Drunk in Love

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by Anthology


  “Let me tell you how fun that is every time my credit is pulled,” I joke dryly. I’ve always hated my name and loathe calling any business that requires my background to be pulled because even though I of course have a separate social security number, they always pull one of the other Camden Wallace’s without fail.

  When my mom turns her head to the side, I know she doesn’t appreciate what I’ve said. To her family values are very important, which is one of the largest contributing reasons I reserved two rooms for Tressa and me leading up to the wedding—the biggest being that Tressa thought it was necessary.

  “Mom,” I begin, already past my wit’s end. “Did you know that Tressa,” I stress the “R” in her name, “is not only the love of my life…” I give her a long and leveling stare to tell her to stop being difficult “…but has also been offered a copy editing job for Gourmet Magazine, you know that one you’ve been getting since I was a kid?” As I had expected, my mom’s eyes light up and her lips curl into a smile. “Doesn’t it just seem like fate?”

  And just like that, seeing my soon-to-be wife nearly naked and having her only son get married to a girl he’s only known for six months with a shotgun wedding suddenly doesn’t seem important, if even relevant, as she turns her smile to Tressa.

  But I don’t focus on their conversation for long because our wedding planner, Darla, is headed our way with a deep frown marring her face.

  “I’m so sorry,” she begins, wringing her hands out as she stands before us. “The hall is flooded. The floors are going to be ruined if we don’t bring in dehumidifiers and fans. And the ceiling has caved in. A guest left a bathtub running and had their do not disturb sign on and it has done so much damage.”

  “Was anyone hurt?” I ask.

  She shakes her head but still looks on the brink of tears. “But I don’t know what we’re going to do about your wedding.”

  5

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Tressa

  Camden and I don’t see the wedding hall or even the gardens. Mrs. Wallace left us with regret heavy on her brow, but before she left, she hugged me and for the first time something felt like it was finally in place before I realized the rest of my perfect puzzle was just destroyed.

  Camden slouches on the side of the bed, his head in both hands while I pace around the small space, allowing too many thoughts to congregate.

  “What are you thinking?” Over the past six months I thought I had seen every expression pass over Camden’s face, but as I look to him I realize I was wrong. Never before have I seen his eyes so wide with fear and doubt or his mouth slack because he can’t figure out what to say. He never has a shortage of words, even on occasions when he probably should.

  “I think we should delay the wedding,” I admit. I’ve rehearsed the words so many times in my head that they come out sounding convincing and surprisingly strong since I currently feel anything but, and then my heart feels like it is struck by an cast-iron skillet when I watch Camden’s eyes grow impossibly wider as his lids fill with tears. I don’t know how to respond or react. Everything that has occurred today leading up to this moment makes postponing the wedding sound like a brilliant idea. More than brilliant, it seems like everything has pointed us in that direction, telling us it’s not right.

  “Tressa, talk to me. What’s going on? What are you thinking right now? I don’t understand,” he admits. “Is this because of my mother, or the hotel, or are you reconsidering getting married to me?”

  Pain slices through my chest, and I shake my head to rid his last words from existence. “Of course I want to marry you.” I grab his hand and kneel in front of where he’s sitting on the bed. “I just feel like everything that could go wrong has and that maybe it’s telling us something.”

  “It is,” he says. “It’s saying we should have gone to Vegas.”

  My laugh is too loud and too long, grateful for his sarcastic side returning; his eyes to have that playful glint in them once more. And then reality hits me like a steam roller as his smile grows into the one that has stopped me from even looking at another man and has me comparing every story from my friends to what I know is perfection because Camden is that for me: perfect.

  “Let’s go,” I tell him, rising to my feet.

  He pulls his head back and his eyes slit. “Go where?”

  “Vegas!”

  “Babe, you’re saying this now, but you’ll regret it. You want our families to be with us.”

  “Then you need to call your dad and convince him to get on a plane if he wants to see it and get a slice of cake.”

  Camden studies me, waiting to see if I falter from this course I’ve set out on. “I’m serious!” I cry, grabbing for my phone. “Call them. I’m calling my parents. If they don’t come, we’re going without them.”

  He stops me by squeezing the hand he’s still holding and waits until my focus is solely on him. “Are you sure?”

  “No,” I admit. “I don’t feel sure about most things and there’s a chance I’ll look back and hate that we got married in Vegas and will likely regret that if our families don’t come.”

  Camden opens his mouth, likely ready to create another option for our scenario or agree to postpone the wedding, making me raise my voice and continue.

  “However, there is one thing I am absolutely sure of, and that is my love for you. There is nothing in this world I want more than to be your wife.”

  He smiles and it’s so wide that the corners of his eyes even turn up. “For our ten-year anniversary we’ll renew our vows and will do it wherever you want, Tress.”

  “For now, viva Las Vegas, baby!” I feel my own face beaming in response.

  “Viva Las Vegas!”

  The End

  ABOUT MARIAH DIETZ

  Mariah Dietz is a West Coast transplant, living in the South with her husband, two sons, and two dogs that are the axis of her crazy and wonderful world.

  Mariah grew up in a tiny town outside of Portland, Oregon where she spent the majority of her time immersed in the pages of books that she both read and created.

  She has a love for all things that include her sons, good coffee, books, travel, and dark chocolate. She also has a deep passion for the stories she writes, and hopes readers enjoy the journeys she takes them on as much as she loves creating them.

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  ONE AND DONE

  M.D. Saperstein

  1

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Come on, Rose. I thought you were going to watch strippers, not dress like one.”

  That’s Pike, the groom, and my future brother-in-law, prattling on with his unsolicited and overly snarky opinion. I just roll my eyes and push past him, walking through the door of his condo. That’s how he greets me. It’s par for the course. We definitely have a love/hate relationship. It’s mostly my fault, but whatever. He deserved the shitstorm that I brought down on him after he did what he did to my older sister, Violet.

  Speaking of which, I’m here to pick Violet up to drag her to her own bachelorette party. I know she really doesn’t want to go; our history at a male strip club is definitely not stellar. Abominable, actually. And she fought me tooth and nail about coming, this time and last, but when Pike voiced his opinion, stating he was vehemently against us going, well, that just lit a fire under my sister’s very dutiful ass, and she decided it wasn’t his decision. So here we are, going to a strip club, just to spite her man. Stupid, but I’ll take it.

  With the way my life has been going this year, I could really use a good screw. And strippers are a great way to get it without any expectations or strings. Nobody to get attached to and nobody to want more. Cause I don�
�t have any more to give. Been there done that. And I’ve decided there is just no man out there able to handle me. I walk over them all. So now I just take what I need and move on. Scratch the itch and eliminate the headache.

  I raise my hands to my sides then do a spin. “Don’t hate, appreciate,” I say to Pike, a cheesy shit eating grin on my face.

  Look, I know I look hoochie. I also know that I look good. I’m young and single and sexy. I’m petite at only 5’2” and luckily inherited my mother’s Latina curves in all the right places. I fill out this little black dress like it was made for me. And my long, black, thick hair is curled perfectly down my back, while my perpetually tanned skin is the perfect canvas for my makeup, which is on point. Add to that my fuck me gold stilettos and I’m on fire tonight. No modesty here. That’s another trait I do not have in common with Violet. Ain’t got time for haters.

  Pike laughs genuinely then leans down and kisses me on the check. See? Love/hate. He stands back up, shaking his head.

  “You’re too much, Rose. You go get some… just make sure Vi and Daisy stay sweet and innocent.”

  “Psh,” I spit. “Now you and I both know…” I start but don’t bother finishing.

  Daisy is our youngest sister. She is away at college and came in this weekend solely for Violet’s bachelorette party. She is the smart Carmichael sister, and doesn’t like missing any classes, so we had to work this around her school exam schedule. The wedding isn’t actually for a few more months, but this was the only time we were all able to agree on.

  “I’m ready, I’m ready,” Violet sing songs as she walks out of the bedroom. She is wearing a cute hot pink dress and sandals. Not very daring, but I’m not saying a word. I don’t need her overthinking things. Plus, I don’t want to give her any reason to back out.

  “I’ve never seen that dress before. It’s cute,” I compliment her.

  “Actually…” she starts and I know I opened a damn can. “I wore it to Daisy’s high school graduation party. You were wearing that red jumpsuit and mom had on…”

  “Okay, okay, Sis. Sorry I got you started.”

  She just shrugs. She’s used to me cutting her off when she goes off on one of her memory tangents. She has Hyperthymesia. It’s a pain in the ass sometimes, but it is also very beneficial when you can’t remember something and need a refresher. Or help studying. Or remembering a dude’s name, or how good he was in bed, or if you should give him another chance, or any other detail she’s heard or read about him.

  “Here, this is for you.” I hand her a sash that says “Bachelorette” on it. She stares at it hanging off her pointer finger like I handed her a pair of dirty underwear. Then she looks at me like I am insane, and then proceeds to hang it around Pike’s neck.

  “No,” is all she says. One word.

  “Come on V, be a good sport,” I beg.

  “No,” she repeats with no explanation.

  “What about a tiara?” I try.

  She shakes her head. “Not a chance.”

  Three words. Okay, making progress.

  “Penis straws?” I offer thinking she is going to smack me. But shockingly, that got a smile on her face. Ah, so my straight-laced sister won’t wear a sash, but she will sip from a penis shaped straw. All right, whatever floats her boat.

  Pike just stands there chuckling at our exchange. Then Violet tests out a straw and I know I better get her out of here quickly when I hear Pike clearing his throat. Don’t think I didn’t notice him adjust himself in his now-tented sweats.

  “Let’s go, we gotta go pick up Daisy. She’s at her friend’s house.”

  “She’s not home?” Violet asks around the penis.

  “Ugh, no.” I grab the penis away from her, but not before I see Pike rubbing up against her. "Ew. Realmente no quiero ver eso," I complain.

  "Verde no es tu color hermanita," Violet shoots back at me rapid fire, but she is right. I pout for a few seconds then let it go. The truth hurts. Green really isn’t my color. I’ve got nothing else to say in return.

  Pike stands there watching us, his head ping ponging like he’s watching a tennis match, a huge grin on his handsome face. I didn’t say that, and if anyone asks, I will vehemently deny it. He chimes in, bringing us back to reality.

  “You two are acting crazy. Don’t think I’m not picking up what you’re putting down. I’ve been studying,” he admits, proud of himself. “And there is nothing gross about me doing this-” He stops talking then leans down and kisses Violet chastely.

  “You’re right Papi Chulo. Sorry, my love.” Violet apologizes to Pike then leans up on her tiptoes and kisses him again.

  “You are so fucking sexy,” he murmurs then grabs her ass.

  I’m pretty sure I heard him growl. Ugh.

  I roll my eyes. Then groan. Then huff. I never said I was the most mature Carmichael sister.

  I change the subject back to our youngest sister, Daisy. “You think Daddy would let her out of the house if he knew where we’re going?” I ask with a ‘duh’ undertone.

  “Smart man,” Pike mumbles.

  “Shut it, horn dog.”

  Pikes just laughs at me again. “I actually know the new owner. He’s a cool dude and I heard he’s revamped the club. I guess if you insist on going to a club, I’m glad it’s his. I know it will be a safe place for my favorite ladies.” He winks at me then leans down and kisses Violet on the temple. It’s their thing, don’t ask.

  You see, the thing is, and again, I will deny this till my last breath, but I kind of adore the pain in the ass. He is madly in love with my older sister and treats her like she walks on water. Of course, she does the same in return, but I wouldn’t expect any less from her. And it doesn’t hurt that he is easy on the eyes.

  I’m so relieved she found someone who loves her so much. She really does deserve it. I may act like a jealous bitch because, well, I am, but deep down, I couldn’t be happier for her.

  After many kisses and copious amounts of face sucking and inappropriate touching, I finally tear Violet away and we head to get Daisy and then to the club.

  2

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Get your ass to work in the next 15 minutes or consider yourself fired!” I shout at my now ex-employee - you and I both know he’s not coming to work - then slam down the phone. The exact reason why I still use a landline. There is no satisfaction in hitting the “call end” button on my cell when I’m pissed.

  This is not the first time Logan has blown off work this month. It’s not even the fourth, now that I think about it. Dick head. Now I need to rearrange the other guys in the club because fuck all if I’m going to get on that stage or walk through those crowds.

  It’ll be a great investment, they said. It’ll be easy money, they said. It will run itself, they said. Well fuck them and their bullshit! Buying a failed business and trying to turn it profitable is nothing close to easy. But that’s something I’m used to, and am really good at. Not having to be around to do it was the biggest lie they told. It’s an impossibility that I’m paying for as we speak.

  I bought this club after it was raided by the police. My buddy, Pike, from high school was the lead detective on the case. He knew I was looking to buy a new business and he hooked me up with the inside information. Ragin’ Richards was the name, if you can stomach that horrendousness. It was a sleazy strip club for women to grope at naked dudes. I bought it from the city and revamped it from top to bottom – save the landline and intercom system – into a modern, high-class club for women, staffed with hot men, to pamper them and entertain them. Yeah, sure, they are half naked. And, of course, they dance and strip-ish. But it isn’t a place for desperate chicks looking to get laid by a stripper, and there is no bullshit or drugs or nasty shit like that tolerated here. It’s a safe place for them to be uninhibited, and at the same time, be shown respect and chivalry. Ladies need a place like that.

  “Drew, please come to my office,” I call to tonight’s bartender over the intercom. Th
is may be a first class modern joint, but I kept the old school necessities in place. There’s a reason they were installed in the first place, who am I to screw with it? Archaic or not, it does its job.

  “Yeah, boss?” Drew asks as he enters my office, a towel slung over his shoulder. I am still sitting behind my desk and take the opportunity to assess him. He’s a good looking dude – I think. And I know he takes pride in his body and is in great shape because I see him at my gym every day. Plus, the ladies seem to love him. This should work out just fine.

  “I need to take you off the bar tonight. Logan’s not coming in,” I tell him.

  “Okay. And I’m doing what exactly?”

  “Have a seat,” I order gently. This is going to take some finessing.

  He sits down in one of seats across me. An eyebrow lifted in question.

  “I need you on the floor tonight,” I say bluntly. I don’t have time for games.

  “The floor?”

  I nod. Nothing else needs to be said.

  “Nuh uh. No way. I’m not ready for that,” he balks.

  “Listen, man. You’ve been asking for a chance at the floor. You’re great with the ladies and have the body to pull it off. There are a few bachelorette parties coming in tonight as well as a divorce party. They will probably be drunk and easy to please. If there is any right time to ease you onto the floor, this is it. Try it out tonight. You can tell me tomorrow if you want to go back to the bar.”

  He just stares at me. His mouth moves to say something, but nothing comes out. Guess he can’t find the words.

  “Thank you,” would be the words you are looking for. “You are getting what you’ve been asking me for these past six months.”

 

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