Chapter 3 #2
“All right, girls,” Eve said, clapping a friendly hand on Kathleen’s shoulder. “We’re drunk and dumb. Let’s settle down. No cat fights at any party I’m throwing unless massage oil and mud pits are involved.” She looked between Jamie and Kathleen. “That was a joke.”
“Yeah, whatever.”
Jamie looked away. Good job, idiot. Ruin your friend’s bachelorette party because you can’t hold your tongue.
Jamie already had a tentative relationship with these women, and Kathleen was one of the worst. One could never tell if Ms. Allen, the richest woman in her own right at that table, liked anyone.
Most people debated if she even actually liked her girlfriend or if the blond harpy was simply leading Ira Mathison on.
The things I hear when people think I’m too stupid to understand what they’re saying at brunches.
“Ladies! I hope I’m not late!”
Before anyone could respond, a carefully manicured hand snatched the half-smoked cigarette from Kathleen’s. She looked like she saw a ghost – or maybe a succubus – when she glanced up at who graced them with her presence. She then looked to Eve with an expression that said, “You invited her?”
Jamie didn’t know Lara Anderssen well, other than what she heard on the petty grapevine, but she knew she was either the saving grace of this party or their worst nightmare. Jamie pulled for the former. Seeing Kathleen’s reaction was worth it.
“Didn’t think you would make it!” Eve cried over the thumping music.
“Traffic between here and Orlando was terrible. I should have flown instead of taking the scenic route. What have I missed?”
She sat between Eve and Gwenyth, her presence dominating the table.
Monique stifled laughter behind her handkerchief while Charlotte mumbled about assholes who thought they owned every place they went.
To be fair, Lara and her wife were real estate moguls back home.
They sort of did own every place they touched.
That would turn me into a huge personality too.
Nevertheless, Jamie faded into the shadows before things got crazier.
“We were discussing whether or not we licked Sappho’s ravine recently.”
“Oh, good, I’m here just in time. Now, where’s the liquor? I thought this was a party!”
The night was, dare Jamie say it, exhausting.
Everyone except Monique partook in a plethora of vices, from alcohol to cigarettes, to flirting with every good-looking woman who came their way.
Of course, there were enough hot women in that club to burn the place down.
“It’s our friend’s bachelorette party, day one!
” Gwenyth shouted at some woman with a little nose ring and not much else little about her.
The women working at this place were fit and gifted in the genetics department.
“Where the fuck do we go to get… to get some…”
The woman looked around before answering. “You want real party?” she asked with a thick accent. A thick, hot accent. “Wait here. Twenty minutes. We get you real party.”
Ho, boy. She is not kidding.
Next thing Jamie knew, all seven of them were herded to a private patio where they were given three athletic, bare-chested women to wait on them hand and foot.
For a generous tip, they would provide other services.
Like ripping off their bottoms and shoving their special delivery landing strips toward anyone willing to pay for the shipping and handling.
Charlotte practically cried, clinging to a bald woman who was more than happy to pat her shoulder as she shoved more hundred-dollar-bills down a G-string.
The only other woman there who didn’t feel guilty touching a hottie was Lara, who claimed to have permission from her generous wife to have as much fun as she wanted.
As long as she let said wife watch on camera.
That scared the other two girls off until she climbed over the table and hunted one down.
Or at least tried to. By that point, she was so drunk she had to drag herself to her chair.
“For the bride, we do anything,” said a gorgeous tanned woman with a sharp jaw.
She leaned against Monique’s chair, doing her damndest to look down at that generous cleavage.
She’s letting her. For a woman who wasn’t even a tiny bit inebriated, Monique had zero inhibitions.
Maybe Etta was right after all. “You want to touch? You can touch anything. Maybe more.”
“Darling,” Monique said, staring at those bulbous breasts as they hung free, “I know all about peddling flesh. If you’re offering yourself for a price, just say so. I may look innocent, but I am hardly anything but.”
“She ain’t just whistling a folk tune,” Gwenyth said. Like Jamie and Monique, she was not overtly drunk. “She outdoes us all when it comes to fucked up shit.”
The woman smiled, sort of. Monique batted her eyelashes, and the waitress wandered off, taking her chances with Lara… who was apparently less threatening than Monique.
“I wouldn’t tell on you, you know,” Eve said, cheek on the table. Her hand slapped next to an empty glass. “If you have fun in Miami… I won’t… I won’t tell Helen.” She sat up, woozy. “You know what? You should! You should fuck that hot loaf of banana bread! It’s your last chance!”
Monique gave her future sister-in-law the most perplexed look she could muster. “Why in the world would I do that? I’m not scared of being with only one person for the rest of my life.”
“Let me tell you!” Lara attempted to reach across their broad table but ended up falling face-first against an empty platter of nachos. “As the… as the only married woman at this table… let alone for ten fucking years… the secret… the secret…”
“Yes?” Monique’s eyebrows said she couldn’t wait to hear this.
“The secret is pussy.”
“I know. You’re at my place of business every other week with your wife.”
“Damn fucking straight I am. Praise be and hallelujah!”
Their party ended with only one person missing: Charlotte, who drunkenly took a girl back to her hotel room.
Unfortunately, she was sharing a room with Gwenyth, who moaned that there was no way she could stay there tonight.
Since she didn’t want to impose on Monique, who was sharing a suite with Jamie, she begged Eve and Kathleen to let her crash with them.
This ended with scoffs and Kathleen snoring against her best friend’s arm.
“Yeah, sure, she can sleep with me.” Eve wrapped her arm around her sleeping friend and shook her awake. “Right! We’re finally sleeping together!”
“Brother,” Monique muttered. “I think they’re having more fun at my bachelorette party than I am, and I am having a good bit of fun.”
They took a limo back to their hotel, the bellhop helping Gwenyth and Kathleen get to their rooms since they both kept insisting on passing out every few seconds.
Jamie would’ve been taken aback at how loudly Kathleen snored when she was blacked out drunk, but she had been to enough college parties back in her day.
I’m not much better. Natasha once outdrank her into the biggest stupor of her life.
“If it makes you feel better,” Jamie said, unlocking her and Monique’s room once they were alone. “I’m not drunk.”
“Thank God, because I babysit drunk women enough as it is. That’s the last thing I want to do on my last weekend before I become a married woman.”
Jamie entered the suite and picked up the room service brochure. “How does wine and popcorn with a movie sound?”
Monique pulled off her sweater and collapsed on a couch. “Popcorn, yes. I’ll pass on the wine.”
“As for the movie?” Jamie laughed. “Fifty Shades?”
“Oh, honey.” Monique picked something out from beneath her nail. “Secretary or bust.”
“I’ve never seen that movie before…”
Monique stared at her. “That’s illegal!”
Jamie placed their order for food and drink before scouring the Pay-Per-View list for one of Monique’s favorite movies. She soon found out why – and couldn’t say she disagreed.