“Nice,” I say to Marty as he exits the dressing room. He’s dressed in a fine, slim-fitting suit. I can tell from the look on his face that he is not digging the brown, though.

“I think I’d rather do the traditional thing and go for black,” Marty grumbles as he tries the tie on that Amy, his wife-to-be, had picked out to go with the suits. The ties match the bridesmaids’ dresses, so that was her only criteria as far as suits go. Right now, I’m betting that Marty almost wishes Amy had done this too. “What do you guys think?” Marty asks and turns to us.

“If you want to do black, do black,” Bobby says, and I swear I almost forgot he was here. He’s been really quiet; he, along with the rest of us, hadn’t really expected Marty to ask him to be a groomsmen. The timid former alcoholic lawyer, Bobby, has only recently joined our group of friends. In addition to Bobby and me, there’s Tyler and Marty’s younger brother Randy that will be standing in as groomsmen. Tyler had been asked to be the best man.

“Yeah, well, black doesn’t really go with this whole theme that Amy’s got going on,” Marty grumbles. “I wish she had come to help me with this.”

Randy, basically a teenaged version of his brother, rolls his eyes. “Damn it, Marty, I’m not trying on anymore tux’s, I swear to God. We’ve been here all fucking day.” The words are harsh, but his tone is playful.

“I got a thought,” I say and Marty grunts in my general direction. He and Marty are both still a little peeved off at me for the way I treated Laurel. Bobby is too, but he’s a lot less vocal about it. Never thought Randy would be the guy I’d be making small talk with when hanging out with my close friends. “Chill for a second, would you?” I say and roll my eyes. I point at the brown suit he’s wearing. “Do that suit in charcoal gray. Gray will go better with this so-called theme, but it’s not so off the wall as the brown you’re wearing.”

The woman who has been helping us darts off to locate the same suit Marty is currently wearing in charcoal before Marty starts debating with himself for ten minutes before trying it on. She returns shortly and shoos Marty back into the changing room, handing him the new suit. He emerges, and he is looking pretty fly. “Nice,” Bobby says.

“Yeah, Amy will like that,” Randy adds.

Marty checks himself out in the mirror, and he puts on the tie –crooked, of course. Am I seriously the only one in my group of friends who knows how to tie a damn tie? I help him out, and he nods approvingly once he can see the look in full. “Yeah, I like it. Let’s go with that,” he says and offers me a smile. “Thanks, man.”

Yes –something other than a grimace! The rest of us get fitted for the matching suits, and we make it out of there in time to head to our dinner reservations –a sort of pre-celebratory bachelor party. I’m sure Tyler has something better planned for the actual bachelor party, but it’s not like we’re not going to enjoy ourselves at dinner tonight… except for Bobby and I since these assholes won’t let either of us former alcoholics drink.

Randy bails on us, which Marty had expected and hoped for. I’m pretty sure Randy was just asked to be a groomsman because Marty needed the numbers and because their mother had insisted. So now it’s just the four of us again, sitting at a bar and enjoying an array of appetizers while Bobby and I stare longingly at the pitcher Marty and Tyler had ordered.

We talk about Marty and about Amy; it’s the most obvious conversational topic to have with their wedding rapidly approaching. About halfway through dinner, the conversation turns towards the big elephant in the room: me, Brandi, and Laurel. “So how is it working at the gym with Laurel there?” Tyler asks flatly.

“She hasn’t been coming to the gym,” I say. “I guess she just needs some time.”

“I would too,” Marty grumbles. “You were an ass.”

“Look, I don’t want to hear it from you, Marty –especially not after I found out you were being Brandi’s little spy,” I snarl.

Marty leans back in the booth and crosses his arms. “Yeah, that was before you got seriously involved with Laurel, though –and I was trying to help you out, man. I was telling her about how you were getting your shit together because, in case you had forgotten, you’re kind of having a kid with her. Thought I was helping.”

“All right, easy guys,” Bobby says. “I think we can all agree Jonathan was a dick, but Brandi is his wife.”

“Was,” Tyler corrected; I’m sure he’s been getting an earful from Marianna about the whole ordeal.

“Was,” Bobby says.

“You two used to like Brandi,” I say while glaring across the table at Marty and Tyler.

“Yeah, well, we like Laurel too,” Marty says. “And leaving her to try to restore whatever you had with Brandi would have been one thing, man, but you just packed up your shit in the middle of the night without warning. Laurel deserved better than that.”

Didn’t realize my fellas were so taken by Laurel. I guess they have a lot more in common with the MMA star than the dainty ballerina that’s currently carrying my child. “We liked Brandi, Jonathan,” Tyler says, “But come on –she was sleeping with that creep Donte. That was just a jab at you, and you know it. I mean, it’s not like she cheated or anything, but what kind of sense does that make?”

“All right, that’s enough,” I warn. “Brandi and I are back together, and we’re having a baby. A daughter. And that’s how it’s going to be, and I’d appreciate it if my friends would not treat her like shit –got it?”

“Got it,” Tyler and Marty grumble.

“So is she that bad?” Bobby asks; he hadn’t met me until after Brandi and I had split.

“No, she’s actually pretty decent,” Tyler admits. “She just couldn’t handle this moron when he fell off the wagon and ruined his career.”

Bobby huffs. “I can relate.”

“What is your story anyways?” Tyler asks, pulling the attention off of me and onto Bobby. “Jonathan says you used to be the city’s DA?”

“My story is that I couldn’t handle my drink. I got fired. My lady left me. I joined AA. Then I got a job as a grunge boy at a small law firm that was willing to take a chance on me. That’s pretty much it,” Bobby says.

I’m pretty sure that Marty is the only one of us who really has his shit together. Tyler, the former foster kid, lives in a ghetto-ass apartment in the sketchiest neighborhood in town; he’s an amateur boxer who has to work a second job at the city dump to make ends meet. I’m a washed up boxer and former alcoholic who is sleeping with his ex-wife just because she turned up pregnant. Then there’s Bobby –the former DA who is lucky if he gets put on a small case that far less experienced lawyers would turn their noses up at. These are my guys, though. It makes me miss Gabe; I think he would have liked Bobby. Gabe was on his way to bigger and better things, I’m sure. He probably would have gone from a trainers assistant to a head trainer or even a professional boxer in a few years had he not been killed. I try not to think about it –to think about our kid brother we had lost. For now, I just enjoy giving Marty a hard time about his upcoming betrothal. At least he and Tyler are talking to me again.