Chapter Seven
“Dude, I told you I’m not in the mood for a bunch of shit,” Ross claimed as he sat drinking bourbon at Austin’s kitchen island. Rose and Evelyn had hugged him and left, on their way to some birthday party or another. The little girl had Liesl’s spunk but more of Evelyn’s looks than Austin’s. Evelyn was glowing and radiant, almost seven months pregnant with a much-desired second child.
“It’s not a bunch of shit, man. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Ross frowned and finished the bourbon, then got to his feet and stretched. He and Elisa had spent the night making love, sleeping and waking to make love again. She’d somehow magically arranged for Liesl to stay at a friend’s house and, although he felt a tad guilty, he was glad of the time they’d gotten to spend alone. He was sore in all the right places now, but sleepy as hell and pissed that Austin had called him at the last minute today and told him to ‘dress up a little’ because he needed Ross’s help at some meet-up about the brewery.
Elisa had left for the restaurant over an hour later than she’d planned, but after his sex drought he’d turned into a randy, eager teenager, hard and ready for her when she’d emerged from the shower. He’d slept another hour or two, made a couple of new consulting appointments, then gotten Austin’s message before he’d picked Liesl up and delivered her to the restaurant on his way out of town. He was wearing dark jeans, a pair of shiny cowboy boots he’d had made for himself on a trip to Texas and a light blue and white patterned dress shirt Elisa had given him for Christmas. Grumbling all the way to Grand Rapids at the thought of some fucking meeting about Fitzgerald Brewing Company when he’d been ready for a weekend of booze, sun, swimming and poker, he now sat waiting for Austin to finish primping so they could get it over with.
“I hear things are better at home,” Austin said as he shot out onto the interstate in his latest expensive German car, heading somewhere—Ross didn’t care right then. His head was buzzing from exhaustion and he wondered how long he’d last during this so-called meeting.
“Yeah. They are. Thanks. Hit a speed bump for a bit. You know.”
“Yeah, I do.” They enjoyed a comfortable, masculine silence the rest of the way, the necessary conversation about relationships behind them. When Austin pulled up to the valet parking at one of the fancier strip clubs in town, Ross eyed him.
“And why, exactly, are we here? Not that I mind…but still.”
Austin grinned at him then got out, tossed the keys to the valet kid and held out an arm, indicating Ross should precede him into the dark, perfumed, glittery space. As younger men, they’d visited plenty of these places, but he hadn’t been to one in years—definitely not since meeting Elisa. Ross stood, arms crossed, glaring at his friend who had the biggest shit-eating grin ever. Finally, Austin took his arm and shoved him through the door, where he was greeted by Trent, Austin’s brother Brock and three of his oldest brewer buddies—two of whom must have flown in from the west coast. When he glared over his shoulder, Austin shrugged as if to say “who knew?” then laughed and slapped him on the back.
“Welcome to your bachelor party, my friend.” Brock stuck a cigar into his mouth. Trent handed him a beer. A couple of women, who had a distinct yet appropriate lack of clothing for such a place, emerged from behind his brewer pals. The ladies looped their arms into his. He grinned around the cigar.
“Okay, if this is my bachelor party, do I assume there’s a wedding imminent?”
“You could say that,” Trent said, turning to lead the group into the dark room and over to a private table in one corner. They all sat, one of the women in Ross’ lap as she lit his stogie. He puffed then patted her thigh.
“I’m sorry, beautiful lady, but I don’t know if I can take all this perfection at once.” He glanced down at her bare breasts, then away. “Why don’t you check back in with us in a few?” The woman pouted for a few seconds, then got up and took some money from Austin before making her way to the bar to find another mark. Ross shook his head, admiring her rear view. “Good God, Austin, does your wife know that you’ve regressed to this?” He gestured around the place. “I mean, seriously.” He looked at Trent. “And I know your woman would eat your balls for breakfast if she knew you were here.”
Trent chuckled and puffed his cigar without comment.
They all got distracted by the energetic stage show for a few minutes. A gorgeous waitress brought them more drinks. Ross felt himself slipping, thanks to the lack of sleep, the excess of sex the night before and the booze. “So, just curious. When is the wedding part of this thing?”
He smiled at his friend, prepared to hear that it would be in a month or so, once Elle and Evelyn got it organized.
“Oh, that?” Austin glanced around the table. The other men stared down at their drinks or up at the acrobatic naked chick prancing on the stage. Austin leaned closer, motioning for Ross to join him, then put a hand on the back of Ross’s neck. “Congratulations, my man. Tomorrow you’re marrying your dream woman.”
Ross reared back, knocking his fresh beer to the table, to the dismay of the group. Loud shouts of “Beer foul! You buy the next round!” barely made a dent in his psyche. He kept staring at Austin, not a hundred percent sure the man wasn’t simply fucking with him. But his friend nodded and held up his glass. “Between Evelyn, Melody and Elle they managed to set the whole damn thing up in the last two weeks.”
“Two. Weeks.” He shifted away when a bunch of half-dressed women cleaned their table and plunked down fresh drinks. “That was…after Liesl…” He closed his eyes for a few seconds.
“Yep,” Austin confirmed, keeping his gaze on Ross. “You all right?”
“Yeah. I mean. Sure. I mean. Fuuuuuuck.”
“I thought you’d say that.”
“I don’t have clothes for, uh, a wedding.”
“You think our women didn’t figure that into their plans?”
“But…I don’t…I mean…” He ran a shaking hand down his face.
“You’re a lucky man, Hoffman,” Trent said from the other side of the table. He held up his glass. “Here’s to Elisa Nagel soon-to-be Hoffman,” he declared.
“To Elle,” they all said, clinking together over the damp table.
“To Elle,” Ross repeated, staring into his glass then up at Austin. “This is really happening?”
Austin chuckled and patted his head as if he were a little kid. “Yep. Sure is. Now, I suggest you enjoy this fine evening we’ve planned for you. Tomorrow you gotta tie on the ball and chain.” He stuck his cigar into his mouth and held up his left hand, pointing to his wedding ring with the other. One of his brewer friends smacked his shoulder when a topless woman arrived bearing a tray full of brown liquor shots. “Drink up, my friend,” Austin proclaimed, picking up one of the small glasses.
“To Elle!” the table cried.
Ross glanced at his phone before he drank again and saw a message from her.
Are you surprised? I hope so. I want this to be as special for you as it is for me.
He grinned and replied, It was already special. But I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, once I’m done at the titty bar with my buddies.
The what?!
He waited. Her next message came quickly.
Only kidding. I know mouth breathers like you and those others have to stare at naked titties sometimes to remind yourselves of your proper place in the world. I love you, Hoffman, & I’ll see you tomorrow. I’ll be the one walking toward you in the white dress. Oh, and I have another secret. But I’m saving it so don’t get too drunk, ok?
He didn’t reply, knowing one wasn’t required of him. But he stared for several minutes at her words, his heart full and his mind clear—well, as clear as it could be, considering how much he was about to fucking drink.