Pour Judgment

by ORGERON, HEATHER M

  “Stays at Pour Judgment,” the rest of us chant in unison.

  “Never have I ever flashed my tits for beads on Bourbon Street,” Ryan announces, staring at Judy with a knowing smile.

  “Ew, gross. Not my sister,” Rhett moans, covering his face in mock horror when her hand is the only one to go up.

  “Don’t feel bad, Judy. It’s only because the rest of us have never been to New Orleans. I’d totally let a nip slip for some beads!” She does a little shimmy, poking her boobs out. “Do you booboo.”

  Judy gives her husband the evil eye, wracking her brain for what she can divulge to the group to embarrass him. “Never have I ever busted a nut. And let me be clear that by busted, I mean fallen on the bar to my mountain bike so hard that the ball did not survive.”

  Ryan’s face turns so red it’s damn near purple.

  At once, the guys all hiss in pain.

  “So, you only have one testicle?” Essie asks curiously, her right brow shooting up.

  “Just give me the damn shot,” he grumbles, his head hung in shame.

  Abby Jane is next, and I swear the girl is just bursting at the seams to humiliate someone. Being she only knows Brock and myself, I certainly hope she’s chosen her husband as her victim. “Never have I ever jacked off in my tutor’s shower using her Victoria’s Secret Love Spell as lube.”

  “Payback’s a motherfucker, Abby Jane,” he threatens, lifting his hand into the air for his shot.

  And so the game continues, until we’ve all far surpassed our three shots of Fireball and learned more about each other than we should. I’m fairly certain by the time we call it quits, half of the couples are no longer on speaking terms, and none of us will be able to look each other in the face in the morning

  As Rhett scoops me off the log, cradling my head to his chest, I get a fleeting feeling of deja vu. At least this time, I’m not the only one who has to be carried to bed.

  Chapter 49

  Rhett

  “Well don’t you lot look like something from an episode of The Walking Dead,” Essie teases as the guys and I make our way to the field for today’s color wars.

  It’s a scorcher. My skin burns where the sun’s beating down on the back of my neck. The smell of alcohol seeping from my pores adds to the bout of nausea I’m fighting. “Mornin’, Essie,” I say, nodding her direction. “Joe.” I angle my head his way, swallowing down the bile climbing in my throat.

  “Ah, there you are ladies,” she chimes into the megaphone. “There ya go, Kline…yup. Right there, sweetie. Just let it all out—” Her hand lifts to cover her mouth and she gags. “Ew. I smell it.” She looks over to Joe. “Babe, go hose that, will ya?”

  Korie looks positively miserable, I almost want to call the competition off, but then I remember what’s at stake, and that I’m currently losing. I reassess the situation. Pale, a little green, hair knotted in a rat’s nest atop her head. Moving like a slug. She’s definitely seen better days. On second thought…her discomfort is a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things, right? She can always nap after we whoop that ass.

  When her tired eyes finally connect with mine, I send her a kiss. “Mornin’, beautiful!”

  She snorts, plopping down in the grass and lying back on her elbows. “Prepare to get your ass handed to ya, Hollywood,” she snaps back. “Don’t let this sexiness fool you.” Her hand glides up and down her body.

  Stick’s competitive nature is one of the things I love most about her. But it’ll take some divine intervention for those girls to beat us at anything today with half their team puking their guts up on the sidelines.

  “Joe and I watered down the competition after seeing how trashed you all were last night. We’ve got a few games and relays planned, then you can all go rest up for rehearsal supper tonight, how’s that sound?”

  “Here, here!” Aiden shouts, before slamming his hand on his chest and letting out a huge belch.

  Essie shakes her head, laughing. “There will be a total of four games today. The girls are already ahead by two. If they get two wins today, they are our champions. So, guys, step it up!” She points a finger our way. “Okay, so our first competition is a little game we like to call Bump and Grind.”

  Joe puts his hands behind his head and starts gyrating in the middle of the lawn. It’s fucking hilarious.

  “Yeah, so…each of you will have a balloon tied to your front, over your crotch, and another on your butt. The girls will line up behind that pink chair. Guys, you’ll line up behind the blue one. The first person will run up to the chair, holding onto the back for balance. The second in line will then have to pop the balloon on their front and your back without using anything more than the force of their hips.”

  “What in the gay fuckery is this?” Lyle shouts.

  The counselor shakes her head and continues. “Once both balloons have burst, the first person goes to the back of the line and player two grabs the chair while the third person becomes the thruster. The game ends when the first person busts their front balloon on the caboose’s well…caboose.” She smiles at her cleverness.

  Sounds simple enough. We’ve totally got this. I mean, we have way more experience with thrusting hips than the girls do.

  After we’ve all been strapped down with balloons, the whistle blows. Once again, Korie and I are first. And just my luck, Lyle’s homophobic ass is my thruster.

  The whole time he’s ramming into me, he’s cursing up a storm.

  “Come on, Lyle,” I shout when the girl’s line keeps moving and he’s still fucking around behind me. “Harder,” I moan, to mess with his head.

  All of a sudden, he shoves into me, and I’m sent flying over the fucking chair, landing hard on my ass. But wouldn’t you know, the damn balloon is still intact. Before I’ve even gotten myself back into position, the whistle is blown, and there’s another tally in the girls’ column.

  “And here I was thinking of making you godfather,” I mutter, shoving hard past him to rejoin the group.

  The guys and I finally get on a winning streak and take the next three events easily: three-legged race, wheelbarrow race, and a sack race.

  “All right,” Joe announces. “Looks like we’ll have to go to the tiebreaker. The winner of this game takes all! We like to call this one Impale the Paper, and it’s as naughty as it sounds.” His old man laugh has us all cracking up. “The game is played with a plunger and a roll of toilet paper. The first person in line will go out to stand behind the tape with a roll of toilet paper gripped between his or her thighs. The second will then waddle over with a plunger tucked between their legs, the rubber to the back, pole sticking out the front like so.” He motions to Essie who’s giving a demonstration. “Your job is to get the stick through the hole. Once you’ve successfully transferred the roll from between your partners legs to your plunger, you swap positions. The plunger becomes the toilet paper holder and the person who was holding the paper runs the plunger to the next in line. The game ends when the original paper holder has had a chance to plunge successfully.”

  “I’m going last this time,” Lyle growls.

  For a bunch of dudes who actually have experience working with sticks between our legs, you’d think we’d be a little more coordinated. Three girls have already impaled their paper before Nicholas finally steals the roll. We swap places and I pass the plunger to my father, who surprisingly gets it in his first try. Next up is Lone Star…uh, I mean Ryan. I don’t know how this fucker ever managed to get my sister pregnant. The plunger keeps slipping out from between his legs, and the whistle is blown, signaling the girls’ win, before he ever gets it anywhere close to the hole.

  “Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” Stick asks, sauntering over with a triumphant sparkle in her eye.

  “No.” I pout, hanging my lip. “I hope your birth control fails and we get pregnant with twins.”

  She shakes her head, trying not to laugh. “I have something special for you tonight,” she teases, ru
nning her tongue over the seam of my mouth, getting Ollie real excited.

  “Do you now?” Suddenly, I’ve perked up.

  “Not that,” she says, slapping her palm to my chest. “We agreed not till the wedding night.”

  “Well, I think that was a really stupid decision, and I wanna take it back.”

  She rests her hands on her hips. “It’s one more day. You can do it. Plus, I really need to rest up for tonight. I feel disgusting.”

  I reach into my pocket retrieving the Zofran I brought from home, just in case.

  “What’s this?” she asks when I hand her the bottle.

  “Zofran…it’s for nausea.”

  Her eyes turn lethal. “Why the hell didn’t you give this to me when you saw how miserable I was this morning? Poor Kline was puking her guts out.”

  I shrug and wink, taking a few steps back before answering, “I wanted to win.”

  Chapter 50

  Korie

  Feeling infinitely better than I did when I awoke this morning, I unzip the garment bag containing the outfit Anika chose for me for tonight. Yes, I let her dress me. If it were up to me, I’d be in jeans and a tee, but I’m smart enough to realize that I’ll someday regret that choice, and also, while we’ve managed to keep the ceremony completely on the downlow, pictures of our union will have to be made public, due to the nature of Rhett’s career, and I’m making it my duty not to embarrass my new husband, at least not on the first day.

  Plus, if I’m being honest, Anika has impeccable taste. “This is really cute,” I say, taking the white chiffon romper off the hanger. It’s spaghetti-strapped, with a faux wrap neckline, lightly lined with a ruffle. The waist is cinched with a side tie ribbon. Simple. Elegant. Perfect.

  I slip into the outfit then let Raven and Anika work their magic on my hair and makeup. But when that prissy brunette comes out with a pair of four-inch strappy silver heels, I sort of want to punch her in the tit.

  “Seriously, Annie?”

  “No one with any class attends their own rehearsal dinner in anything but a sexy pair of heels,” she returns, crouching to strap them around my ankles with a triumphant smirk on her too pretty face.

  I hardly recognize the cafeteria when I walk through the double doors. It’s been transformed into something I can only describe as magical. Right near the entrance is a white painted wood sign with “How sweet it is to be loved by you,” in black script. Behind it is a table filled with tiered glass trays of donuts, cookies, and cakes.

  The ceiling’s been draped with white fabric and twinkle lights. The picnic-style tables were replaced with one long wood table big enough to seat our entire party and more. It’s lined with a white cloth and topped with greenery, blush and white roses, and tealight candles.

  “Damn,” Rhett hisses, suddenly appearing in front of me, and I certainly concur. He looks fucking edible in a pair of khaki slacks with a white button down and slightly darker tan blazer. His suspenders, belt, and shoes are all a deep chocolate brown, and a baby blue bow tie adds the perfect pop of color.

  “I’ve changed my mind,” I rasp, undressing him with my eyes. “Meet me at the toolshed at midnight.”

  His hearty laughter makes my heart soar. “Yeah…I think I’ll make you wait.” He bites his lower lip, and my thighs clench with need.

  With a shake of my head, I link my arm through his. “Such a tease,” I mutter as he leads me to my seat.

  All of our guests are already settled around the table and looking so fancy in their formal attire.

  “I’d like to start the evening with a toast,” Nicholas says, rising to his feet and tapping a butter knife to the side of his glass. “I wanted the chance to say a few words tonight, before these two run off on their honeymoon tomorrow.”

  We all turn to give him our attention, and I feel Rhett’s hand squeeze my knee.

  “As most of you know, Rhett has been my best friend for damn near all my life. I think it’s safe to say that just about no one knows him better than I do. There were a few years there where we got caught up in the rock and roll lifestyle. We were wild and reckless, and lost sight of who we really are at our core. That’s the reason when Rhett set his sights on my baby cousin, Korie…well, to say I had my reservations would be putting it mildly.” A soft chuckle erupts from our guests. “I was wrong,” he says, his eyes connecting with Rhett’s. “You are more than good enough. You are everything I hope to someday be, and tomorrow, when I give you my cousin’s hand in marriage, it will be without reservation. You two are what dreams are made of, and I’m honored to be able to witness your fairy tale brought to life.” He lifts his glass into the air. “To Rhett and Korie.”

  Eighteen champagne flutes take turns clinking with a resounding, “Cheers.”

  The night’s only just begun, and I’m already dabbing at tears, trying to save this cursed mascara.

  Nicholas waves toward the kitchen as he lowers back down to his seat and a line of servers file out with trays of food. I lift the domed lid from my plate, finding a lobster pasta with French bread and butter and a side salad. My stomach growls when I get a whiff of delicious aromas.

  Once everyone has received their dinner, Judy offers to bless our meal.

  “Heavenly father, we ask you to bless this food which we are about to receive and to bless Rhett and Korie as they take this huge leap of faith into married life. We thank you for bringing our families together and for blessing us with such wonderful friends to share in our joy of this glorious union. In your name we pray.”

  “Amen.”

  “Make sure you leave room for dessert,” Rhett warns when he sees me shoveling pasta into my mouth.

  I chew and swallow, then dab at my lips with a napkin. “I saw the cakes at the entrance. So cute.”

  “I have another little surprise coming,” he says with a wink.

  When we finish our meal, Nick calls the servers back to retrieve our dishes with another wave. Are they seriously just standing back there watching for his signal?

  “Be right back,” Rhett says, as he and the rest of his bandmates get up from the table. He bends to place a kiss to my forehead.

  “Wai—where are you going?”

  “You’ll see,” he says, rushing off.

  “What’s going on?” AJ asks from across the table.

  I shrug. “Not a clue.”

  A side door off the kitchen swings open, and a huge wood sign on wheels is rolled out. In black cursive letters it says, “I’ll stop the world and melt with you.” Beneath that are painted waffle cones with rose colored ice cream to match the decor. Then an ice cream cart follows, with a variety of flavors and glass bowls filled with every topping you could imagine.

  I still have no idea why the guys have run off, until I hear the sound of his guitar. Rhett, Nicholas, Aiden, and Lyle come out looking every bit the boy band, with their suits and carefully styled hair.

  “I was going to come up with a toast of my own,” Rhett says. “Then I thought…well, all we really need is love, right? And maybe a little ice cream?”

  Nick bangs his drum sticks together three times, even though the drums are nowhere in sight. They perform a mash up of songs starting with a twangy, more country rendition of “I Melt With You,” by Modern English. After the chorus they seamlessly blend it in with their own take on “All You Need Is Love,” by the Beatles. And finally, they conclude with “My Best Friend,” by Tim McGraw.

  I’m nothing but a blubbering mess of emotion when he passes the mic to Lyle and saunters across the room, scooping me up into his arms. “I can’t wait to be your husband, Korie Potter.”

  As if the ice cream bar and live performance aren’t enough, he pulls a velvet box from his back pocket and lifts the top. Inside is a platinum necklace with an ice cream pendant, engraved with the words “I melt with you.”

  With trembling hands, I remove it, examining the delicate piece from every angle before handing it to him and turning so he can fasten it around my neck.
“Thank you,” I say, pressing my tear-soaked lips to his. “I umm…I had a surprise for you too, but now I’m a little embarrassed.”

  While we’re still standing, wrapped in each other’s arms in the center of the room, the lights dim and music filters from the overhead speakers. Slowly, we begin to sway along to the beat, my body a livewire, tingling every place we touch.

  “Don’t be embarrassed.” He grips my chin, turning my face up to his. “Show me.”

  Thankfully, everyone else has taken to the dance floor—their attention no longer fixed on us.

  “I changed my mind,” I say, unclasping the fastener on the top of my clutch.

  “About?”

  I retrieve the disk of birth control pills and place it in his hand.

  “It’s empty,” he says, examining the open slots. “Does this mean?”

  “Flushed them down the toilet this morning. I want to have your baby almost as much as I want to be your wife, Rhett Taylor.”

  Chapter 51

  Rhett

  It’s a great day to be married, I think to myself as I make my way to the pavilion. The sun is high, shining bright, and there’s not a cloud in the sky. A cool breeze blows through the glass chimes, and the sound reminds me of wedding bells.

  “Lookin’ good, man,” Nicholas says, dressed in the same camel-colored linen suit as mine. “You ready for this?”

  I adjust the dusty rose bow tie at my neck. “Yeah,” I answer with complete confidence. “I am.”

  I look out at the glowing faces of our closest friends and family, so happy with our decision to keep the ceremony small and intimate. So much of our life is shared with the world. I wanted this to be something sacred. A moment we could claim as our own.

  The wedding planner did an excellent job decorating the place. The wood pillars are draped with thick white fabric, tied back with dusty pink ribbon. A huge chandelier was brought in for the occasion, hung from a wood beam above the center of the cake table. The cake Korie chose is simple, yet elegant. Two tiers of almond-flavored cake coated in antique white buttercream icing. The edges are piped with gold foil and a small cluster of roses sits on top and another a little bigger on the bottom tier. The flowers are varying shades of dusty pinks and creams to match her bouquet and the centerpieces on the white linen-covered tables.