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Chapter 15
Brett
The girls are doing their thing, and we’re doing ours. Marc and Stacey have officially split—he moved into the other penthouse suite so they’re not sleeping together anymore before the wedding, and now it’s my turn.
When I arrive at the room, I bring Tom with me—the other groomsman—but I asked Colin to help out, too, since Noah isn’t here yet and won’t be a part of the festivities.
“Drink,” Tom orders, giving Marc a shot of Tequila the moment we walk in through the door.
“Jesus, already?” Marc asks.
I nod and give him a beer from the icebox I bring with me to chase his shooter down with.
“It’s going to be a wild night, and you need to be ready,” I say.
Colin closes the door and whistles through his teeth.
“This is what the wedding party gets? I want to be a guest at your wedding.”
I laugh. “You have more money than you know what to do with; this place is nothing compared to your place.”
Colin shrugs. “Yeah, well, I’m just thinking about how all the others must feel. It’s good.”
I laugh and shake my head. It was a good idea to bring Colin along.
Marc and Colin clap hands—they already met on the field when we played together—and we stand together, drinking. It takes a few beers to get Marc tipsy, a few more shooters to get him drunk, and then the fun can begin.
Tom and Colin take Marc to the bedroom to get him ready. I set everything up for what’s to come. I open the door and let the strippers in. They’re still wearing underwear, but it leaves almost nothing to the imagination, and just thinking about where this could lead makes me feel giddy.
I put on music, turn the lights down, and the girls start dancing.
When Marc emerges from the room, he’s wearing bright pink hot pants, and one of the guys wrote “groom to be” on his chest in permanent marker.
A stripper close to Marc starts dancing up against him.
He pushes her away and glares at me. “What the fuck, man?”
I frown and turn off the music. The girls stop dancing.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Marc shakes his head and walks back to the room, closing the door. I look at Tom, who shrugs, and Colin, who’s ogling one of the strippers.
“Have at it,” I say and turn the music back up. Like wind-up dolls, they start dancing again, and I walk to the room where Marc shut himself in.
“What’s going on?” I ask when I find Marc in the bathroom, scrubbing the marker off his chest. “I planned a whole night for us.”
“Yeah, and you got strippers.”
“Isn’t that what bachelor parties are about?” I ask. I’m confused. All the bachelor parties I’ve been to have had strippers.
“Do we have to do everything the way others do it? I don’t want to see those women. What do you think Stacey’s going to say?”
“God knows what she’s doing tonight,” I say. “I don’t think it’s fair of her to get pissed off—”
“This isn’t about her getting pissed off,” Marc says. “She wouldn’t get strippers and have other guys be all over her. And I don’t want it, either. She’s my girl, man. I’m marrying her in three days. What the fuck would I want with some other woman I don’t know, who pushes her tits into my face?”
I don’t know what to say.
