Perfectly Ever After (Pieces) (2 page)

The bus was loud as we all fought to be heard over one another. We recounted stories from the past, everyone having a tale to tell since I had met each of them at a different point in my life. I was actually surprised at how well they all got along, considering many of them didn't know each other very well, if at all.

We pulled up to Gibson's at eight after hitting the moderate traffic we had anticipated. Frank made his way to the front of our group and announced our arrival to the hostess, who smiled pleasantly at him.

"Just give us a few moments. We're preparing your table right now."

"No sweat, sweetheart. Take all the time you need." His response was off-putting enough in itself, but when he threw in a wink at the end, I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back into the group.

"Take it easy, creepy Casanova," I murmured.

Frank looked affronted. "Whadaya mean? I was just talking to her about the table."

"Listen, it's bad enough that you're dressed like Heavy D. Can you try to not make every woman you encounter reach for her mace?"

Frank scoffed. "Please, chicks dig the attention." Then he walked away from me, as though
I
were the crazy one.

Troy leaned toward me. "You're the one who made him the best man. You have only yourself to blame for what happens tonight."
He chuckled loudly as he clapped a hand against my shoulder.

"Just promise me one thing," I said seriously, turning toward him. "When this ship starts to sink, save yourself." We both laughed, and I was glad I wasn't the only one who found Frank's
behavior over the top.

"Okay, we're ready for you now," the hostess said sweetly.

"Oh, you better—"

"Frank," I warned
, and he wisely let his sentence go unfinished.

We followed her back to a secluded section of the restaurant that could accommodate our large party.

After our drinks were ordered, we talked about nothing of much importance. In fact, the rest of dinner passed that way as well.

Finally, after we were all stuffed to the max, Frank stood up and cleared his throat.

Shit.
Frank had sat at the other end of the table, and I hadn't heard much from him during dinner, which I hoped meant he had calmed down a little. But that hope began to fade as I heard him yell, "Shut up, you assholes."

The table fell silent and we all looked at him expectantly.

"Now I've known Adam since we were kids. And over the years—"

"Save the speech for the wedding," Braden yelled.

"Shut up, dickhead," Frank growled. "Now as I was saying, over the years, I've seen a lot of women come and go in Adam's life. Well, maybe not
a lot
of women. You're pretty lame, you know that?"

I mumbled a "Fuck you," and picked up my beer.

"Anyway, there wasn't a single woman you dated who was ever good enough for you and Eva. Not a single one who made you truly happy. Until Carly. I'm glad you found her, man. Now you better hurry up and get that ring on her finger before she realizes what a douche you are," he said with a sly grin. "So let's raise our glasses to Adam and one of his last nights as a single man."

The guys lifted their drinks for the toast.
I smiled at Frank, who grinned back at me. For as crazy as the man could get, he had had my back since we were in elementary school. And his support had never wavered once in all the years I’d known him. He didn't always seem like it, but Frank was a good friend.

"Now let's get drunk and
grab some tits."

I quickly looked around, hoping the other diners hadn't heard Frank's declaration of debauchery. Draining my beer, I stood up to follow the group to the bus as I thought about how there was only one set of tits I wanted my hands on tonight. And I certainly wasn't going to find them wherever Frank was taking me. At least I hoped not.

***

Our first stop was Jezebel's, one of the nicer gentlemen's clubs in the city. It had a liquor license, so we didn't need to cart the beer cooler inside. Frank had evidentially told them we were coming, because we didn't need to pay the cover before being let inside.

We lasted fifteen minutes.

"If they don't like dirty talk, they should choose a different profession," Frank charged.

"Dude, no chick wants to be asked if she can deep-throat a cucumber." Charlie sighed in frustration.

"It was a serious question," Frank argued.

"How the hell does Claire put up with you? You have the maturity of a twelve-year-old," Troy declared.

"Please, I'm the best thing that ever happened to her," Frank said, trying to maintain a straight face, but failing miserably.

"Right, some prize," I countered before turning to Troy and answering his question. "And he doesn't act this way when Claire is around because she'd kick his ass up and down Broad Street."

"I get one night of freedom every like five years for fuck's sake. I'll be damned if I'm not going to enjoy it."
Frank pouted as we boarded the bus and set off for our next stop.

Oh, he's got to be kidding.
I looked out the window as the bus pulled to a stop and took in the run-down building lit up by a gaudy neon sign.

"Are we really stopping at The Magic Shop?" I nearly whined. This place was notorious for dirty deeds and skanky strippers. I was pretty sure you could catch
gonorrhea just from sitting on the stools.

"We sure are."
Frank's eyes were bright, his excitement evident by the way he pushed himself to the front of the bus and hopped off.

A couple of the guys grabbed the beer cooler, and followed Frank off the bus.

I looked over at Doug, who simply shrugged his shoulders and started off the bus. Finally, I rubbed a hand over my face and followed my friends toward the building.

Again, w
e were let right in and directed to a roped off section to the left of the center stage. I briefly looked up at the girl currently dancing on the pole. She looked young, but weathered, like she'd been ridden hard and put away wet. Her stomach had stretch marks, probably from the children she was up there trying to support. This was why I hated places like this. At the nicer establishments, you could convince yourself that the girls were all students trying to pay their way through med school. A brighter life was just a lap dance away for them. But the women here had no other choice. They danced to survive, and it was damned depressing.

I slunk back into my chair, trying to look anywhere but at the completely naked woman on the stage. It felt . . .
wrong to ogle her. Not that the prospect of doing so was all that appealing anyway.

I spent the next twenty minutes making conversation with my friends in
the hopes of avoiding any of the topless women who tried to get close to me. It didn't help my effort that Frank kept pointing to me and tucking money in their G-strings. Just as I was beginning to think that the girls had gotten the hint that I didn't want their attention, I was proven dead wrong.

"All right, gentlemen, it's time for our ladies to show one particular man what he'll be missing afte
r he gets married next weekend."

The announcer's voice caused my entire body to seize.
They better not be talking about me.

"
So come up on stage, Adam, and get your punishment for making the biggest mistake of your life."

The announcer laughed at his joke, but I didn't see the
humor. He was obviously insinuating that my getting married was a mistake. But the only mistake I'd made was agreeing to come into this hovel. Well, that and allowing Frank to plan my bachelor party. No way was I going up on stage. Nope. Nah-uh.

"Get up there, Adam," Frank yelled with a big, shit-eating grin on his face.

I'm going to fucking kill him.

"Come on, big guy," Troy added. "It's a
rite of passage."

I looked up at the stage where two women, one in some sort of cheap
Catwoman suit, and the other in a policewoman getup, were waiting on me to join them.
There is no place on this earth where I would willingly walk
toward
those two.

Though it quickly became evident that I wasn't being given a ton of free will in this instance anyway. Doug, Frank, and Brian all flanked me and forcibly pulled me from my chair. I had never wanted to stay seated on an STD
-infested chair so badly in my life.

Once they had me standing, the bastards lifted me up on stage. The other patrons/sex-offenders were cheering me on as my former band of brothers started chanting my name. Even up on stage, I made no move to get closer to the girls. Sensing my hesitation,
Catwoman decided to take things into her own hands because she strutted toward me, grabbed the front of my shirt, and yanked me to the chair that had been set up on stage.

I knew a lot of things in
that moment: I knew I wanted to be virtually anywhere but there. I knew Frank was an asshole. I knew these two women were horrifying on almost every level, and I knew that Carly was most definitely having a better evening than me. But the knowledge that trumped all others was that I absolutely, unequivocally, beyond a shadow of a doubt did
not
want to sit in that semen-crusted chair.

But as
Catwoman backed me up against it, the X-rated female rent-a-cop reached up from behind me, grabbed my shoulders, and forced me down. Had I been expecting her to touch me, I would've been prepared to resist. Even though she was built like an offensive lineman, I definitely would've been able to remain standing against her assault. But I hadn’t been ready, so there I sat, practically able to
feel
the blood-borne pathogens scurrying into my body.

"You like playing hard to get?" the naughty policewoman asked.

"Oh, I'm not playing, ladies. Trust me." I didn't
want
to be a dick. I knew they were only doing what they'd been paid to do. But I just couldn't help it.

"You're being a very bad boy by not doing what you're told,"
Catwoman said seductively. Well, as seductive as someone who probably smoked two packs of Newports a day could sound.

"Uh, sorry?"
I was willing to try anything by that point. Maybe contrite was the way to play it.

"Too late,"
Catwoman pouted as Kojak handcuffed me to the chair.

"You've
gotta be fucking kidding me," I murmured as I pulled on the handcuffs, hoping they were as flimsy as everything else in this place so that I could break free.

"What should we do to him, boys?"
Catwoman shouted.

My dickhead friends started yelling all kinds of shit, but I was too busy debating whether
or not to chew off my own hand to process any of it.

"I think we should start with a whipping,"
Kojak offered with a sly grin.

I think we should most definitely
not
start with that.

"Great idea,"
Catwoman agreed.

"You know, that's probably
not
a great idea," I started to explain.

"Shut up,"
Catwoman yelled as she grabbed my shirt again and pulled it firmly, causing buttons to scatter.

I sat there in utter disbelief, my shirt ruined because some beauty school dropout was on a power trip.
Fuck this.
"I hope you made at least fifty dollars in tips tonight, because that's what you owe me for my shirt." As soon as the words left my mouth, I wished I could have taken them back. It wasn't these girls' fault that my best man was a complete asshole. But my outburst only made me more uncomfortable, which was shocking because I didn't think anything said discomfort more than being shackled to a chair while being stripped in front of strangers. "You need to let me up. Please." I gritted through the "please," hoping they would have mercy on me.

"And you need to shut the fuck up, and let us do what we've been paid to do,"
Catwoman hissed.

Great, now she's really going to kick my ass.

"Get his belt,"
Catwoman ordered Kojak.

Kojak
walked in front of me. Then she suddenly pushed her tits in my face, and let her body slide down mine until she was kneeling in front of me. Her hands went to my belt, and I nearly tipped the chair over backward trying to get away from her. But they were clearly used to having men wrench back to avoid their touch, because Catwoman had braced herself behind me, preventing my chair from falling.

Kojak
loosened my belt and pulled it from my pants. She then handed it to Catwoman, who circled me like a predator stalking its prey.

"If you hit me with that belt, I'll have you arrested for assault," I warned. I didn't really mean the words, but said them anyway, praying like hell they would be enough to deter her.

She smirked at me. "Wouldn't be the first time, and it certainly won't be the last." And with that, she reared back with my belt and then let it fly forward.