Life Support (The Breathe Series Book 2) (8 page)

As the night progresses, we all drink, swap stories and people watch until it’s time for us to head out to our next destination. I direct the group of men to the waiting jet-black Hummer limo, courtesy of Caesars Palace. We pile into the back and immediately Marc takes out the decanter of nondescript whiskey and starts passing out shot glasses. With our glasses raised high, we toast to the end of Travis’s freedom and the start of a fucking good night.

We arrive at Encore at the Wynn Las Vegas and are ushered in the nightclub, XS, at the resort. A wall of textured gold greets you upon arrival and you can feel the beat of the music well before you get inside. The hostess leads us to our VIP booth overlooking the pool and the dance floor. Light gold colored leather couches surround two small tables that hold a bottle of Johnnie Walker Gold Label Reserve scotch, an ice bucket filled with ice chips and various mixers. Todd, Jeremiah and Alex fill one of the couches while Marc, Travis and I take the other across from them. The guys look around, observing the sights and sounds of the club. There’s a lot going on here—from the massive gold-plated molds of nude women that adorn the wall behind one of the club’s four bars, to the gold-plated, ten-foot rotating chandelier that hovers over the main dance floor, to the stripper pole behind our booth that is currently occupied by a stunning, and extremely flexible, redhead –there is a lot excess at XS to stimulate all of your senses. The vibe of the club screams opulence and sex and I love it.

No sooner have we given the place an once-over, when we see a parade of sparklers raised high in the air and weaving down the crowded aisle toward our table. The cocktail waitresses following each other and eventually break off to deliver bottles of adult beverages to their assigned tables. A hot blonde, wearing a tight, plunging black dress (accentuating her amazing tits) approaches our table with a huge smile. Her teeth are so white against her tanned skin, it’s almost blinding. She places a bottle of Grey Goose in the ice bucket as the sparkler attached to it slowly dies out.

“Hello, boys! My name is Whitney and I’ll be your server tonight,” she says cheerily. “I understand one of you is getting married soon. Who’s the lucky guy?” Whitney points her finger, eyeing all of us suspiciously.

Travis raises both arms over his head and smiles. “Me! I’m gettin’ married,” Travis shouts proudly. “Do I get a special prize?”

Whitney grins and bends down slowly, giving Travis (and the rest of us) an eyeful of her ample cleavage before giving Travis a peck on the corner of his mouth. “She’s a lucky girl to be marrying a handsome man like you,” she flirts.

“Me! I’m getting married too!” Alex blurts.

“Me too! I mean, I’m already married, but I think I deserve a special prize!” Jeremiah cries out.

Whitney covers her mouth, trying to stifle a laugh. “Well, my job is to make sure you have a memorable night, so you boys be sure to let me know how I can satisfy you. You all seem like a lot of fun. I’m confident we can all come out winners tonight. For now, what can I mix you to drink?”

Three hours later, we’re all lit.

Blitzed.

Schnockered.

Loaded.

Marc and Travis are talking over each other—one is rambling on about how it’s about damn time the Seattle Seahawks won the Super Bowl and the other is slurring about how the wedding is getting out of hand…something about too many people and it’s costing him a fortune. I can’t be sure, but I think Marc is the one talking about the wedding stuff. We’ve lost Alex and Todd to the dance floor and some sexy female escorts. And Jeremiah is lying on the couch. He said he was just going to rest his eyes, but I’m pretty sure he’s passed out.

“How you holding up, handsome?” a female voice calls to me. I lift my head up from the back of the couch and focus in on Whitney, our cocktail server—only now there are two Whitneys. She’s been great all night. Very attentive. Very pretty to look at.
I just wanna motorboat those luscious titties…

“Owen?” the two Whitneys ask.

“Hmm? Oh, right. Yeah, we’re all doing great, Whit. You’ve succeeded at getting us drunk. Now we’re all vulnerable and drunk and shit. You’re not going to take advantage of us are you?” I joke.

Whitney smirks and silently steps around the couches to grip the stripper pole behind us. She takes a spin around the pole and leans her back against it. While spreading her legs wide, she looks me in the eye. Slowly she bends over to run her hands up her shins, past her knees and up her thighs. She grabs the tight material of her dress and pulls it up higher, teasing me. Marc and Travis have stopped jabbering and are watching Whitney intensely as she starts to dance seductively for us.

“I’ll be honest with you, Owen,” she calls to me from the pole with a breathy voice. “I’d very much like to take advantage of you. Or more like, you can take advantage of me.” Whitney stops dancing and deliberately walks toward me. She stands between my legs and leans down to whisper loudly into my ear, “I’d do anything you want.” Her tongue traces the curve of my ear and I close my eyes at the sensation. A shiver of excitement runs through me.

I open my eyes and see Travis and Marc staring at us. Their eyes dart from Whitney to me repeatedly as if their anxiously awaiting the next move. Whitney hikes up her already short dress and straddles my lap. I can feel her heat against my crotch as she places her hands on my shoulders and begins to grind on me. As her hips undulate to the rhythm of the music, I drunkenly place my hands on her smooth thighs and slide them up to grip her waist. My eyes become hooded as I enjoy the combination of the alcohol and the stimulation.

“Invite me back to your room. Your friends can watch…or participate, whatever you want,” Whitney whispers hotly into my ear.

My eyes flash open wide with the stark realization that this has gotten completely out of hand. At the same time, there’s a blaze of light and I quickly turn my head away from the offending brightness. Travis looks at his phone and smiles. Satisfied with what he sees, he raises his arm and aims it at me. Whitney smashes her cheek against mine and turns toward Travis. There is another flash of light and now there are spots in my vision. The motherfucker is taking pictures!

“Okey dokey…that’s enough,” I say while simultaneously pushing Whitney off my lap and onto the couch. “I’m flattered that you want some O, but I’m not your guy. I have a bea-utiful woman at home and I am
not
fucking that up.”

Whitney huffs and stands up from the couch. She straightens her dress and brushes the hair from her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Your loss,” she sulks and walks away from our VIP section.

Twenty minutes later, a different cocktail server brings us our tab to close out our account. Marc and I pay, splitting the massive bill, gather our people and opt to take a cab back to our hotel rather than wait for the limo.

This is the third time someone’s phone has rang this morning. Whoever is calling is adamant about getting through to one of the guys. With this headache, I’m about to go on the hunt for the phone and throw the damn thing out the fucking window.

“Will you please answer your fucking phone!” I yell from my room. I’m sprawled out diagonally across the plush king size bed. I have one sock on and I’m still in my button down shirt from last night. My pants are missing, but my boxer briefs are on and in place.

I hear some groans and murmuring outside my room, but the pounding in my head drowns out any coherent sentences. The voice gets louder and clearer as Alex enters the open door of my room with a phone to his ear.

“Yeah he’s here,” he says groggily. “In his bed? No, there’s no one in his bed. Sure, hold on.” Alex holds out the phone to me with closed eyes. “It’s for you.”

I lift my head from the bed but it feels like it weighs one hundred pounds. Then and there I make a silent vow never to drink this much again…at least for the duration of this bachelor party weekend. I’m too old for this shit. Taking the phone from Alex’s hand, I realize it’s my own phone and put it to my ear. “This better be important. I was sleeping,” I say gruffly.

“I think this warrants a wake up call, yes.” The voice on the other end is familiar, albeit a tad put out.

“Oh, hi baby. How’s my girl?” I yawn and stretch my free arm over my head and itch my scalp.

“Have fun last night?” Olivia asks coolly.

“Yeah. Pretty epic night. Went to a club called XS…crazy people watching. Some pro football players were at a VIP booth across from us and I guess some reality star was there too, but I didn’t recognize—”

“Anything else happen last night? Nothing else you’d like to tell me?” Olivia’s voice changes and she sounds like she’s on the verge of chewing me out.

“Huh? What do you mean? Wait, why were you asking Alex if I was alone in bed?” I sit up straight on the disheveled mattress and the fog in my brain starts to dissipate. “Don’t tell me you thought I would bring someone back here last night? You know me better than that, Olivia. I thought we were past this…” I’m starting to get upset; I can hear it in my voice. Just when I thought she and I were finally moving past the trust issues, it rears its ugly head again.

“From what I’ve seen, things look suspicious.” Her voice is now cold.

“From what you’ve seen? What exactly have you seen? Where?”

“Facebook. Travis posted a couple pictures of you last night with a hot blonde chick grinding on you and then another one of her posing with you. Her boobs were all up in your face.”

“Facebook? Travis posted pictures to Facebook?” I’m seething, but trying to keep my voice calm.

“Yeah, he tagged all of you guys in the picture. There were others too—like the same blonde chick dancing on a pole. Did that happen? Did you guys go to a strip club? I’d be fine if you did, but I just want you to tell me…”

I sigh heavily. Travis is a fucking idiot. “All of it happened…only we didn’t go to a strip club. The blonde was our cocktail server. She got a little handsy and flirty, but nothing happened.”

“But she was grinding on your lap, Owen…”

“I was drunk and—”

“That’s—”

“That’s no excuse,” I say, cutting her off. “I realize that. She was on my lap for a minute and then she wasn’t. End of story.”

“Your eyes were closed when the blond was on your lap and your hands were all over her. You looked like you were enjoying it just fine,” Olivia snaps.

“It’s nothing like you think, Olivia,” I say in an attempt to calm her down.

There’s silence on the other end of the phone and it’s starting to make me nervous. “Olivia? Do you believe me? I’d be happy to put you on the phone with Marc or Travis who will tell you I pushed her off my lap and told her that I had a beautiful woman back home and wasn’t about to fuck things up.”

“You’ve embarrassed me, Owen. Those pictures are out there for all our friends…
my family
…to see. You’ve done a pretty good job of dissuading people that believed you’ve changed.” I can hear the sadness in her voice and it crushes me.

“Baby, it’s pretty simple; either you trust me, or you don’t. What happened…or better yet, what
didn’t
happen last night is proof that I am no longer the guy who I was before I met you. Olivia, do you believe me? Because that’s all I really care about. I don’t give a fuck about what our friends and family believe.” I plead.

There is a pause. A very, very long pause.

“I believe you,” Olivia murmurs quietly. “I’m just tired of feeling like I’m going to lose you to a firehouse groupie or…now a cocktail waitress in Vegas. It makes me feel inadequate and like I’m not enough for you.”

“Olivia, baby, please get those crazy thoughts out of your head. You’re more than enough for me. So much so, I feel like I don’t deserve you. I love you…only you. I’m not who I was before. I’m better…so much better and that’s all because of you.”

“I love you too.” Olivia exhales loudly, seemingly satisfied and reassured. “What are you guys doing tonight? More of the same?”

“Once I kick Travis’s ass, we’re going golfing and then out to a nice dinner tonight. Then tomorrow, I’m on my way back to you.”

“Okay. Good.”

“I’ll talk to you later today, okay baby?”

“Okay. I love you, Owen.”

“Love you too, sunshine. Bye.” I hang up the phone and stare at it in my hand, plotting my revenge on Travis.