by Xavier Neal
Swallowing harshly, I nod. “Yes ma'am.”
French points. “Now get the hell out of my office.”
Without another word, I make my way to the exit.
Just when I thought today wouldn't get any shittier than having the hair on my balls ripped off, this happens. My parents could just give him the money. Hell, I could give him the money. And I would if I thought that would stop him from botherin' with tryin' to figure out where and what I'm doin'. But I know it won't. It'll just spur him to dig further until he discovers what it is I've been holdin' back every Christmas. I don't think it would honestly change my father's choice in tryin' to hand me the company, but that's not what matters to me right now. Gettin' my brother out of hot water and savin' his hide is all I give a damn about. Hope he'll let me fuckin help.
Rory
Hunter drapes his arm around the back of my chair, his fingertip stroking my shoulder. Naturally, I lean into his touch.
God, I love his touch. I mean...thoroughly enjoy. You know that kind of love. Not in love love. Not marriage and put a baby in me love. Oh! Shit! I forgot to take my pill again this morning. Remind me when I get home before I start working again please. Yeah, I would just get the stupid shot thing if I didn't dread needles going into my body.
“Thanks again for coming with me.” I turn away from watching the dancing crowd of guests. “I really appreciate it.”
“Of course, Sugar.” His sweet smile floods my system with that unknown feeling once more. “Jus' sorry we can't stay long.”
Still longer than Megan and Dean who bailed already. Then again I think they managed to make it for the whole church part. We on the other hand did not.
“Can you ever request a full night off?”
He slowly shakes his head. “Not really.”
“What about if there's an emergency?”
“An exception is typically made, but I've only seen that happen once.”
I pause as a fact starts to sink in. “You know, I don't actually know where you work. Just what you do.”
He cocks a grin. “It's supposed to be that way. It's a members only kinda place.”
“How can I become a member if I don't know where to go?”
Hunter gives me a nod.
Ah. That's a point. It's the kind of invite only place. Tight circles and tighter lips. Hm. Not really my style anyway.
“Well, I would love to see you in action again.”
The look in his eyes grows darker. Hotter. He leans in closer. “Is that righ'?”
“Yeah.” I glide my hand across his thigh. “Seeing you perform damn near naked in a room full of hot and bothered women...”
“You don't think you'd get jealous?”
Slowly I shake my head and coo, “The exact opposite. Seeing you strip and turn them on and then knowing I'm the only one who gets to go for a real ride? That's got me wet just thinking about it.”
The greedy growl I've come to love so much escapes.
What is wrong with me lately? I can't believe I said that again. I don't mean love love, I mean the same way I love having eggs after an orgasm. Or the same way I love being sent flowers, which he sends by the way. That kinda thing. No really! Trust me. I don't lie, remember?
“I'll see what I can do, Sugar.” He gives me a soft, strong kiss. “Speaking of getting you wet, you wanna come by when I get off?”
“Can't,” I sigh in a defeated tone. “We've got a funeral tomorrow morning and another one to prep for on Monday.”
“Without soundin' disrespectful, but what's with the increase in business lately?”
Giggling, I give his leg a squeeze. “You're fine, Cowboy. It's almost winter. We typically see an increase at this time of year. Colds and flu really can be deadly especially for the elderly. Then if the roads freeze and people aren't careful well...then there's that.”
“I understand. I was jus' worried that maybe....maybe....”
I give his cheek a sweet touch. “No. I'm not trying to avoid you. Like I've said before, you'll know if I wanna end things because I won't beat around the bush about it. Life's too short for that.”
“Is it so wrong to hope that day never comes?”
The question shifts me uncomfortably in my seat.
Thought weddings were supposed to make chicks mushy not dudes?
“Rory!” Mal's shriek thankfully invades the conversation. As soon as I turn, she throws her arms around my body and squeezes. “So happy you came!”
I hug back. “Told you I'd be here.”
She pulls away and gives me a pointed look. “But it's you, so I knew there was still a high probability you'd flake. Hell you almost didn’t make my bachelorette party, remember?”
The little slip of information causes Hunter's arm to remove itself from my chair.
It's been my style for years. Shouldn't come as that much of a shock.
“Congratulations!” I cheerfully say, redirecting the conversation. “Sorry I missed the ceremony. Was it magical? Did you cry?”
“And ruin this mascara?” She points to her eyes. “Not a chance.” Before I've given the chance to make proper introductions, she glances around and quietly snaps, “What the hell are you doing here?”
So....it's now safe to say she does remember him.
“Mal, I'd like you to meet Hunter.”
“Why would you bring the fucking stripper to my wedding?”
“I-”
“Are you fucking crazy? Was your boyfriend too fucking busy so you had to hire one so you didn't show up alone?”
I nervously bite my bottom lip.
“No,” she scoffs. “No. No. No. He can't be your boyfriend. No fucking way.”
Hunter waves in an attempt to be friendly. “Congratulations...”
“Shut up,” Mal barks at him and glares back at me. “Seriously Rory? A million guys in this city and you pick the one that-”
“Rory!” Another voice cuts in, shutting Mal's lips tightly.
I'd say I was relieved if it wasn't her bitchy mother-in-law. Woman makes the dead glad to be at least six feet from her.
“Such a pleasure to see you,” she coos and gives me a light hug. “Missed you at the ceremony.”
I offer her a forced smile. “Had to work. The dead wait for no one.”
“That's right...” she hums with a hint of disgust in her voice. “That's what you do...”
No the chill in the air isn't from the approaching winter air reminding you it's on its way. It's just what she naturally radiates.
“And you brought a date?”
“I did.”
Mal's eyes twitch to a warning glare.
Where is the faith in this friendship? It's not like I'm going to tell the woman of the man she cheated on it was with my boyfriend and me. Not really my place and not one to stir up unnecessary drama. There's no joy in that.
I motion towards him. “Hunter meet Mrs. Daye. Mrs. Daye meet-”
“You?” She growls before I can finish.
Okay, wasn't expecting that response.
“What do you mean you?” Mal's snips at her. “You know him too?”
“What do you mean too?”
My lips purse.
What the hell is going on?
Mrs. Daye folds her arms across her chest. “How do you know him?”
“How do you know him?”
Not wanting this conversation to be drawn out further, I whisper, “You probably both know him from the same place.”
The sharp gasp that escapes both of them is proceeded by his hand landing on my back.
“Why are you here?” Mrs. Daye growls. “Needed to embarrass me a second time?”
“When was the first?” Mal viciously snickers.
“None of your goddamn business.”
“Not a nice way to speak to the bride,” I whisper.
“You.” The woman points to me. “You brought this here....Make it go away.”
“He's a he, not an it.”
; “To hell he is. He's the scum beneath the filth not worth the dirty bills that fill his too tight g-string.”
Offense causes me to drop my jaw. “Excuse me?”
“Get that trash out of this wedding.”
Mal bites, “Don't speak to my friend that way.”
“Don't speak to me that way.”
“Don't behave in such a way I have to speak to you that way.”
“Don't make me have my son review the pre-nup one more time.”
“Enough,” Hunter's voice booms, successfully breaking up their childish fight. “We're at a goddamn wedding. How about we act like it?”
“There are my two favorite ladies,” Darrin's deep voice invades the conversation.
The two of them paint identical phony smiles on their face. Mal sweetly loops her arm around his. “Hey baby. We were just saying goodbye to Rory.”
Bye? Am I....Am I being kicked out of a wedding? That's definitely new. Can't say I put this on the win side of things.
“We sure were. Rory and her date,” Mrs. Daye reiterates as if I would just ditch him here for further ridicule.
“Already?” Darrin frowns.
“Yes,” I slowly answer doing my best not to be offended but understanding. “We both have to work tonight.”
“Damn,” he sighs. “Well before you get going, let me at least introduce myself-”
“Not necessary,” Mrs. Daye whispers.
“Of course it is mother,” he quickly corrects her. “One it would be rude to not be polite to a guest and second, if Rory of all people brought him, he's definitely worth at least shaking the hand of.” Darrin extends his hand. “I'm Darrin Daye.”
“Hunter.” He shakes in return.
“If I wasn't shaking your hand myself, I wouldn't believe Rory actually had a date.”
He drops his hands back into his lap. “And why's that?”
“You've met her,” he chortles. “She'd float away if gravity wasn't so stubborn.”
The playful description of me hurts more than I want to let on.
I'm better than that now...We're still dating aren't we?
“I think Rory will be fine,” Mal snidely adds. “From what I know about Hunter he's not much different in that aspect. Probably just a night of fun that's rolled over much too long. I'm sure she'll come to her senses soon and he'll disappear as quickly as he arrived.”
Hunter clears his throat instead of disputing the accusation. “Well, we really should get going. Congratulations again.”
“Thank you,” the newlyweds say in unison.
“This way, Darrin,” his mother hums. “The Berkley's have been asking about you.”
While they head off one direction, we make our way towards the exit in silence.
Once we're both buckled in the car, I can't help myself from asking, “Did you sleep with Mrs. Daye too?”
“Hell no,” he grunts and begins to back out of the parking space.
“Then why the hell was I just kicked out of my best friend's wedding?”
He gives me a small shrug. “Cause apparently bein' a stripper means you're no longer a goddamn person but an object to be moved out of the fuckin' way when you're no longer necessary. Or 'cause apparently I'm the one night stand that's gone on one night too many. Or maybe 'cause apparently bringin' a stripper to a weddin' is an unacceptable thing to do. What the hell Rory? You didn't think you should've given her a head's up?”
“I didn't want to add more stress to the day.”
“You didn't wanna add more stress or you didn't think we'd fuckin' make it here together?”
His harsh tone and choice of words directs my attention out the window.
I don't like to argue. I don't like confrontation. And I damn sure don't like the implication that what Darrin said might still have merit, just like what Hunter just mentioned might as well. You know I didn't really wanna come to this stupid thing to begin with! Weddings make people crazy just like funerals do. At least in death people discover a brief sense of self and the importance of treating loved ones kinder. Weddings seem to bring out the worst in people from what I've seen today. Screw ever going to another one and fuck ever having one of my own, not that that was an actual possibility. Another uncomfortable subject obviously rolling around in my boyfriend's head. If he still is my boyfriend. Who knows where all this is gonna end up after the outburst he just had...I don't wanna lose him yet but can't blame him if he chooses to walk away from us. Hell, should I start considering that maybe the end of the honeymoon stage is over and I need to begin to cut those strings we somehow managed to tie? One thing is for sure, the ones I have to Mal definitely need to be reexamined. What kinda person treats someone else the way she just treated us? Not sure it's the kind of person I want in my life...
Hunter
“What the fuck, Chance? These aren't fucking nachos.” Brock drops his plate. “These aren't even fucking chips.”
“They're Wheat Thins,” Chance innocently says, leaning back in his chair.
“Nachos are not made with fucking Wheat Thins,” Zane, argues.
Him and Brock are like fucked up barabic twins except Zane is black and Brock is white. Other than that temperaments are typically the same. Unusually unhappy. Easily angered and even more easily irritated. Tonight though I don't blame 'em. Who makes nachos with Wheat Thins?
“These are healthier, bro,” Chance tries to encourage.
“We're at a goddamn poker game,” Arik argues. “We don't really give a fuck about eating healthy right now.”
He's missed the last few get togethers. Figured he'd miss one or two when he quit workin' at The Castle, not basically vanish. Guess that's gonna be me if I quit. Hell, how can I even fuckin' worry 'bout shit like poker nights when I won't even be workin' in the same city anymore. Could drive eight hours every other week jus' to play, but that seems extreme.
“Why didn't you just order pizza like usual?” I sigh, snatching my beer.
“I wanted to give our bodies something a little easier. Tomorrow's gonna be hard enough on us.”
“Is this that fucking weird brown dip?” Arik complains again. “What the hell did I tell you about this shit?”
“All this pissing and moaning is ruining my energy.”
“And that shit,” Zane grunts pushing away the heap of mystery dip. “Stop fucking sayin' shit like that at poker night. We get enough of it at work.”
“It's just how I am, bro.”
“So glad I don't have to put up with that shit on a regular anymore,” Arik chortles and grabs his glass bottle. “Pretty sure I was one kumbaya away from punching you in your pretty boy face.”
“Aw,” Chance coos. “You think I'm pretty. I've missed you too.”
“I haven't missed you on his nuts,” Brock barks. “Can we fucking play cards already?”
Arik shrugs. “I'd ask what's got you in a pissed off mood, but Chance's pathetic excuse for nachos, answers that for me.”
“This isn't positive pre-Thanksgiving energy,” Chance repeats.
“Maybe it'd be a little better if we were putting slices of actual tortillas with actual meat and sauce in our mouths instead of crackers, mushed peas, and tofu.”
Arik shoots a finger at Zane. “Another non-poker word.”
I don't really give a fuck what he serves tonight as long as the beer continues to fuckin' flow. My so called girlfriend has been avoidin' me since the wedding last weekend. We had a fight. Well, not sure if we can exactly call it a fight since I expressed my frustration and she shut down. Didn't say a word the entire car ride home. We even split without a good night kiss, which fucked with my head for the rest of the night. I've called but the conversations have been brief. We've texted but they've been even shorter. She says I'll know when things are over, which is the only reason I'm still holdin' onto hope I haven't fucked everything up for simply losin' my temper over a pair of bank accounts with faces.
Brock shuffles the cards a final time and deals them out.
“How does it feel to be a free man?” I question, my double sided curiosity lost upon everyone.