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“Once? When you got on the piss, you would always ramble on about her… Char… something or other. Bugger, this shot is strong. I can’t even remember her name.”
“Charlotte.”
“That’s right. So that’s it, Lex Edwards is off the market? You were my wingman.”
“It’s best you don’t bring that up here,” I caution.
There are memories I want to erase, the endless nights of fucking random women. Bentley James Woods is trouble, trouble that I don’t want near Charlotte. We all have a past, right? It’s just that I did things I’m not proud of, and unfortunately, BJ was a witness to it all.
“Look, Lex, I won’t fart arse around the topic. We had fun, I get it, buddy, you’re gonna be a daddy. Just don’t forget about little old London town. I assume you’ll be moving to New York?”
“Yes. But quit the Mr. Nice Guy act. Who invited you here?” I question.
“Your lovely sister, Adriana. Relax, will ya, buddy ole pal? Adriana thought you should have a least one friend here. Look, I’m here to have fun, I won’t go bringing up your colorful past with anyone, okay?”
He pats me on the back, switching the topic to business. Now, I’m in my element. BJ was born into a rich family like every other pretentious bastard in London. His family owns property all over Europe. However, BJ is heavily into the real estate game, which made him a fucking millionaire in his own right. Money can buy you a lot of things, but apparently not class. He’s known for being a womanizer—marriage and babies definitely are not on his agenda.
Without warning, Rocky yells out, “It’s showtime,” interrupting our conversation.
Fuck.
Eight, and I mean eight, strippers come out to the makeshift stage and start dancing. I can handle this, it’s pretty tame. Besides, it is just tits. Panties are in check, for now. I will be fine. I have a beautiful woman waiting for me, ready to marry me, but who right now is probably being smothered by sweaty manwhores dressed up in uniforms.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I motion for Eric to come over. I need to ease my jealous mind.
“Okay, so do all vajayjays look like that?” He points to the girl dancing butt naked, his head tilting sideways cringing at the sight.
“Her lips are out of proportion,” Rocky interrupts.
“Lips can be out of proportion?” Eric gaps, clutching his hand to his chest.
“Eric, what are the girls doing? Surely, Charlotte or Kate would have texted you?”
“Uh, uh… Nikki banned all phones. ‘What happens at the party, stays at the party.’ Her words, not mine.”
Fucking bitch!
Finn and Elijah sit beside me with smirks on their faces. I know enough to know that something is about to go down, but I have absolutely no idea what.
“So, you enjoying yourself?” Finn asks.
“Cut the bullshit, Rodriguez, why are you two looking at me like that?”
“No reason. Just want to make sure you are enjoying your night,” Elijah follows.
“Listen to you bunch of pussies sitting around yapping when you should be watching that.” Rocky points to three of the girls practically having an orgy with each other. Eric’s facial expressions are priceless. One minute he’s intrigued, the next minute he cringes and covers his eyes.
“Guys, relax, have a drink.” Finn hands us shots, and we all drank fast.
I remind myself to slow down. I’m getting married in a few hours. My mother will kill me if I turn up drunk at the altar.
We sit around drinking while the girls dance in front of us. They are not half bad, fake tits and all. Uncle Hank is having the time of his life, and I officially declare him a clone of Rocky. The similarities are uncanny, and they get along like a house on fire. Several times I catch them in the corner getting their own private lap dance.
“You shouldn’t be looking at that,” Finn growls, trying to act all tough. “You’re marrying my best friend.”
“When I look at you, I’m reminded that you’ve been with my Charlotte,” I slur.
