by Tessa Bailey
Once we park the car and make it to the entrance, I see her four best friends waiting impatiently. They’re all beautiful and wearing matching bridesmaids’ shirts. Avery hands me one that says maid of honor, and it has the same sparkly rhinestones on it as their bridesmaids’ ones. I slip it over my crop top and give her a hug and a thank you. They’re all Summer’s age and treat me like their kid sister, but I don’t mind. It’s actually fun being around them, and I love how they bring out the wild side in Summer. She deserves this weekend more than anyone else I know.
Once we’ve checked our bags and made it through security, Avery and Chelsea drag us to a little cantina by our gate for pre-flight drinks. I try to pace myself, but it’s useless when they keep ordering rounds of shots. By the time we’re called for boarding, we’re all two sheets to the wind and giggling about God knows what. Summer’s grinning wide as we patiently wait for the attendant to scan our tickets, and I haven’t seen her this happy in a long while.
After she got engaged, she became more serious, saying she needed to start acting like an adult. Essentially, she took etiquette lessons from my mother on how to be a good wife. It kinda makes me sad how manipulative they’ve been.
“Are you ready, sis?” Summer asks after we find our seats and buckle. Looking out the window, I feel my excitement nearly bubble over.
I turn and look at her with a huge smile on my face. “Ready to make memories of a lifetime!”
She squeals and so does the rest of the bridal party. Right then, I vow not to think about my parents, Benjamin, or anything back in Phoenix. This weekend is about experiencing Vegas and living life to the fullest.
Chapter Three
Riley
Time zones confuse the shit out of me, especially when my internal clock is on ranch hand time—up at the ass crack of dawn and in bed before midnight. I left at four, was on a three-hour flight, and landed at five.
After we grab our shit, Diesel and I make our way to the hotel. Instead of renting a car, we use a shuttle to drop us off at Fremont Street. I’m in awe as I look around at the buildings, bright lights, and all the tourists strolling the sidewalks. I can’t fucking wait to go out tonight.
“Aw shit!” Diesel says, beaming. “We’re gonna tear this place up. Ooh wee!” he yells, bringing attention to the two of us, not that we needed any. Considering we’re both wearing cowboy boots and hats in the middle of the busiest street in Vegas, we’re doing just fine without all that.
“Oh my God! A cowboy!” a drunk woman says, stumbling toward Diesel with her tits on display. “Can I take a picture with you?”
“Sure, sweetheart!” Diesel obliges, smiling big.
“Wait, is the accent real?” She looks at him suspiciously, and he eats up the attention.
“As real as your pretty face.” He’s laying it on good, making sure to thicken up his drawl.
“You’re fuckin’ ridiculous. Can we go now?” I ask, holding my carry-on suitcase like someone’s gonna steal it.
“You’re a cowboy, too?” Her eyes go as big as saucers as her friends giggle.
“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but we gotta go.” I finally grab Diesel’s arm and pull him away.
“You’re such a party foul!” He whines all the way to the front counter of the hotel.
“The party can’t start until we drop our shit off in the room. So quit your complainin’,” I tell him before we check in and take the elevator to the top floor. When we enter the room, he opens the curtains, then walks out on the balcony to take in the view.
“Vegas! I’m gonna make you my bitch tonight!” he screams out into the vastness, and I chuckle at his obnoxiousness.
“I’m gonna shower. Try not to get into too much trouble in the next ten minutes, alright?” I open the minibar, find a little bottle of whiskey, and chug it in one big gulp. It burns going down, but I already know I’m gonna need a lot more than that.
“Big D!” I yell as I walk toward him. “You should go to the liquor store and get us some whiskey to pregame. I’ll buy.”
“In that case, I’m gettin’ a bottle the size of Texas,” he says as I hand him some cash.
“We’re gonna need it,” I tell him, walking to the bathroom.
“I’m on it.” Diesel’s out the door without another glance, and I step into the shower.
Chuckling to myself, I think about Diesel being on the Strip by himself and hope he returns in one piece because he’s been raring to go since before the sun rose. Hell, I’m just hoping he makes it back. After I’m dressed, I wait thirty minutes before I call him, frustrated it’s taking him so damn long. After he doesn’t pick up or return my text messages, I decide to try to find him, and Google the closest liquor store. It’s only a few blocks away, so there’s no reason it should take this long.
As I’m walking down Fremont Street, I’m stopped by entertainers handing out fliers. I grab them and continue. Before I have a chance to enter the store, Diesel comes barreling out with two gigantic paper bags and lipstick smeared on his cheek.
“Seriously?” I ask with a smirk, shaking my head. “What’d you do? Bang her in the bathroom?”
Shrugging with a shit-eating grin, he hands me one of the bags.
“I don’t kiss and tell.”
Grimacing, I shiver at the thought. The bathroom is probably gross as hell. However, I wouldn’t put it past him. Diesel glances down and snatches one of the neon fliers from my hand.
“Interesting.” He studies it. “Amateur night at a strip club.”
I give him a pointed look, and before he can even say a word, I dare him to enter the contest.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “There’s no way in hell.”
“Really? You gonna turn down a dare and finally pay up?” I taunt and burst into laughter when he scowls.
“I’m not dancin’ half naked in front of a bunch of strangers,” he whines. Ironic, considering he banged someone he just met in a restroom.
I shrug. “Alright…” I hold out my palm with a shit-eating smirk. “That’ll be eight hundred bucks then.”
“Piss off.” He rolls his eyes, walking ahead of me.
“Should we resort to the old rules then? Drop your pants and get moonin’.”
“I’ll get arrested,” he throws back. “That’s just stupid.”
“One or the other.” I smirk, knowing I have him by the balls.
Diesel swallows, then narrows his eyes at me. “Fine. Let’s go to this goddamn club, but just know, I’ll get you back when you least expect it. And it will be monu-fuckin’-mental, Bishop. Just wait.”
“Ooooh, fightin’ words. I like it when you’re all riled up. And you know I’m always up for a good challenge,” I admit. Actually, everyone back home knows never to dare a Bishop. The tradition goes back decades.
Once we’re back in our room, we crack open the whiskey and start drinking. I stand on the balcony and continue to pregame as Diesel showers. Eventually, he comes out dressed in his best, and we’re already buzzed when we take an Uber to the strip club. Amateur night is for both men and women, but not surprisingly, the woman’s prize is heftier. But if Diesel pulls it off, he could be five hundred dollars richer tonight, which could buy a lot of beer and lap dances—his words, not mine.
The parking lot is full of cars, and the line is fifty people deep. Our driver drops us off, and I’m grinning like an idiot. It hasn’t left my face since he accepted the dare. I fucking live for making his life hell.
“I fuckin’ hate you.” Diesel groans, leading the way. Eventually, we make it through and meet a big dude guarding the door with a smug look, checking IDs. Diesel gets in free because he’s participating in the activities, but I have to pay thirty bucks. Worth every damn cent to watch him embarrass himself.
“See, that’s one perk,” I tell him with a nudge in the ribs as I pull the money out of my wallet.
He narrows his eyes. “I need tequila for this.”
I grin. “The first few are on me.
You deserve it for being such a champ. Plus, you’re gonna need it to shake your ass up there.”
“I’m convinced you just wanna see my huge dick.” He lets out a booming laugh as we walk through the club.
“Nah, I just wanna see what humiliation looks like,” I counter. A long bar splits the room into two separate spaces, and the male and female performers are in different areas. I’ve never seen a strip club this large and have only ever been to one little hole-in-the-wall in San Antonio with a few friends. Vegas is magical.
We push our way to the bar, and two shots quickly turn into four. At some point, I lose count, but Diesel keeps them coming. When I look around at the crowded room, I notice a group of gorgeous women in the corner, obviously here for a bachelorette party. They all have sashes across their bodies, and one’s wearing a bride-to-be crown. Sitting as close to the strippers as possible, they look up at the half naked man with googly eyes, giggling their asses off and throwing money like confetti. I can’t help but notice one of the girls with blond hair and sun-kissed skin wearing the sweetest fucking smile I’ve ever seen. Damn, she’s so beautiful, it nearly takes my breath away.
“Fuck,” Diesel says, pulling my attention away. He stands and wobbles, and I realize we drank too much. We’re doomed. Especially Diesel, considering he still has to put on the performance of his life. After two more shots, all the contestants are called to the far stage. Glancing at him, I nod toward his competition, who are all standing by.
“Imma get you back, Bishop,” he tells me between gritted teeth, and I don’t doubt him one bit. Diesel begrudgingly orders a beer to take with him and stumbles to the large group of participants eagerly waiting for instruction. He hates losing so much that, combined with all the liquid courage, I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually tries to win.
I sit on the barstool, not able to stop grinning as Diesel makes his way behind the curtain. Trying to be somewhat responsible, I order a beer and pace myself while I wait for the show to begin. If he’s stumbling around like a baby giraffe in heels—considering his tolerance is higher than mine—I’ll probably fall flat on my ass if I don’t sit for a while.
The lights flash and brighten, grabbing every person’s attention in the room, and the wannabe strippers make their way to the front. Most of them look like total douchebags, and then there’s Diesel looking like he fell off a horse with his cowboy hat and boots. The emcee, Nicole, introduces herself before explaining how this will work. Once she’s done, Nicole sends out the first guy, and I watch, feeling secondhand embarrassment for the poor dude.
“And next up, we have Diesel! He said they call him that because he’s big in all the right places. So hold on to your horses, this cowboy is ready to rock your world,” Nicole says in a flirtatious tone.
Diesel walks onto a low-lit stage to Ginuwine’s “Pony.” It’s one of the oldest, most cliché songs in the goddamn world, but I’m laughing so hard I nearly choke on my drink. He moves around like he’s been stripping for a decade, and I’m convinced the bastard needs to join Magic Mike. All the women in the club are gathered around, ready to eat him up, and he’s teasing them like he’s the whole buffet. I swear I see their tongues hanging out.
Diesel takes it to the next level and calls up one of the pretty ladies from the bachelorette party to dance with him. Placing his cowboy hat on her head, Diesel slowly removes his clothes, piece by piece. She’s absolutely mesmerized, tracing her fingers across his abs. My mouth falls open, and my eyes widen in shock when he slips down his pants and reveals a man thong.
“Jesus Christ. He’s never living this shit down,” I whisper as he sings the lyrics to the thirsty group who are ready to fuck him in front of everyone. As the song ends, fifty or more women scream out for more of Diesel.
“Well, it looks like someone’s a professional,” Nicole taunts as Diesel picks up his clothes and steps off the stage.
One by one, the other guys come out and do their thing. They don’t compare or have the charisma Diesel exuded. After each performance, those watching aren’t wooed and surprisingly continue to chant his name for an encore. When the last guy finishes, Nicole calls everyone back and has them line up on the stage.
“I don’t think it’s a surprise who’s going to win this contest tonight,” Nicole says as the audience continues to scream Diesel’s name. Ridiculous as it seems, it’s like he somehow put a spell on every person in the room.
“Diesel! Come get your money, honey!” Nicole finally says. “And if you want a job, you’re hired,” she tells him. Diesel takes his prize and grabs the mic to give his version of a corny acceptance speech.
“I just want to thank my best friend, Riley, who’s sitting over there.” The bastard points in my direction, and all heads turn and look at me. Asshole. “He’s always wanted to see my package, so tonight, big boy, this one was for you,” he tells me, then cups himself. I flip him off, and he laughs.
“Don’t worry, y’all. I’m only into the ladies, so call me.” He smirks and walks off the stage, then heads toward me. I turn around and order us both a beer because I’m gonna need it to get through the rest of the night with him.
“I can’t believe you actually won,” I say as he plops down on the stool next to me.
“Maybe I’ll quit the ranch and move to Vegas,” he teases, happily taking the beer to chug it.
“Yeah, and your mama would kill you,” I remind him.
Looking over my shoulder, I catch sight of the beautiful blonde I saw earlier. This time, though, she’s looking right at me, smiling and biting her bottom lip.
I fully turn around and mouth, “Hi.”
She gives me a sexy wave with an eyebrow popped, and she’s looking at me like I’m the sweetest piece of candy she’s ever seen. I swallow down the lump in my throat, wanting to go to her but feel as if I’m standing in concrete. Girls like her don’t exist back home.
Diesel’s running his mouth about something, and I turn to tell him to give me a second because I need to find out every detail about her.
“I’ll be right back,” I interrupt, and he rolls his eyes. When I glance back, she’s gone, and I’m left wondering if I’ll see her again.
* * *
The next morning, I wake up with a slight hangover, but nothing a couple of ibuprofen won’t fix. We’re both starving, so we get dressed and go find breakfast. No matter how much I try to shake the thoughts of last night, I can’t seem to get that gorgeous woman out of my mind. It feels as if she were a dream, some figment of my imagination. An electric current was pulling me toward her, and I’ve never felt anything like that before.
We eventually find a buffet, and Diesel fills two plates full of eggs, sausages, mini pancakes, and a tower of bacon. He’s stacked like an NFL football player and eats like one too. As he’s shoveling food into his mouth, chewing like a goddamn animal, his eyes go wide. He chews faster, nearly swallowing a sausage patty whole.
“Babes,” he chokes out, looking past me with dreamy eyes.
“Babies?” I laugh, confused, but then see the group of women walk past our table.
One of them stops and takes a few steps back, staring at Diesel, who’s grinning like a doofus. “Can I help you, ma’am?”
“Are you the guy from last night at the club?” She’s intrigued. “Diesel, right? Oh wait, that’s probably just your stage name, isn’t it?”
He chuckles, and I find myself laughing too because most people only know him by that name. “It’s whatever you want it to be, sweetheart.”
She turns and looks at me for confirmation, and I nod. “Everyone calls him that back home.”
“So, you’re real cowboys, huh? It wasn’t an act?” She glances back and forth between us, looking at our getup. Boots and ten-gallon hats are what we’re most comfortable in.
“I’m a ranch hand in Texas,” he admits. “But I’ll be a cowboy if you want me to be,” he adds with a wink.
I snort and shake my head.
“Hmm…I
like you, Diesel,” she says, pointing her finger at him.
“And what’s your name?”
She lifts an eyebrow at him. “Summer.”
“Wow, what a coincidence. That’s my favorite season,” he says in a heavy accent. All I can do is shake my head.
The conversation continues as Diesel lays it on thick, and from behind, I hear a sweet voice calling out. “Summer!”
Turning, I see the beautiful blonde from last night dressed in blue jean shorts and a shirt that shows her midriff. My mouth falls agape, and Summer notices.
“Zoey, come meet my new friends,” she says with a grin.
I stand, fumbling over my words. “It’s you,” I say. “From last night.”
Zoey smiles and tilts her head at me, then glances at Diesel. “Ahh, yes. You’re Riley, right? The best friend who wanted to see his dick?” She snorts, and Diesel lets out a roar of laughter. I’m gonna kill him.
“I’ve seen his dick enough to last me a lifetime. He’s my best friend, and roommate, and not a tad modest,” I admit. “It’s his prized jewel.”
Diesel shrugs, and Zoey snickers. Before we can continue our conversation, the other girls call Summer and Zoey over to where they’re sitting across the room.
“I guess we’ll see you two later then,” Summer says before turning to meet her friends. Zoey follows her, and they go to the buffet together. I can’t stop staring at her.
“You in love or somethin’?” Diesel finally asks, looking at me like I’ve grown a second head.
“Shut the hell up.” I scowl.
He stands and grabs the plate that actually has food left on it.
“Where ya goin’?” I ask, and all he does is look over his shoulder with a mischievous grin. I watch as he sits down at the table with the girls, loving all the attention he instantly receives. He waves me over, leaving an empty seat next to Zoey, making this way too easy.