Chapter 11
brIGGS
The pounding on my hotel room door felt like someone was taking a sledgehammer directly to my skull. Each bang reverberated through my brain, which seemed to have turned into liquid overnight and was now sloshing painfully against the inside of my cranium.
“Go away,” I groaned, but my voice came out as a croak.
The pounding continued. Whoever was out there had zero respect for human suffering.
I cracked one eye open. The sun streaming through the window was a jagged dagger piercing my eyelids like they were made of cellophane. My skull felt cracked in half, aching and tender. I tried to sit up and immediately regretted every decision I’d made in the last twelve hours.
Although the last twelve hours were a little murky.
I was in my slacks and my white shirt was half undone and wrinkled as hell. I had one shoe on. The foot without the shoe was also missing a sock.
For fuck’s sake, what the hell happened last night?
The pounding intensified.
“I’m coming,” I called out, which was a mistake because speaking made my head throb even harder.
I lurched toward the door. My legs didn’t want to cooperate. My feet felt like I was wearing wooden blocks. The room tilted at odd angles. My stomach churned ominously.
I yanked open the door, squinting against the hallway light.
Dash stood there, grinning like the cat who’d caught the canary. He was wearing sunglasses and holding two cups of coffee, looking disgustingly chipper for whatever ungodly hour it was.
“Good morning, sunshine!” he said, way too loudly.
“Shut up,” I muttered, turning away from him. “How did you even know I was here?”
“Your assistant, Jasmine.”
“She’s fired,” I said with a groan.
He laughed. “You and Adrian always jumping to the firing.”
“Why are you here? What time is it? Is that coffee?”
He followed me into the room uninvited. “You’re trending, big brother.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I asked sourly.
“Congratulations.” He handed me one of the coffees. “I’m a little annoyed I didn’t get an invitation, but sometimes love can’t wait, I suppose.”
I stared at him. My brain was moving like molasses. Nothing he was saying made any sense. “What are you talking about, Dash? I’m too hungover for riddles.”
Dash grabbed my hand and held it up in front of my face, pointing at something shiny on my finger.
A ring.
A wedding ring.
“What the hell is that?” I asked, eyes narrowing in confusion.
“You got married, dumbass,” Dash said, still grinning. “It’s all over social media.”
I stared at the ring. Gold band. Simple. Definitely not something I owned yesterday. Nor was it anything I would have purposely chosen for myself. My stomach lurched violently.
I barely made it to the bathroom before I threw up everything I’d apparently consumed last night. Which, judging by the taste, was a lot of alcohol and very little food. Whiskey. Tequila. Gross.
I heard Dash’s voice from the other room. “Yeah, he’s awake. Sort of. He’s currently communing with the porcelain god.”
Who the hell was he talking to?
I flushed, rinsed my mouth, and stared at my reflection in the mirror. I looked like death. My hair was a disaster. There were dark circles under my bloodshot eyes.
And there was a wedding ring on my finger.
I brushed my teeth with shaking hands, trying to piece together the night. Nothing. Just blank spaces where memories should be. After the wedding reception, it was all a blur.
I walked back into the main room of my suite. Dash was on his phone, scrolling through something.
Then Sebastian walked in without knocking, holding a bunch of balloons and a wrapped present. The silver balloons said “Congratulations!” in metallic letters.
“I can’t believe you got married before me and Bernadette,” Sebastian said, shaking his head. “She’s not happy about that, let me tell you. But congrats anyway.” He thrust the present at me. “Here’s a toaster.”
I took the box automatically. “A toaster.”
“Every married couple needs a good toaster.” He shrugged. “It’s a nice one. It does bagels.”
“I’m not married. And I already have a toaster.”
“Tell that to TMZ,” Dash said, turning his phone around to show me the screen.
There I was, in full color, standing in what looked like a wedding chapel. And next to me, wearing her pink dress from the reception, was Mandy.
We were both smiling. I had my arm around her waist. She was holding a bouquet of flowers that looked suspiciously like they’d been grabbed from one of the centerpieces at the reception.
“Oh fuck,” I breathed.
“Yeah.” Dash pocketed his phone. “Fuck is right. Adrian wants to talk to you by the way. He’s calling in a minute.”
As if on cue, Dash’s phone rang. He answered it and propped it up on the desk so we could all see the screen.
Adrian’s face appeared. He did not look happy. He was holding baby Bucky, who was sleeping peacefully, completely unaware that his uncle had just fucked up royally.
“Briggs,” Adrian said, his voice deadly calm. “Want to explain to me why I’m seeing photos of you getting married to the woman we’re trying to bring into a business partnership?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “It’s the first I’m hearing of it.”
“You don’t know,” Adrian repeated.
“I don’t remember.”
His mouth dropped open. I could tell he wanted to shout but he kept his voice low so he didn’t wake the kid. “You don’t remember getting married?”
“No,” I said. The word tasted bitter.
Sebastian snorted with laughter. Dash was trying not to smile.
“Get him cleaned up,” Adrian told them. “We need to get on top of this.”
“I need toast,” I said. “Maybe pancakes.”
“Shower,” Sebastian said. “You stink. Bad. And brush your teeth.”
“I already did,” I said.
“Well then brush them again.”
I couldn’t even argue because I smelled myself. And it wasn’t good.
Twenty minutes later, I was dressed in khakis and a polo. I wasn’t interested in getting in a car. Or walking in the Vegas sunshine. So we chose one of the restaurants in the casino.
I stared down at the menu, my stomach growling despite the lingering nausea. The restaurant was thankfully dim, which my pounding head appreciated. I ordered my usual hangover remedy. Eggs, bacon, pancakes, hash browns and toast. If I was going to deal with this disaster, I needed fuel.
Dash was still scrolling through his phone, occasionally snickering. Sebastian had his phone out too. I didn’t like the way his grin kept getting wider.
“What now?” I groaned.
“Oh, you’re going to love this,” Sebastian said, turning his phone toward me.
The video started playing. There I was, standing on a small stage with a microphone in one hand and a drink in the other. The opening notes of Elvis’s “Can’t Help Falling in Love” started playing, and drunk-me began to sing. Badly. Very, very badly.
But that wasn’t even the worst part.
The worst part was that I was singing directly to Mandy, who was sitting at a table in front of the stage, clapping and laughing. Her face was flushed, her hair was messy, and she looked like she was having the time of her life.
I was serenading her like some lovesick fool.
“Oh my God,” I muttered, dropping my head into my hands.
“Keep watching,” Dash said, barely containing his laughter.
On screen, I stumbled off the stage after the song ended and made my way to Mandy’s table. She stood up, still laughing. I pulled her into my arms. Then we were dancing, right there in the middle of the bar, swaying to music that was no longer playing.
The video ended.
I looked up at my brothers. “That has to be AI.”
“There’s video from multiple angles,” Dash said, shaking his head. “I’m afraid we can’t blame the robots on this one.”
I groaned. “Please tell me that’s the worst of it.”
“Oh no,” Sebastian said, wiping tears from his eyes. “There’s more. So much more. Someone made a compilation. It’s got like two million views already.”
“Two million,” I repeated.
“You’re a star,” Dash said. “Who knew you had it in you?”
Our meals arrived. I attacked it with the desperation of a man who needed something to make this day better.
“So, I guess I’m the responsible brother now,” Dash said sadly.
I looked up from my eggs. “What?”
“Well, you just got married to a business partner after a drunken night in Vegas. That’s pretty irresponsible. I’d say that makes me the new golden child.”
“Fuck off.” I stabbed at my pancakes.
“Maybe I should handle the documents and negotiations going forward,” he said. “Since you clearly can’t be trusted with important business deals.”
“Seriously, fuck off.”
“Do I need to go to law school now?” Dash continued, thoroughly enjoying himself. “Since you’re obviously retired from being the competent one?”
I pointed my fork at him. “By all means, fuck off to law school.”
Sebastian laughed again. “This is amazing. All these years of you being perfect, never making a mistake, always having your shit together. And you go to Vegas for one night and end up married to a woman you don’t even remember marrying.”
“I don’t think she even signed the contract,” I said.
That stopped them both.
“Wait,” Dash said. “You got married to her, but she didn’t sign the contract?”
“I don’t think so. Hell, I don’t even know. Maybe I gave it to her to hold on to.”
“Where is your wife?” Dash asked.
“No clue,” I muttered.
Dash whistled. “Adrian is going to lose his mind.”
“Adrian already lost his mind,” I corrected.
My brain was starting to function again, piecing together what needed to happen next.
“I need to find Mandy,” I said.
“Your wife,” Sebastian interjected.
“Vegas marriages can be annulled,” I said. “I’m not the first one to do this. Won’t be the last.”
“Did you consummate the marriage?” Sebastian asked.
I tried to remember. I really tried. But it was a total blur. I remembered the wedding. I remembered the first couple of drinks. I think I remembered dancing with her. But sex? I was drawing a blank. Somehow, I was pretty sure I would remember that.
“I don’t remember, but I don’t feel like I had sex last night,” I said, frowning.
“Well, that’s going to be an interesting conversation with your wife,” Sebastian said. “Hey, did we bone last night? Because I need to know for legal reasons.”
“This is a nightmare.” I sullenly chewed on a piece of bacon.
“This is the best day of my life,” Dash said. “I’m never letting you forget this. Never. You know how many of your lectures I’ve had to sit through? Well, the shoe’s on the other foot now, pal.”
I finished my eggs and moved on to the rest of the pancakes. “Do you chuckleheads have a plan or are you just here to break my balls?”
“The plan is simple,” Sebastian said. “You go find Mandy. You figure out what happened last night. You get the marriage annulled. And then maybe you can salvage the business deal.”
“And you need to do it before we fly back tonight,” Dash added. “Because Adrian wants you back in New York. He’s handling damage control on his end, but he needs to be spending time with his wife and child. You have to clean this up.”
I checked my phone. It was already past noon. How long had I been passed out? “Do we know where she is?”
Sebastian and Dash exchanged a look. “You really don’t know where your wife is?”
“Stop calling her that. I don’t remember going to my room. But I assume she’s in her room, wherever she’s staying.”
“Damn, man,” Dash said with a shake of his head. “You really got that wasted?”
“Apparently.” I slapped a hand against my face. “Fuck me. I’m guessing I didn’t even sign a prenup.”
Sebastian laughed. “You think she wants your money?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about the woman. Maybe that was her plan. Get me drunk enough to marry her.”
Dash looked thoughtful. “It’s not totally impossible, but doubtful.”
“I need to see if she signed the contract,” I said. “We’ll start there.”
“I can’t believe you’re married,” Dash said with a laugh.
“Say it again and I’m going to stick this fork in your eye.” I turned to Sebastian. “Call Cleo and have her find out where Mandy is. I don’t even have her damn number.”
Dash started laughing again. I was glad he was enjoying this. I couldn’t believe I had fucked up so badly. I never did this shit. I arranged solutions. I wasn’t the one creating the problems.
Except now, I was. And I had no idea how to fix the mess I made.