Chapter twenty - seven Kendra
Chapter twenty-seven
Kendra
“Alright, ladies! Is anyone in the house celebrating her last night of freedom?!”
The DJ draws out the last word, adding air horn sound effects and releasing a fresh burst of confetti from somewhere in the ceiling, while the girls and I try to out-scream the three other groups vying for rowdiest bachelorette here at Hunk-O-Mania.
Surprisingly, Camila’s the loudest of all.
On the party bus from New York to Atlantic City, I couldn’t get a read on her.
She seemed quiet. Not shy, but maybe a little…
reserved. But after a few shots of 1800, she started showing off her pole dancing skills to our drunken cheers and even attempted to pleasure her penis-shaped lollipop while we all giggled profusely.
It’s hard to believe this wild woman is marrying Henry Park, the most notoriously cutthroat divorce attorney in the city.
He’s probably a freak between the sheets to bag a baddie like this.
Despite not wanting to come initially, I’m glad I did.
It’s always awesome to hang with Denise, Maya, and Tiffany—the Three Amigas, as they call themselves—but Camila and her sister Rory have been an unexpected blast, too.
Tiffany kicked off the bachelorette scavenger hunt, hence why we’re here trying to snap a pic of Camila putting a twenty in a stripper’s G-string, and Rory has been leading a raunchy game of Never Have I Ever in between quests.
“Never have I ever…” Rory starts, looking around the group mischievously, “Frenched a girl!”
Everyone breaks out in hoots and whistles, those who’ve dabbled in a little sapphic love putting a finger down.
I put one down, Denise puts one down—no surprise there—and Tiff puts one down.
She’s eyeing Rory the same way she looked at the nachos she housed two bars ago; like she’s ready to eat her up. Or, more accurately, out.
I look back and forth between the two women.
“Do you want to?” Tiffany asks coquettishly, and I don’t miss the heat that flickers in Rory’s eyes. I elbow Denise.
“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?” I whisper under my breath. Denise wipes imaginary smudges off her glow-in-the-dark penis glasses.
“Everything is checking out!”
We giggle behind our hands, watching Tiffany surreptitiously move closer.
Before Rory can suggest the game changes from Never Have I Ever to Spin the Bottle, the DJ directs a spotlight to our table.
“Who’s the lucky lady set to walk down the aisle?!” he asks.
“Wooooo!” is Camila’s response, and we and the neighboring table bust out laughing at her enthusiasm.
“I’m guessing she’s the bride. What do we think, everyone?” the DJ asks the crowd with a smirk. The rest of the audience laughs while Camila makes her way to the main stage for the customary bridal lap dance. Maya and Rory both hand her twenties as she passes.
“So,” Denise leans over, the liquor turning her whisper into a yell, “you seem happy tonight.” I give her a pleased grin. “I take it Damon has something to do with the extra sway in your hips this evening?”
I bite my lip, unable to keep from preening.
Ever since I decided to ignore my baggage and just be with him, and he admitted how deep his feelings for me really go, we’ve been inseparable.
I literally woke up with his head between my thighs this morning while he licked and stroked me to orgasm.
He said it was to keep me warm while I was gone, and my pussy hasn’t stopped humming since.
Maya scoots closer to join our whisper chat.
“Oooh! Is she spilling the deets about Damon? What is going on with you two?” she asks before taking another shot.
“We’ve been hanging out,” I answer, taking my own shot to stall their questions. They merely blink at me, waiting for more details. “He was still at my place when I left tonight. Is that what you want to hear?”
They both squeal, and I roll my eyes good-naturedly.
“Hell yeah, that’s what we want to hear, girl!” Denise says, pulling me in for a hug. “I’m just waiting for you to tell me when the double-date is.”
“Triple-date,” Maya protests.
A loud cheer from the crowd draws our attention back to the stage, where Camila is using her teeth to put a twenty in the thong of a toned stripper’s G-string. Maya peeks through her hands while Rory records a short video and immediately sends it to the group chat.
“If this is who he’s marrying, Henry, Jr., must be a lot different behind closed doors,” Tiffany says. She looks impressed. I’m just glad I’m not the only one who thought Henry was more the fun police type.
“It’s always the buttoned-up ones you have to watch,” Denise chimes in. “They’re the ones with the foot fetish and the secret sex dungeons.”
“Oh my God. That’s gonna be my brother-in-law!” Rory wails. Denise looks at her apologetically.
“My bad, girl.”
“But you have to admit all five of these brothers a foine!” Maya teases.
She’s not wrong. Henry Park, Sr. and Mrs. Park are five for five in the hot sons department.
“I may be married, but I’m not blind!” Maya laughs, and we all join her. “Speaking of not blind,” she mutters under her breath, then jerks her head toward Rory and Tiffany, who are now sitting just inches apart.
“I know!” I say. “What’s happening there?”
“Something’s going on,” Denise replies, “because they’ve been flirting since Tiffany got on the bus.”
“Does Rory get down like that?” I ask, too drunk to care if I’m being nosy.
“Tiffany definitely does,” Maya answers, “but I’m still getting to know Rory. Soon we’ll be family, so I can really get to know her!”
The song ends with applause, and Camila comes back to our VIP table, plopping down next to her sister, who seems a little annoyed to be interrupted.
“I ran out of money,” Camila pouts. Tiffany snorts into her vodka cranberry, spilling down her shirt.
“Don’t worry. We’ll get you some more, sis,” Rory reassures her gently, finger-combing the silver confetti from Camila’s hair. When Rory stands to go to the ATM, though, Camila yanks her back down.
“No!” she demands, her voice slurring. “First, a toast!” She raises her bride-to-be goblet, and we raise our bottle service cups. “I’m so happy you all came out to celebrate with me tonight. I know we don’t know each other well—”
“Yet!” Tiffany shouts. We howl enthusiastically in agreement before quieting back down.
“Between our mom passing,” Camila sends Rory a watery smile, “work, and life in general, I’ve always struggled to find a tight-knit friend group.”
She gestures to Maya, Denise, and Tiffany with her glass, spilling her margarita onto the already damp VIP couch and Maya’s shoes.
“I mean, seriously!” Splash. “You are goals!” Splash.
Maya smiles while discreetly dabbing the sticky liquid off her feet. Rory mouths “sorry” with a pained expression.
“But you all seem so amazing. Successful, smart, and hella hot!” Denise and I both giggle. Camila raises her glass even higher. “To girlfriends!”
“To girlfriends!” the group echoes.
I started tonight a little anxious. Next week is my first Thanksgiving with Dad, Debbie, and Debbie’s kids since they got married three years ago.
Between my crazy work schedule, obligations with Andre’s family, and holidays with Uncle Cordell and Jeremiah, there was never any time left to see my dad’s new place and his replacement wife.
I shake my head at myself. That was mean. I may have also been avoiding getting to know my new stepmom, but Dad put his foot down this year. His text about Thanksgiving included the word mandatory.
Dinner with my family meant turning down Damon’s invitation to eat with his family, something I was already stewing about. And I have an important gig in Bali that I leave for the following day!
But somehow, with these relative strangers, I’m laughing, drinking jello shots, and having the time of my life in Atlantic City of all places. Through a series of seemingly unrelated events, I found an incredible group of women that just might be my tribe. To girlfriends indeed!