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As busy as it is, we manage to find a booth and we happily scoot right in. Before too long, Jane shows up at our table and drops off a round of our usual drinks without us even needing to order.We all grab a glass.
Jane raises a boozy lemonade for a quick toast to her niece. “Don’t take this as legal advice, ladies, but tonight is one of Meghan’s last nights as a single woman. Let’s make it asscandalousas possible, shall we?”
We all hoot and shout. “Cheers!”
4
DAVIS
So, we’re crammed into a booth at the back of a seedy strip club on the edge of Sin Valley.
Tonight is supposed to be a good time. But it becomes clear after the first half hour that none of us actually wants to be here.
It’s so bad, it’s almost hilarious.
Jasper gets squeamish every time a stripper even breathes in his direction. It feels like just yesterday, he was the playboy of the Westbrooks, but now, it’s clear he’d rather be at home with his little family, pressure-washing the driveway or changing dirty diapers, instead of here, watching strange women parading around in their panties.
Meanwhile, Harry has been video-chatting with his new wife, Nadia, since the moment we sat down. I’ve heard her try to tell him ‘bye’ three times, but I think he’s afraid to get off the phone because then he won’t know where to focus his eyes.
As for Mason, he’s in the corner reading a medical journal. Yes, a medical journal. Happily writing notes in the margins and annotating the text with his neon yellow highlighter. In a damn strip club.
He squints up at the dim bulbs overhead. “The lighting is terrible in here,” he complains.
My father nods in agreement, frowning at his phone. “Tell me about it.” Since we got here, Dad has been preening for his camera and taking selfies. “Does my hairline look okay in this one?” he asks, forehead crinkled with insecurity as he shoves his screen in my face.
“You look fine.” I bat his phone away.
As for the groom? Cash is scowling so hard that the dancers seem scared to even approach our pathetic corner of the club.
Damn—the once infamous Westbrook boys no longer have the swag they used to. Either that, or we’re just getting old.
“You’re supposed to be enjoying one of your last nights of freedom. You realize that, right?” I lean forward and punch the groom in the shoulder.
His scowl turns on me. “I’m only here because Meghan is forcing me to ‘do something manly’.” He makes quotation marks with his fingers. “This whole shitshow is your fault,” he accuses bitterly, gesturing to the scantily-clad women on stage.
I scoff, offended. “How is this my fault?”
“You’re the best man. Planning tonight’s outing shouldhave beenyourresponsibility.”
“Don’t bite my head off.” I shrug. “When Meghan caught wind of what I was planning—a nice night of chicken wings and beers at the local bowling alley—she stepped in and demoted me from my role as party planner. She organized everything and said that my only duty tonight is to make sure you have a good time.”
My brother snarls. “Well,mission: failed.”
Throwing both palms up in surrender, I offer my sincerest apology. “Sorry, dude. I don’t know what to tell ya.”
Eager to dodge Cash’s wrath, I head over to Mason’s corner of the party, nudging my cousin with my elbow to make room for me. Soon, we’re sipping on our second beers while chatting.
The whole time, I’m half-heartedly wondering what the hell is wrong with me. My cock lays as limp as a tube sock in my jeans, refusing to show the slightest bit of interest as I watch the dancers on stage.
I emit a yawn. Damn—I could use some coffee.
“So, it’s almost election season. Will I finally get to see your name on the ballot for mayor?” Mason asks.
“Nah, man.” I busy myself with another ‘casual’ pull of my beer.
“Come on, dude.” My cousin angles his body, fully turning his attention to me. “We all know that it’s been your dream to run this town. And you’d be great at it, too. What the hell are you waiting for? What’s holding you back?”
“Nothing’s holding me back.”
