16. Bachelor Party Punk
WEST
“Welcome to the den of vices and lost weekends, gentlemen.” I push open the door to an underground cigar bar that better be the shit for what it cost. The air’s thick with the scent of bad decisions and Paige’s disapproval. No strippers, she said, and we’re sticking to that. Who needs them when we’ve got whiskey and decks of cards?
“This place is sweet,” Zach slurs, already halfway to tomorrow’s hangover. He’s got a goofy grin plastered on his face.
“Only the best for the groom.” I clap him on the back as we navigate through the haze of leather chairs and wood panels. Each inhale is a mix of peat whiskey and smoke from cigars that cost more than my first car.
We’ve got the whole joint to ourselves, and I can’t help but feel like a king amongst men. “Tonight we gamble like our bank accounts are endless and our luck never runs dry.”
“Hear, hear!” One groomsman calls out, his eyes glowing in the dim light like he’s found religion on a roulette wheel.
“West, this is a lot of booze. You sure Paige won’t freak?” Kyle, one of the other groomsmen, eyeballs me. He’s known Paige since she was knee high to a grasshopper, and he’s as scared of her wrath as any sane man should be.
“Relax, my dude,” I assure him, though I can’t help but feel a tickle of doubt that Paige is definitely not cool with Zach getting so drunk he’s going to be struggling tomorrow. But I’m not about to let him down on his last weekend of freedom. “Besides,” I chuckle, “Paige doesn’t have to know.”
We settle into a round of poker, the kind where bluffing’s more important than your hand. Whiskey flows, and laughter mixes with clinking ice cubes. The place is windowless, so you can forget your problems and the whole world outside.
“Zach, buddy, go easy on the hard stuff,” I say. “Remember, you want to still be standing when you say ‘I do’,” but he’s too busy being the happiest man alive to care.
But hey, tonight is all about friends, cards, and making memories we’ll half remember. And as long as this night doesn’t involve strippers, we’re golden.
“Fellows, fellows, fellows!” Zach hollers, waving his phone. “The future Mrs. has delivered her blessings!”
“Wait, what?” My heart stutters to a stop.
“Voicemail from the resort’s phone,” Zach informs us. “Paige says there’s a surprise headed our way. A stripper!”
“Seriously?” The skepticism in my voice could cut glass. “Paige said that?”
“Swear on my lucky Ninja Turtle boxers,” Zach slurs, fumbling with his phone to replay the message. The voice that floats out is definitely Paige. And the words are clear: “Zach, babe, I changed my mind. Enjoy your surprise...”
“Right on,” someone yells, and the mood shifts from casual debauchery to pure pandemonium.
“Um...” I say, but Zach’s already pumping his fists in the air. “Let’s get lost in some tatas!”
The cheer that erupts could wake the dead.
“Christ on a cracker,” I mutter. I heard the message, but Paige was adamant—no strippers.
The door swings open, and a red-haired beauty wearing a sparkly thong bikini struts in, all legs and curves with a smile promising trouble. Her eyes lock onto Zach, who’s been waiting for this since Paige cut him off after they started dating. The guys cheer, slapping Zach as he sits there, wasted and wide-eyed.
“Boys, your entertainment has arrived,” she purrs, voice velvet over the husk. Zach can’t seem to decide if he wants to pass out or be knighted. In seconds, she’s all over him, gyrating.
“Dude, this is epic!” someone hollers as I watch, a bystander in the madness. Zach is now officially drowning in a sea of sequins and flesh, his face buried in cleavage deep enough to lose coins. The stripper is doing her job, and her body is banging.