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I see Michael kick an imaginary can, and I smile in pity of the guy. Right after, I run upstairs and knock on Kiera’s door, knowing I will be rejected like Michael was.
“Elsa!” I call in a loud, friendly voice.
I hear a commotion inside, and Elsa comes to the door a moment later. She gives me a gorgeous smile and is looking entertained by my crazy-ass family.
“Are you leaving now?” she asks, holding onto the door frame.
“Yeah,” I say. “Are you going to be okay?”
She nods with confidence, and I feel relief.
“I’m getting along with them just fine. They’re not so interested in me as they are in me getting interested in them,” she whispers.
I think for a second. “Pretty sure that was an offense to my family, but okay. Just be careful not to drink too much.”
Elsa snickers. “Why?”
I shrug. “I don’t know how you are when you’re drunk. What if you spill the beans to my mom and my grandma?”
“Don’t worry, Harvey.” She rolls her eyes but then smiles with empathy. “I’m a better actress than I look. And I’m over my original nerves.”
“Alright. See you later, then.”
Without realizing it, I lean down to kiss her, getting a whiff of her hair. She smells like strawberries. When she giggles and dodges me, I refuse to be defeated and kiss the corner of her lips instead.
She blushes, getting beet-red, and I know that my cheeks have acquired a reddish color as well. We part ways without a word. She goes back inside the bedroom, and I head back downstairs.
“Okay, now I’m ready to go,” I say, and everyone instantly flees for the front door.
We drive two towns over to the famed strip club Grant claims to be the favorite of afriend.
The place is fancy, and the girls are young and pretty, I will give him that. But I always feel like a fish out of water in these places because paying for female attention feels uncomfortable to me. I’ve never had to pay for it, even before getting rich.
Grant, who takes the lead of the group, looks around, lost for a second, and then walks up to the bartender.
“Um, we’re the group here for the Champagne Room?” he asks.
The man looks at him intently with one eye, the other hidden behind his eye patch, then looks to the side and cups his hand around his mouth to yell, “Hey, Ross! The bachelor party is here!”
A man immediately comes out from behind a wall of beauties. He’s short, stocky, and very bald, and comes to us with open arms and a huge grin on his face.
“Come on in, boys. Your room is ready!” he signals widely with his arms, “Follow me!”
It’s Saturday night and the place is packed, so we dodge all kinds of sleazy types and topless girls to reach our room.
I see James’ father shove a bunch of singles into his pocket as we walk in; the place is as finely decorated as much as a strip club can be.
Couches encircle the area of the strip poles and champagne-colored curtains drape around what are supposed to be Roman-styled pillars. At the end of the room, there’s a wall full of small monitors, each of them showing a different porn movie.
“Can we switch the channel on those?” I ask Ross, raising a thumb toward the TVs.
The man looks at me with wide eyes and a frown, clearly taking offense. “That’s not a request we normally have, sir…”
“Dude, do you know who he is?” Uncle Mark says. “Harvey Baker, center for the Boston Arctic Wolves!”
“Oh, the NHL team!” Ross slaps his forehead, “Of course! Any preference?”
I look at my phone and see one of my favorite adult cartoons is airing now, and I tell him.
