43. Dani #2
“I don’t know,” I admit as we walk through the snow to the shopping district. “Something’s, like, bothering me. Kraig said—”
“Let me stop you right there,” Piper cuts in. “Kraig is a weirdo. He stole your undies.”
“He could be a weirdo and still be right about Graham,” I hiss. “Why else would he want to be with me? Look around.”
We step into a luxury boutique, the walls lined with silk and sequins and women who look like they belong in a fashion magazine.
“This is billionaire Disney World,” I whisper. “Any woman here would be a better match for him.”
“Or,” Piper says, “maybe he actually likes you. For you.”
Colette and the Girl Squad are already shopping. Gran’s describing the barely there cocktail dresses we need for dinner.
The sales associates hardly glance at me and Piper—until I pull out Graham’s credit card while searching for my ChapStick.
“Oh yeah,” Maya tells the sales girls. “Her almost-hubby is paying because she got lucky.”
Their smiles sharpen instantly. Champagne appears. Cheese. Chocolate.
I sink into the couch.
“Oh well, why not?”
Sipping my champagne, I start to relax. Out here, on the other side of the world, no one is talking about the kidnapped girl in the blurry video. Hopefully, by the time I get back stateside, it will all be forgotten.
Dani: How’s it going?
Dani: Sorry about your credit card.
“Delete that. Don’t send him that.” Gran swats me as she reads over my shoulder.
“We spent way more at that boutique than we should have,” I protest.
“You think we should’ve spent zero dollars. I’m here for a good time, not a long time,” Gran declares as we’re seated at a table overlooking the snowy ski slopes.
“I am so glad you came,” Colette says to Gran warmly. “You’re so much more fun than Dani. It’s crazy, it’s like Dani’s the senior citizen.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Gran says. “If I had a hot young body, you’d never keep me inside. I’d be drowning in dick.”
“I bought new clothes,” I remind them.
“You look cute. Like a chubby little winter bunny rabbit.” Colette smirks.
My practical Costco snowsuit has been officially labeled an embarrassment, which is how I ended up in a white faux-fur coat and matching skirt from the boutique. I think the effect was supposed to be snow princess, but yeah, I’m definitely giving roadkill.
“It’s my life’s work to make that girl a functional sexual being.
Thank God Graham came along, because I was going to have to inject her with sperm I found on the internet in order to get a great-grandbaby.
Don’t get your panties all twisted up,” Gran calls to me while the waiter is probably thinking that we’re uncultured American swine.
“I would have made sure it was high-quality sperm.”
“Graham’s got high-quality sperm.” Maya giggles.
“You better make sure you keep him happy, or someone else is going to snap him up,” Greta adds.
We’re seated at an outdoor fondue terrace overlooking the ski slopes. Heat lamps glow overhead. The table is set with bubbling copper pots—one cheese, one chocolate—and platters piled high with crusty bread, roasted potatoes, apples, strawberries, marshmallows, and slices of smoked sausage.
Steam from the ceramic pots curls into the cold mountain air. Below us, skiers carve elegant lines down the mountain.
I breathe in the smell of melted cheese and fresh snow.
Piper and I are seated on the outskirts of the long table, but I don’t mind.
“This is what I came here for.” I tear off a piece of crusty baguette, spear it with a fork, and dunk it into the cheese sauce.
I check my phone. Still nothing from Graham.
Piper’s right. He’s probably busy. I’m not going to stress.
Lulu barks and tries to jump over the balcony to get to the group of young guys who are waving up at us. They are hot in the way unemployed ski bums are.
“Yes, please!” The bachelorettes wave all the hot skiers up.
More chairs are brought by the magical waiters, and I’m sure all that magic is going to show up on Graham’s tab.
Maybe that’s why he’s not speaking to me. Colette’s right, and this trip was a guilt move so that he doesn’t feel bad when he comes to his senses and dumps me later.
“Hi, ladies.”
“We’re all in relationships,” I say loudly.
“Speak for yourself!” Piper giggles.
“That’s okay, I can be poly.” One of the men waggles his eyebrows.
“Yes, please.” Gran grabs the closest two.
One guy with an Italian accent tries to feed me a chocolate-covered strawberry. I wave him off.
“Stop being so boring. This is my bachelorette! Have fun!” Colette orders.
“Yes, have fun,” the man cajoles in an Italian accent.
Colette tosses her hair. “Dani’s got a boyfriend now”—Colette makes air quotes—“and she thinks she’s the first girl in New York to land a guy. She’s so uptight about it. It’s kind of pathetic, really. Especially since her boyfriend’s not that into her. Graham hasn’t texted you once, has he?”
“He’s busy,” I say automatically.
“I’m friends with a lot of women”—the ski bum leans forward—“who are with men who are always ‘busy.’”
“Do you boys like to party, or are you still skiing?” Nora purrs. “We’re staying at the Palace Hotel.”
“We have suites!” Maya says.
“And unlimited drinks!” Greta shimmies her shoulders.
“Does your billionaire boyfriend go down on you?” A ski bum drapes an arm around me.
“What the—what?”
He makes an obscene gesture with his tongue.
“Damn right he does!” Gran crows as my face turns red and I down my wine.
Gran’s hotel room is decorated with pink-and-white penis decorations. Which means that my hotel room is decorated with these things.
Maybe I shouldn’t have been so worried about how it would look and should have spent Graham’s money on one more room that I could escape to, because this one has been turned into penis central.
“Is that an éclair shaped like a dick?”
“Dude, they have a caviar dick mold here.”
The bachelorettes take photos with the novelty penis decorations as the ski bums carry some of the girls in.
“Do you want a fashion show?” Colette straddles one of the ski bums.
“We can do an underwear-model show!”
“Whoo, take it off!” Piper hollers.
“Sorry,” Piper mouths to me. “But you get to go home to a guy. I have to go home to your parents’ house.”
“No strippers. We’re not paying you,” I warn the ski bums.
“I’m here to party, ma meuf.”
There’s a knock on the door. I hope it’s hotel security throwing us out.
But there aren’t any burly security guards to kick the ski bums out and tell us to be quiet. Instead, it’s a lanky man in a tux and bow tie with tails and a top hat. He has an oversized black suitcase with him.
“I’m sorry. I think you have the wrong room.” I rub my temple. I had way too much wine.
“I am Magnus the Marvelous!”
“Nope.” I try to shut the door.
“Dani, now look here.” Gran hustles over, a bottle of vodka in one hand. “Now you have to shape up, girlie. This is a bachelorette party, and you’re bringing down the vibes. Women support women.”
“You don’t have to sleep with any of these men—just sit back and enjoy the magic show.” Piper whoops.
The lanky man breezes past me.
I go hide in a corner as Magnus waves his arms and the suitcase turns into a table.
What the hell?
“I am Magnus the Marvelous!” the man announces, his hands outstretched. “And I need payment upfront before we can start the show.”
Everyone stares at me.
“Dani, pay the man.” Gran slaps a blow-up penis on the table.
“Credit card? I charge an extra fee,” Magnus informs me, showing me his phone.
“One thousand?” I choke on the price as I use the cash transfer app. “Um, excuse me, what are you doing here? You cannot be a stripper.”
Also, I really should not have used Graham’s card.
“You don’t need a stripper.” He rolls up his sleeves and pulls out a wand. “When you have Magnus!”
He claps his hands. “My first trick,” he announces, “is a classic. Sit.” He orders me away from him. “I can’t have you knowing my secrets.” He takes a napkin from the table and makes a big show of shaking it out.
“Empty,” he says. “Truly empty.” He snaps his fingers. A very familiar object drops onto the table. Silence.
“That’s…” I clamp my mouth shut as the dildo bounces on the coffee table.
“Oh my God!” Colette and the Girl Squad start giggling.
Gran’s face lights up in recognition.
No, no, no.
“Hey, that’s yours.”
“Gran!”
“You brought that dildo here?” Shrieks of laughter from the Girl Squad.
“I threw that away,” I whisper. “I thought I’d chucked it in Graham’s garbage.”
“Wait, you needed a dildo with Graham?” Colette asks critically.
“No, it was a joke. It was nothing,” I blurt out.
Magnus bows. “Magic finds all things.”
Before I can process what’s happening, he grabs one of the ski bums. “Sir, reach behind your ear.”
The man does. Out comes a pair of lace underwear.
The room erupts.
“Oh my God, are those your panties, Maya?” one of the Girl Squad shrieks.
“They’re too big for her.” Colette is smirking at me.
I look down. “How did you get these off?”
The panties go sailing through the air, and one of the ski bums catches them mid-spin while dancing on the table in only his ski boots and boxer briefs. He spins my underwear around above his head. They’ve clearly been cut.
“I hope no one is filming,” I moan.
Magnus pulls the top hat off his head and bops to the techno music the ski bums are playing. His hat is empty. He twirls it in his hands.
He reaches into his own top hat, squints, then slowly pulls out—
“Booya!” he yells and yanks a rabbit out of his hat to shrieks from the Girl Squad.
“You should see him do that with his dick.” Gran waggles her eyebrows.
“Ladies!” The suite door opens, and there’s Francois with more drinks.
He takes one look at Magnus the Marvelous, and his face twists up.
“You!” he spits at the magician.
“She invited me!” Magnus hollers.
“Why did you have me put up all of these decorations if we’re not going to make love?” Francois demands.
“Now we’re in Switzerland, Francois, so I’m getting ready to experience my fondue pot of hot guys!”
“You said you didn’t have any complaints earlier today.”