It took me longer than usual to get to sleep after work, so I didn't wake up until early afternoon. Without Rosa bustling about, it was actually fairly quiet in the apartment and I took advantage of it by being a bit lazy and taking my time. Besides, it was my day off and I was going to spend the evening and most of the night with Brock – and Julien, I now realized – so I wanted to savor the time alone. I was glad Brock was here and I wanted to be with him, but I so rarely had the opportunity for guaranteed uninterrupted time to myself that I certainly wasn't going to waste it.

By the time I was on my way to Brock's hotel, I'd already enjoyed a long, slow shower and a leisurely brunch while reading a book: my idea of a great morning. I was feeling relaxed and was ready to enjoy whatever the weekend threw my way.

I'd dressed for the heat in a cute mint green sundress, but in my purse was a wrap that had belonged to my mother in anticipation of the air conditioning on the strip. When I arrived at the hotel, my skin was beaded with sweat, but I'd at least remembered sunscreen so I wasn't fried. Red-heads with fair skin and the desert sun are a dangerous combination without some heavy-duty SPF.

Brock had texted me his room number last night so I didn't bother to stop at the desk but rather headed straight for the elevators. Of course, he was near the top so I endured several floors of canned music before the doors dinged and I was able to step out onto his floor.

Julien answered my knock, his easy grin prompting me to give him one in return. I didn't really know much about him other than the gossip at St. George, but he seemed nice enough. I supposed if Brock had to bring anyone with him to Vegas; Julien seemed like a good choice. Then again, I'd thought Reed was a better man than Brock, and I'd been completely wrong about him.

“He's in the shower,” Julien said as I stepped inside a hotel room bigger than my apartment. “He decided to clean out the minibar last night.”

“Enough said.” I rolled my eyes. We sat on the couch, one on either end, half facing each other. “You didn't indulge?”

Julien shook his head. “I'm not much of a drinker. A beer every once in a while, but I'm too much of a control freak to let myself get completely wasted.”

“A control freak?” I arched an eyebrow. “I must admit; that's one adjective I hadn't heard used to describe you.”

His grin widened. “Oh, I'm sure I can imagine what you have heard. Brock told me you went to St. George. Rebecca Stirling's class, right?”

I scowled and he laughed.

“I guess that's my answer.” Julien pushed his hair out of his eyes. “I know how all the snobs at St. George criticized me because I didn't like their pretentious parties or care about whose daddies had the most money or the biggest yacht.”

“That's because your dad always had the biggest yacht.” Brock's voice came from behind us.

Desire flared in my stomach as I turned. He was fresh from the shower, wearing only a towel that barely covered everything. I had the sudden urge to lick the droplets of water from his tanned skin.

“I'll be out in a couple minutes.” Brock winked at me as he turned, and a moment later I knew why. He tossed his towel back into the bathroom, giving me a clear and mouth-watering view of his tight ass as he walked away.

“About yesterday,” Julien said, drawing my reluctant attention back to him. “I didn't know you worked at the club. Brock just said we were going out.”

I waved a hand as I turned back around to face him. “It's a job, not like it was my life's ambition or anything. And at least I'm working.”

He gave me a curious look. “What was your life's ambition then?”

“Dance.” I smoothed down my dress. “Actual dance, not stripping.”

He nodded. “I can see it. You have the body and grace of a dancer.” He flushed. “I mean–”

“It's okay,” I said. “I know what you meant.” It was nice to know that all of Brock's friends didn't automatically assume that because I’m a stripper I was an easy lay.

“All right.” Brock emerged from the bedroom looking as hot as ever. “Who's ready to have some fun?”

When I entered the casino with Brock's arm around my waist and Julien on my other side, I was surprised at how many people stared at us. Then a man in an expensive suit hurried over and I realized that Brock was well-known here.

“Mr. Michaels, a pleasure to see you again.” The man gave a little bow to Brock, then to me and Julien. “Welcome to your friends as well.”

“Anything exciting going on tonight, Johnson?” Brock asked as he looked around the room.

I glanced over at Julien and he seemed almost as unimpressed as I was. Apparently, he hadn't come to Vegas for the gambling. I looked around as Brock led Julien and me after Johnson. It was funny, but even after two years, I'd only stepped into a casino half a dozen times, and only ever to apply for a job. I didn't have a problem with gambling, but it had never really appealed to me. Probably because I'd never had extra money at any point in my life.

“Come be my good luck charm,” Brock said as he sat at one of the tables. He yanked me onto his lap and then pushed out the chair next to him. “There you go, Julien.”

“I'd rather not,” Julien said mildly.

“Don't be a spoilsport, man. I know you got the cash. Get some chips and play.” Brock's voice had taken on an edge that made it hard to tell if he was just messing around or if he was serious.

Julien sighed and sat down. “All right, I'll play. But I'm not drinking.”

Brock rolled his eyes and gestured to a cute blonde who was hovering nearby. “Scotch on the rocks for me and a glass of champagne for my girl.”

“I'm fine, Brock,” I mumbled. My face was heating up as the other men at the table looked at me. I was fine with a little PDA, but sitting on Brock's lap like some sort of trophy was a bit beyond my comfort zone. I just didn't know how to tell Brock without embarrassing him, so I didn't say anything.

I quickly discovered that I was pretty much decoration. Julien occasionally spoke to me as he waited for the others to play their hands, asking about things like how Vegas compared to Philadelphia and what had prompted me to move, but no one else did. Brock talked at me, calling me his good luck charm and saying how he was winning because of me, but he never asked if I was enjoying myself or even if I wanted to play. If it wasn't for the way his thumb was tracing patterns on my stomach, I'd almost have thought he'd be just as content with a blow-up doll on his lap.

He was four drinks in when he started to lose. It was just a little here and there, not even close to cutting in to his winnings, but I could see the annoyance on his face. I wondered if he didn't want to lose in front of me or if it was because Julien was the one who kept beating him. By the sixth drink, he was past angry-drunk and into goofy-drunk, which actually was a mixed blessing. While I preferred funny to mean any day, I didn't like the fact that he was starting to get handsy.

“We should get him back to the room,” Julien finally said after watching me stop Brock from trying to put his hand up my skirt for what seemed the hundredth time.

I nodded, agreeing completely as I pulled Brock’s hand away from my breast. At least, thanks to my job, I knew how to handle drunken advances. “Hey, baby.” I put my mouth against his ear. “Why don't we head back to your room?”

He turned his head and blinked at me, his eyes blood-shot and his gaze unfocused. “My room?”

I kept my voice low. “You're still ahead, so why don't you cash out those chips and we can take the party back to the hotel?”

“You've already kicked my ass,” Julien lied. “Time to call it a night.”

“Course I kicked your ass,” Brock slurred. “You suck at cards.”

The other men at the table laughed, but Brock didn't seem to notice. He pressed the side of his face against my neck.

“You smell good.”

I sighed as I disentangled myself from his arms and stood. Julien collected the chips and went to cash out while I worked to get Brock on his feet. He could stand, but apparently didn't want to. All of my attempts to get him up were met with laughter, both his and the rest of the men at the table.

“Crazy drunk,” Julien muttered as he returned. He handed me a bag that I assumed carried the combined winnings and then leaned over to haul Brock out of the chair.

“Would you like me to call Mr. Michaels a cab?” Johnson was back, completely professional, obviously used to practically carrying drunks out the door.

I glanced at Julien and he nodded. “Thank you; that would helpful.” I sighed; deeply grateful Julien was choosing not to walk. He seemed a bit more equipped to handle – or rather, manhandle – Brock and I hadn't been sure which would have been harder, trying to get Brock to walk back to the hotel in an attempt to sober him up or dealing with him in a cab.

“He doesn't usually throw up when he's drunk,” Julien said as he helped Brock walk towards the exit. “So I figured he'd be safe in a cab.”

“Good to know,” I said. That would've turned tonight from basically boring into out-and-out awful.

“You've never seen him get this plastered before, have you?” Julien asked.

I shook my head. I didn't remember our drunken encounter at the bachelor party, so I skipped that and went to the one time I had seen him drinking. “We both got drunk at his sister's wedding, but it was closer to just buzzed and tipsy rather than full-out drunk like this.”

“We were college roommates,” Julien explained. “I sometimes think I've seen him drunk more than sober.”

“College roommates?” I couldn't say I was genuinely surprised that Brock hadn't mentioned college, but I shouldn’t have been surprised that he'd gone.

Julien grinned at me as Brock shouted something that sounded like some Greek letters that I assumed belonged to a fraternity, though I doubted one was actually called “alpo beto soup.”

“NYU for a year,” Julien said as he shoved Brock into the backseat of the cab and then climbed in after him. After I'd followed, he continued, “Brock flunked out and I dropped out. He went home to Philly to do whatever it is that he does and I went on a tour of Europe.”

“You went on a tour of Europe?” I echoed.

“Backpacking, and I mean that in the original sense. A lot of walking, doing odd jobs here and there. Two changes of clothes. Growing a beard.”

I laughed at that one. I couldn't picture smooth-shaven Julien with a five o'clock shadow, let alone a beard. I was starting to understand why Julien was the black sheep in his family. When rich kids said they were backpacking around Europe, it usually meant with a stack of their parents' cash and reservations at the finest hotels. The slightly more rebellious ones might stay at hostels to 'experience' Europe, but none of them would even consider having only two sets of clothes and actually working for their money.

“I grew a beard once,” Brock announced. “It itched.” He scratched his face as if re-living the memory.

Julien and I both burst out laughing and, after a moment, so did Brock though I was sure he didn't know why. With Brock being in such a good mood, it was easier to deal with him when he kept trying to grab my breasts. Finally, I had to hold both of his hands, and even then he was still trying to grope me.

As we arrived at the hotel, I noticed Julien giving me an odd look. “What?” I asked.

“I'm just a little surprised you're being so adamant about keeping his hands off you. I mean, he is your boyfriend. It's not like he hasn't touched you before, right?” Julien followed me out of the cab and then leaned over to help get Brock out.

“I wasn't thinking of it that way,” I answered honestly. “I was more thinking that I get enough of drunk guys grabbing at me at work and there isn't really much I can do there. I’m not about to put up with it from him.”

I knew I sounded like I was complaining, but I was telling the truth. If we'd been in the hotel room, I probably would've let it go, but I was tired of being treated like meat. When he was groping me in public, that's what I felt like.

I yelped and jumped back as Brock threw up all over the sidewalk, narrowly missing Julien's shoes. Suddenly the groping didn't seem so bad. Better dealing with that than spending the entire ride with puke in my lap.

“You're cute, you know that?” Brock threw his arm around my shoulders and leaned against me heavily enough to make me stagger. I grimaced at his stench of his breath.

“Come on, buddy, let's get you upstairs.” Julien took Brock's other arm and took most of the weight off of me. Together, we walked passed the blank-faced doorman, through the doors and over to the elevators.

Once inside, Brock leaned toward Julien and spoke in a not-so-quiet voice. “My girlfriend's hot.”

Julien looked over Brock's head at me, eyes twinkling.

“Do you think my girlfriend's hot?”

“Sure, Brock.” He gave me a wink that said he was only half-kidding.

“You should see her naked,” Brock said and then snorted a laugh. “Right, you did.”

I felt my expression harden and Julien's eyes darkened while Brock continued to howl.

“Well, not completely naked.” Brock turned to me. “Cause you don't show the pussy at work, do you?” He smirked. “Except for me.”

“Man, you're going to want to shut up.” Julien gave Brock a shake, but it didn't do any good.

“She didn't just show it to me,” Brock said. “She sucked my cock then rode me like nobody's business.”

My face flooded with heat. If this was how Brock talked when he was drunk, I really didn't want to know how much of our sex life he'd spilled over the past couple weeks. Horror washed over me as I was hit with the thought of Brock and Reed drinking together. Reed knew that Brock and I had slept together, but that didn't mean I wanted him to know the details.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, I walked off, leaving Julien to help Brock alone. I didn't doubt he'd understand. Still, I was close enough to hear Brock as I was walking away.

“Just take a look at that ass. So firm.”

I waited by the door, arms folded, head down. I'd thought I'd been mortified when I'd seen Reed at his bachelor party. I thought I'd been humiliated over the years by Rebecca and others like her. Nothing in my past, however, had prepared me for hearing someone that claimed to care about me talk about the intimate details of our relationship in such a coarse manner.

Maybe Anastascia had been right after all.

I set my jaw. I refused to believe that. People weren't always themselves when they were drunk. He'd feel like shit tomorrow when he found out what he'd done and he'd make it up to me I was sure.

I clung to that as Julien opened the door and the three of us went inside.

“You don't have to be here,” Julien said as I turned on the light.

“Are you going to be able to get him in the shower and into bed by yourself?” I asked.

Julien gave me a surprised look. “I was just planning on dumping him in his room, making sure he was on his side so he didn't choke if he puked again and then leave him to sleep it off.”

“That's not a very nice thing to do,” Brock said.

“Shut up,” Julien snapped. “You're being an asshole.”

“I am?” Brock sounded surprised. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm not the one you need to apologize to.” Julien dragged Brock back toward one of the bedrooms.

“Bathroom, Julien,” I said. “He reeks of alcohol and puke.”

“Who do I need to apologize to?” Brock gave Julien a puzzled look as the two men turned into the bathroom.

“Piper.”

Brock looked at me, as if surprised to still see me there. He grinned at me. “Piper's sexy.”

I rolled my eyes as Julien sat Brock on the toilet and knelt down to pull off his shoes.

“I'll bet Julien thinks you're sexy,” Brock said. He poked Julien in the shoulder. “And it's not just cuz it's been a while since he got laid either.”

“Fuck you,” Julien muttered as he tossed Brock's shoes into a corner.

Brock's face lit up as I tugged his shirt over his head. “I have an idea!”

I was pretty sure I didn't want to hear it, but nothing was going to stop Brock from sharing.

“We should all fuck each other.”

Julien and I both froze, staring at Brock. I couldn't see the other man, but I felt safe in assuming that his face was as shocked as mine.

“Well, not us fuck each other.” Brock laughed as he gestured to Julien and himself before looking up at me. “But we should both fuck you.” He slid his hand between my legs, his eyes glittering. “You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

The moment his fingers brushed against my underwear, I pushed him back. “Asshole!”

I was furious by the time we wrestled him out of the last of his clothes and got him into the shower. Julien ended up having to hold Brock under the water just to get him rinsed off, so I dried my still obnoxious boyfriend while Julien took off his wet shirt and toweled himself dry. Fortunately, as we were finishing up, Brock's eyes began to close along with his mouth and we practically had to drag dead weight across the hall. We dumped him on the bed stark naked and I yanked a blanket over him even though I told myself he didn't deserve it.

As Julien and I walked back out to the main area, he said, “Well, that was interesting.”

“To say the least,” I agreed. I wasn't sure I could look at Julien now. Brock hadn't given up his threesome idea. In fact, while we'd finished getting him cleaned up, he'd described the scene in detail surprisingly vivid for someone as drunk as he was.

“I need a beer,” Julien said, crossing to the mini-fridge. “What about you?”

Brock had gotten me champagne at the casino, but I hadn't drunk very much of it. A beer sounded good. “Yes, please.”

“You don't have to feel weird around me.” Julien's back was to me as he rummaged in the fridge. When he emerged with a bottle in either hand, he added, “I'm used to Brock being like that.” He handed me a bottle. “I promise, I won't try to picture the three of us in bed together.”

I laughed as he smiled and the tension between us eased. I'd been planning on leaving now that Brock was passed out, but as Julien and I each drank some of our beer, I decided that it wouldn't hurt anything to stay a little bit longer.