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“Why not?”
“I don’t think he’ll go.”
“Oh … because, like you, he’s pussy-whipped?”
He crosses his arms over his chest. I hope he doesn’t think the look he’s giving me is intimidating.
“Whatever … just keep your mouth shut. I told him we were going to the strip to drink.”
Brady comes out and nods his chin just as Jesse races up the driveway. Jesse is Second Chances drummer and he and Brady have been best friends since first grade. I’m elated he’s here. Jesse’s always up for a good time, and doesn’t have a woman to weigh down his fun.
Jesse and his cousin, Chad, who also happens to be Second Chances bassist, get out of the truck, and Jesse throws his hands up in the air. “What’s up? Are we ready to get this party started?”
“Hell, yeah,” I say, and bump knuckles with Jesse and Chad.
“I’m ready,” Brady answers. “Let me grab the rest of the guys.”
He goes inside and comes out moments later with Gabe, the bands guitarist, along with his friend, Davey, who was tossed out of the band before they hit it big. Rodrigo trails behind them. He runs the Center and is a good friend to both me and Brady.
I draw the short straw and get Davey, Rodrigo, and Harrison in my car. Rodrigo is cool, but I don’t like being around Davey. Everyone one pretends Davey isn’t responsible for Tori losing Mona, but I blame him. His showing up at the house belligerent and berating Tori is what led her to fall down those stairs. If he’d never come back into Brady’s life, that incident would have never occurred, and I wouldn’t be who I am now. Brady and Tori would have their baby girl. They wouldn’t have split up. She most definitely wouldn’t have slept with me. I wouldn’t be ruined and jaded.
Rodrigo and Davey are in the back seat, and quiet. Harrison, on the other hand, won’t shut up, and nags me the entire car ride about keeping my attitude in check tonight. More than once, I consider reaching across the seat and punching him square in the jaw, but somehow I manage to survive the trip.
I get out of the car and glance up at the glowing sign for La Luna Azul, which means “the blue moon.” What’s with that name, anyway? I travel all over the globe, and I can name at least ten places with a Blue Moon of some sort.
Brady hops out of Jesse’s truck and glares at Harrison. “The Blue Moon. Come on, really? Strip clubs aren’t me anymore.”
“Bullshit!” Jesse roars, roping his arm around Brady. He grips him in a headlock and gives him a noogie before letting him go. “You’re still a man. Besides, I’ve had a shit week, and I want to see titties.”
Brady turns his head toward Jesse, his lips screwed
up, but trying not to smile. “You, my friend, are a dog.”
Jesse lifts his recently shaved head and howls into the night sky.
“Well, I’m with Jesse,” I say, “so let’s go in. I booked the VIP section for the night.”
“Fine,” Brady grumbles. “But no stupidity, and we aren’t staying out all night. I don’t want to be trashed when I marry my girl.”
My girl, I think, and fight the urge to bail out on the night.
“Correction, dude,” Jesse says. “Because you’re getting married tomorrow is why you should get trashed.”
Brady shakes his head and bumps his shoulder into Jesse.
We walk, and Brady shoves Harrison in the arm. “My sister is going to kill you for this.”
“No, man. She’s cool with it.”
“How’d you manage that?” Brady asks, surprised.
“I didn’t. Tori did. That is one cool chick you have.”
“Yes, she is,” Brady boasts. “I’m a lucky man.”
I didn’t want Brady’s words to sting, but damn if they don’t burn right through my chest. He’s a lucky bastard, all right. Wanting Brady to screw up tonight and do something so deplorable Tori calls off the wedding makes me the worst kind of person and a shit brother. But the desire is there, giving me the faintest of hope.
We go inside, and I lead the guys through the thick plume of smoke to the VIP section. The place smells like sweat, booze, and sex. The pounding bass vibrates my skin. Strobe lights play tricks on my eyes, and they take a while to adjust. Everyone has a seat except for Brady. He looks around nervously, as though he’s expecting someone.
