He presses his lips into a thin line and nods.
27
TRIPP
Gage countsout a stack of cash from a silver money clip. The flashing neon lights cast a shadow under the sharp, square brim of his hat. I still catch his frown and have to chuckle because he looks so out of place in his high-dollar cowboy hat, jeans, and boots.
“Here you go, ladies.” He holds out a wad of money, and the two half-naked girls take it from him eagerly.
“Where do you want to go?” the raven-haired one asks. She’s bouncing on the balls of her high heels while the brunette next to her bites her lower lip and runs a finger down the center of her chest.
“What?” Gage shouts above the music.
The brunette in a glittery bikini chimes in with a raised voice this time. “She said, where are you going to take us?”
His hand covers his eyes, and I laugh hysterically. Warren, Heston, and I have our backs leaned against the bar, shoulder to shoulder, as we watch the scene unfold.
“You don’t understand,” Gage says with wide eyes and his hands out in front of him like he’s directing traffic. “I’m paying you to leave me the hell alone.”
The girls pout their lips out. “But your friend said?—”
“Which one?” he demands.
The one with black hair spins on her heel and points straight at me. I wink and wave back with a smirk. We could have hit our usual spot in Westridge, but I’m glad Warren picked the run-down strip club thirty minutes away. It’s in the middle of nowhere and smells like cheap perfume and sweat, but the dread in Gage’s eyes when we pulled up was so fucking worth it.
I wouldn’t have told the pair of dancers that he wanted an hour in the VIP room with them if I thought he’d ever say yes. He’s spent the entire night looking down every time we came within two feet of a girl with barely covered boobs.
“Here’s extra. Just—get lost.” He starts to stomp past them, but then turns back momentarily. “Respectfully.”
They roll their eyes but waste no time stuffing the money into their bras. They eventually slip behind a black curtain blocked by a man in a suit, who looks like he might be a bodybuilder on the side.
“You’re no fun,” I tease as Gage approaches.
“Eight shots,” he grumbles to the bartender, ignoring me. “I don’t care what kind they are.”
“Giving free rein to the bartenders now?” Heston says. “Your tax bracket is showing.”
We all turn to face the bar. When a tray is slapped down in front of us a minute later, we each take one and stare skeptically at the mysterious green liquid.
“Grumpy goblin shots,” the bartender explains with an annoyed flick of her hair.
“I don’t think they like us here,” Warren chuckles.
“One last drink,” I say with a slight wobble. “Er, two. Two.”
I may not be blitzed out of my mind, but I’m damn close. I know my friends are too, because they each raise their shots andcircle up in the bromantic way we only do when we’ve been at it drinking for hours.
The truth is that this bachelor party couldn’t have come at a better time. I’ve never wanted to get drunk so bad in my life after not having the guts to tell Mesa about my dad showing up last night. Great first impression as a boyfriend of less than a week. Hiding shit.
Getting blindsided by my dad in the first place makes me want to drink even more.
I’m just glad she wasn’t there to meet him. She’d have turned to me and seen nothing but the giant red flag I am.
Heston doesn’t put up a fight as I slap my hand on his upper back. He bumps my drink as a result, making it spill over a tad. I turn my cap backward and lick up the side of the shot glass, wincing at the sour green apple taste.
Warren’s free arm loops around Gage to flick the back of his hat so that it drops down over his forehead to cover his eyes. Gage pushes it back and then jabs him in the arm with a laugh so loud I start to wonder if we all smoked a bowl at some point tonight and I just forgot about it.
There’s no telling what I’ve consumed or smoked since this night began. Since last night ended, actually. It’s been a complete bender already, and I’m not even done.
