partner, an older gentleman dozing off in a chair. "It's a shame I didn't meet you sooner, Max. You're club material—unlike the loser I'm playing with."

The old man snored loudly.

Theodore rolled his eyes and nudged him. "Wake up, Senator!"

Phoebe frowned. "Good luck out there, Mr. Lacroix."

"Thank you, Max." Theodore turned to a waiter. "Sports drink!"

Max leaned toward Melanie, grinning. "You know what this celebration needs?"

Melanie gasped in delight. "Pecan sandies!"

Max pointed at her. "You get me."

"I'll be right back!" she said, dashing toward the snack table.

Phoebe crossed her arms, eyes narrowing at her brother. "What is going on, Max? I nearly lost out there! I brought you here to help me win the free membership, not start a steel drum band!"

Max shrugged. "I was talking to the club president—this guy. Lacroix, he's so cool."

Phoebe groaned. "Max, please."

Theodore called out, lining up his serve. "Lacroix!"

The Senator let out a half-hearted grunt, barely raising his racquet before toppling over.

"Man down!" Theodore called. "My man is down!"

Max saw his opportunity. "I can sub for him."

Theodore's face lit up. "Max! Good show!"

Phoebe's jaw dropped. "Excuse me, Thunderslam, you're supposed to help me win the free membership!"

Max smirked. "Sorry, Phoebe, but it turns out I love country club life. And one day of it is not enough."

A weak groan came from the Senator, who stirred slightly.

"Wait," Link said. "The Senator is okay."

Phoebe saw Max's hesitation. She zapped the Senator with a tiny burst of electricity.

The old man groaned and flopped back down.

Melanie skipped back to Max's side, munching on a pecan sandy. "So... what'd I miss?"

Phoebe crossed her arms. "Never mind."

Max smirked at his sister. "That membership is mine."

Theodore clapped Max on the back approvingly. "Excellent initiative, Max. That's the kind of quick thinking we like to see in a Lacroix Cup finalist."

Max grinned. "Well, I do have a knack for getting what I want."

Phoebe scoffed. "You mean stealing my shot at the membership?"

Theodore barely acknowledged her, turning instead to the staff. "Someone refresh my iced tea."

A waiter rushed over in a near panic, swapping out the half-empty glass before Theodore could so much as tap his fingers. He took a long, satisfied sip before finally acknowledging Max again.

"I have a feeling you're not just good at getting what you want—you have taste." Theodore leaned in slightly. "I'd wager you have good taste in everything."

Max smirked, sensing an opportunity. "Oh, you have to meet my girlfriend then."

He turned and gestured to Melanie, who was busy marveling at a beautifully arranged fruit platter near the buffet table. She delicately plucked a perfectly symmetrical strawberry, inspected it with admiration, and then took the most graceful bite, sighing in delight.

"I love this place," Melanie murmured dreamily, savoring the flavor. "Everything is so aesthetically pleasing."

Max called out to her. "Melanie! Come meet Theodore Lacroix."

Melanie turned, her eyes lighting up. She quickly wiped her hands on a linen napkin and strutted over with the confidence of someone who had been born into country club luxury.

"Theodore Lacroix?" She smiled warmly, extending her hand. "Oh, I've heard about you."

Theodore took her hand, giving it a light, respectful shake. "And I wish I had heard about you sooner. Max, you never mentioned you had such an exquisite young lady by your side."

Melanie beamed. "Oh, he knows he got lucky."

Max wrapped an arm around her waist, smirking. "It's true. I did."

Theodore let out a pleased chuckle. "Smart, charming, and with an appreciation for the finer things in life." He glanced at the staff. "Make a note: this young lady deserves our finest tea."

A waiter immediately bowed slightly. "Right away, Mr. Lacroix."

Melanie gasped softly. "Ooh, do you have chamomile lavender? Or maybe jasmine pearl?"

Theodore grinned, clearly impressed. "She knows her teas."

Melanie flipped her hair. "Of course I do. I also know a place like this has to be serving the highest quality single-origin coffee, too."

Theodore nodded. "We do pride ourselves on our meticulous selection of brews."

Phoebe, who had been rolling her eyes through this entire interaction, threw up her hands. "Oh, come on! Max, what is happening?"

Max ignored her, turning back to Theodore. "So, about that spot in the club..."

Theodore gave him an amused look. "Patience, Max. You are in the finals, but you still have to prove yourself." He then turned to Melanie. "Although, I must say, if I were judging on social presence alone, you two would already have my vote."

Melanie gasped and clutched Max's arm. "Max, we have to win."

Max smirked. "We will."

Theodore leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just enough to make it feel like he was letting them in on an exclusive secret. "Let's just say... I'm rooting for you."

Melanie practically melted. "Max, I love him."

"I know," Max agreed, thoroughly enjoying the way things were going.

Phoebe groaned. "Melanie, do not encourage him!"

Melanie shrugged innocently. "What? He belongs here. We belong here."

Phoebe clenched her fists. "You don't even play tennis!"

Melanie gasped dramatically. "Phoebe! I could learn!"

Max chuckled, clearly reveling in the chaos. "Don't worry, Mel, I got this. We are winning."

Theodore straightened his blazer and gave them a knowing smile. "Well, Max, I look forward to seeing if you can live up to my expectations. Until then..." He gave a small, approving nod. "Enjoy the privileges of the club."

Max and Melanie watched as Theodore strode away with effortless confidence, his entourage of waiters trailing behind him like a well-trained army.

Melanie turned to Max, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Max, we have to become members here."

Max smirked. "Oh, don't worry, Mel. We will."

Phoebe groaned loudly, throwing her hands up. "I knew this was a mistake."

☆☆

Phoebe stared at Melanie like she had just betrayed all of humanity. "Melanie. Seriously? You're siding with Max on this?"

Melanie placed a delicate hand over her heart, feigning innocence. "Siding? Oh, no, no, no, Phoebe. I am simply recognizing excellence when I see it."

Max smirked, draping an arm around Melanie's shoulders. "See? Someone appreciates my natural charm and talent."

Phoebe groaned, throwing up her hands. "Melanie, Max is literally stealing my membership!"

Melanie tilted her head, thinking. "Stealing is such a strong word. I'd say... outplaying you."

Max burst out laughing. "Mel, I love you."

Phoebe's eyes widened in disbelief. "Melanie! You don't even play tennis! Why do you even care about getting into this club?"

Melanie gasped, looking personally offended. "Excuse me? Phoebe, do you see this place? Have you tasted their imported chocolates? Have you witnessed the napkin-folding precision at the tables?" She gestured dramatically at a nearby waiter refolding a napkin into the shape of a swan.

Phoebe rolled her eyes. "I cannot believe this. I thought you hated rich snobs!"

Melanie shrugged. "I hate boring rich snobs. This? This is an experience."

Max smirked, clearly loving every second of Phoebe's frustration. "See, Phoebe? She gets it."

Phoebe crossed her arms. "Oh, so what? You two are just gonna sip fancy teas and boss around the staff for the rest of your lives?"

Melanie gasped excitedly. "That's an option?!"

Phoebe groaned loudly, dragging her hands down her face. "Oh my gosh, what is happening?"

Just then, a waiter approached, bowing slightly. "Mr. Thunderman, Miss Melanie—Mr. Lacroix would like to invite you both to a private tasting event in the Members' Lounge."

Melanie clasped her hands together, practically vibrating with excitement. "Max, a private event? This is it. We're in."

Phoebe gaped at them. "You're not in! You haven't even won yet!"

Max shot her a lazy grin. "Oh, we will."

Phoebe groaned again. "Melanie, you live for chaos! How are you suddenly all about fine dining and polite clapping?!"

Melanie placed a hand on her chest, looking deeply moved. "Phoebe. Have you ever had a truffle-infused grilled cheese?"

Phoebe blinked. "...That's a thing?"

Max smirked. "And we're about to have one."

Phoebe looked back and forth between the two of them, completely exasperated. "I cannot with you two."

Melanie looped her arm through Max's. "Come, darling. Let's go sample wealth."

With that, she and Max sauntered off toward the private lounge, leaving Phoebe behind with an expression of pure disbelief.

"I swear I am living in a nightmare," she muttered to herself.

As the spectators continued to applaud, Melanie practically bounced with joy beside Max, her long curls bouncing with her. She clutched onto his arm, beaming as if she had just won the match herself.

"Max, baby, we are thriving right now!" she squealed, pressing a dramatic kiss to his cheek. "I always knew you had the makings of a champion!"

Max smirked, soaking in the praise. "Of course I did, babe. I mean, look at me—natural talent, undeniable charm, and now, a personal masseuse to handle my future tennis elbow."

As if on cue, a sharply dressed club attendant approached, holding a silver tray with two tiny steaming towels. "Mr. Thunderman, Miss Melanie, another complimentary hand treatment from Mr. Lacroix."

Melanie gasped, clutching Max's arm tighter. "Max, are we living a romance novel right now? Because it feels like we are!"

"We really are," Max mused, reaching for both towels. "And we're the main characters."

Meanwhile, Phoebe stood there, arms crossed, her jaw practically on the ground. "I cannot believe what I am witnessing right now."

Theodore Lacroix chuckled beside them, looking at Max with approval. "Mr. Thunderman, I must say, your confidence is exquisite—and so is your taste." He turned to Melanie, looking impressed. "And who, may I ask, is this stunning young woman?"

Melanie lit up like a chandelier, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she extended her hand. "Oh, Mr. Lacroix, you flatter me! I'm Melanie, Max's trophy girlfriend—and an avid supporter of all things luxurious and exclusive."

Lacroix took her hand delicately and gave a small nod of approval. "*A vision of elegance. You two make quite the power couple—wealth, talent, and style."

"Finally," Melanie sighed, nudging Max. "Somebody who gets us!"

Max smirked. "That's why we belong here, babe."

Phoebe looked back and forth between them, completely exasperated. "Okay, am I the only one who remembers that we are, in fact, NOT rich?"

Max waved a dismissive hand. "Shhh, Phoebe. We're manifesting right now."

Another club attendant appeared, holding two glasses. "Coconut lavender or jasmine mint?"

Melanie let out a dramatic sigh of contentment. "Both, obviously."

Max clinked his glass against hers before taking a sip. "Phoebe, I thought I was gonna have to take over the world to live like a king. Turns out, all I had to do was join this country club."

Phoebe groaned. "*Ugh! The joke is on you, Max, because after you double-crossed me, I posted that adorable childhood tennis picture of you all over the internet!"

Right on cue, Lacroix's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen and smirked. "Max, I can't believe this picture of you is going around. Lookin' smart, Thunderslam."

Max tilted his head, raising a brow. "Thanks, Mr. Lacroix."

Melanie giggled, squeezing Max's arm. "Babe, you do look cute in that little outfit."

Max sighed dramatically. "I know, right? It's like the internet is finally appreciating my past achievements.*"

As if things couldn't get worse for Phoebe, another employee approached, misting Max and Melanie with a cool spritz of evian water.

"Cool mist!" Max sighed in delight. "Yes! Yes... I deserve this.*"

Melanie closed her eyes, basking in the mist. "Oh, Max, baby, this is our life now."

Phoebe clenched her fists. "All right, fine, live it up while you can, Tennis the Menace, because I just came up with the most diabolical plan that is gonna make you beg for mercy."

Max didn't even look fazed. "You don't have a plan, do you?"

Phoebe hesitated. "I do not, but I will see you in court!"

Lacroix raised a brow. "You mean on the court?"

"She's just mad," Max said, patting Phoebe's shoulder condescendingly. "She's having a bad day."

Phoebe let out a frustrated scream as Max and Melanie clinked their glasses together, basking in their new luxurious country club life.

As Max lounged comfortably in the country club's VIP section, sipping on an ice-cold raspberry iced tea, he felt like he had finally arrived. The world of silk napkins, tailored sportswear, and unlimited complimentary services was his now.

Just then, Theodore Lacroix strolled in, radiating powerful rich guy energy, his crisp white tennis attire immaculate despite having just played a match. He clapped Max on the shoulder approvingly.

"Thunderman, I must say, you're fitting in here quite well," Lacroix said, smirking. "Natural charisma, impressive backhand, and a commanding presence over the staff. I like it."

Max grinned, tilting his drink toward him. "Well, I am a quick learner. The key is knowing you deserve the luxury."

"Indeed," Lacroix agreed. Then, his sharp gaze flickered toward someone approaching—Melanie.

She glided over, looking effortlessly stunning in a pristine white sundress, her long, wavy hair cascading over her shoulders. The gold bracelet on her wrist glimmered in the sunlight as she looped her arm through Max's.

"*Maxie, baby, I just had to come find you. The spa here? Life-changing. They exfoliated my soul." She sighed dramatically, resting her head on Max's shoulder. "This is the best place ever. I never want to leave."

Lacroix chuckled knowingly. "Ah, Melanie, good to see you again."

Max raised an eyebrow. "Wait, you two know each other?"

"Of course," Lacroix said smoothly. "Melanie is a frequent guest here. She understands the importance of high society."

Melanie flashed a dazzling smile. "What can I say? A girl has standards." She leaned in, lowering her voice to a whisper. "And Max, baby, this place is a gold mine. You have to secure your spot here."

Max smirked, pulling her closer. "Oh, don't worry, babe. I'm way ahead of you."

Lacroix gave an approving nod. "A man with ambition. I respect that. And with Melanie by your side? You two could be unstoppable here."

Melanie beamed, looping both arms around Max. "See, Maxie? This is what I've been saying! We were made for the country club life.*"

Max sighed contentedly. "Honestly? I think you're right."

He clinked his glass against Lacroix's as a waiter approached with another complimentary treat.

"Would the gentleman care for another cool mist?"

Max grinned. "Yes, Alfred. I would."

Max leaned back against the plush lounge chair, sipping his raspberry iced tea as he eyed Melanie suspiciously. "Okay, hold up. If you've been coming here, why didn't you tell me?"

Melanie twirled a loose strand of hair around her finger, completely unbothered. "Oh, Maxie, it just didn't seem important at the time." She waved a manicured hand dismissively. "Besides, I wanted you to experience it for yourself. Watching you fall in love with the finer things? Adorable."

Max narrowed his eyes playfully. "And what was with that whole 'nice to meet you' act with Lacroix earlier?" He gestured between the two of them. "You two were acting like strangers—was that some country club mind game?"

Melanie just shrugged, adjusting the diamond bracelet on her wrist as if the conversation was already boring her. "Maxie, baby, who cares?" She turned her wide, adoring eyes on him. "All that matters is that you're winning."

Max tilted his head, a slow smirk spreading across his face. "That does sound like what matters most."*

"Exactly!" Melanie beamed, giving his arm a squeeze. "So stop worrying and just enjoy being the star of the show. You look the part, you play the part—this club is already yours."

Lacroix chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Melanie does have a way of simplifying things. And I must say, Max, she's right. Victory is in your grasp."

Max draped an arm around Melanie's shoulders, his smirk growing. "Well, if it's already mine, I might as well act like it."*

Melanie gave him a proud little nod. "Now that's my Maxie."

☆☆

The crowd leaned in, eyes darting between the players as the match spiraled into chaos. Electric energy crackled through the air—literally—as blasts of power zapped across the court.

The announcer gripped the microphone, trying to maintain professionalism despite the unfolding mayhem. "Uh... and