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Chapter 35
Mysti May
2:58 PM SATURDAY
The image of sombreros and the sound of maracas replay in my mind.
Oh my god.
“Norbert and…Jeff,” I mumble as the flashback of last night floods my mind. “Gay?”
I remember. All I saw were naked men, lying on the couch and sprawling across the bed. There were a few on the chair fucking, and then Jeff was on his knees in front of Norbert.
Holy shit.
Jeff was blowing Norbert, who happened to be wearing a damn sombrero.
I clutch onto the sheets, feeling myself getting distracted by the gay orgy I walked into last night—the one I’m so vividly remembering right now.
“They’re gay?” I blurt out.
I wish I can unsee it—Jeff’s head bobbing up and down Norbert’s excuse of a pecker, while the men around them grunt in pleasure.
Wait, where were the maracas?
“And from what I remember, they enjoy fiestas as well,” Percy teases.
“Wait! Wait!” Sammi shouts down to us. “I remember! There were about ten of them. It was a gay Mexican fiesta orgy!”
“Oh my god!” I exhale, mulling over this information.
My husband-to-be is gay, and he’s gay with his best man. No fucking wonder he was so willing to help me out earlier. He’s the other man in this—our relationship—and he’d do anything to keep me at ease and distracted.
“Holy shit!” I shake my head. “How did I not see this coming?”
“Maybe it’s because he shackled you up so damn tightly that you couldn’t see anything outside of your relationship,” Becky chimes in. “It’s like you were a fucking captive, only allowed to see the room he locked you in.”
“Yeah…while he runs outside, playing a whole other gay orgy Mexican fiesta life,” Percy adds while biting her lips, trying not to laugh. “It kind of makes sense.”
She bursts out laughing to the extent that I’m surprised her shaking doesn’t toss us off this sheet.
Damnis all I can say.
But I’m not mad.
Remembering this is shocking, especially because I thought Norbert was obsessed with me. But it’s all starting to make sense now. And I feel more relieved than upset.
I probably should be mad or hurt, seeing that I’ve caught him in the act, performing his extracurricular activities, but I’m not. It feels like someone handed me the keys to my own handcuffs—the ones I didn’t ask for.
I feel free.
“Okay, seriously, let’s get the fuck down!” Sammi screams to us, and I’m pulled back to the matter at hand: getting onto the roof below us safely.
“Going!” I shout up to her.
I loosen my grip and slowly slide down to one of the lower roofs of the Royale. Thank god this place is huge.
As my feet touch the shingles, I hear the sound of a helicopter in the distance. I ignore it at first, thinking that it’s just a group of tourists getting a bird’s-eye view of the city. But it grows closer, the sound increasing to a deafening level.
