“Like how she was a stage five clinger growing up. After Mattie’s mom died, Victoria was forced to take her with her everywhere.”
“Sounds familiar.” I frown. “Mom never let me go anywhere without at least one of you little pricks in tow. Most of the time it was all of you.”
“Boo-hoo.” Adrian pretends to rub his eyes. “It’s not the same. I think what Anthony is saying is, Mattie is a drag. She’s no fun. She puts a damper on Victoria’s social life.”
I arch my brow. “You don’t think you fuckers put a damper on my social life?” They did, believe me. “Try going on a date with your little brother in the back seat.” True story.
Adrian throws his head back and laughs. “Jesus. I forgot about that.” He winks. “Wasn’t that Penny Jackson?” He nods. “Yeah, it was. Man, she was hot. Whatever happened to her?”
“No idea.”
“Back to Mattie,” Anthony continues. “Even now, Vicky’s—I mean, Victoria’s mom is forcing us to have her in the wedding. It’s why she’s only the personal attendant. She’ll be behind the scenes. No one will even know she’s there.”
That’s the second time I’ve heard that title, personal attendant. I’m not even sure what that means. I’ve got the urge to defend or, at least, speak out in defense of that woman, Matilda, but I don’t know why that is. I say nothing.
“Why the fuck are we talking about Mattie Conklin?” Adrian gives Anthony’s face a little pat. “You’re celebrating. You’re getting fucking married. We should head to a strip club.”
“No.” I shake my head and point at my baby brother. “Your fiancée will kill you.”
“Could be worth it.” Anthony wiggles his brows up and down like a creep.
“You’re on your own if you do. I’m not doing it.” Been there, done that.
“When did you become such an old fucker?” Adrian asks me, his face as serious as I’ve ever seen it. “You used to be fun.”
Did I? I don’t recall ever being fun. Growing up, I was always taking care of these assholes. Then I joined the army.
Maybe that’s what’s missing––some fucking fun in my life.
That is something to contemplate.
“I’m still not goin’ to a strip club, and neither areyou.” I point at Anthony. “I’ll never hear the end of it from Mom if you piss off the bride.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Anthony grumbles as he pulls his phone from his back pocket. “And on that note, gentlemen.” He drinks the last of his beer. “My bride is all done at the dress place. I’m heading out to meet her at another bar.” He arches his brow. “You guys want to go? The bridesmaids are with her.”
I start to shake my head, which Adrian must’ve seen because he points in my direction. “No. We never fucking see you. You’re going with us. It’s not a strip club…” He glances at Anthony, asking, “right?”
“Nope.”
“Great.” Adrian nods. “It’s not a strip club. It’s only ten thirty. Too early to call it a night. You’re coming with us, and that’s an order.”
I don’t take orders from my little brothers, but he has a point. “Fine.” I pour the remaining drops of my whiskey down my throat. “Let’s go.”
ChapterFour
Matilda
Initially,I wasn’t sure why I was invited to the dress fitting with the bride and her bridesmaids, but I know now. My role was to serve, and not just the bride.
At the dress place, I ran from dressing room to dressing room, doing the bidding of all the bridesmaids, the maid of honor, Chrissie, and Vicky. They asked for everything from “more champagne” to “go get the clerk. I need her immediately. They ordered the wrong size.” That’s code forthe dress is too tight.One thing of note, there was nary a thank-you from the bunch.
Did I expect a thank-you? No. I mean, look at who I’m dealing with here. To be fair, the other bridesmaids aren’t terrible. They’re all Vicky’s college friends from her sorority. Since I didn’t go to college, nor was I ever invited to visit Vicky at college, these ladies were strangers until yesterday. My favorite is Jenna. She seems to be the most grounded in reality. Then, I’d say in order from best to “I won’t speak to them after this is all over” goes like this: Jenna, Callie, Bridget, Kelsey, and, finally, Shelby.
Fast forward two hours, now I’m at this godforsaken dance club, and it’s more of the same. I’ve been up to the bar a half dozen times to order more drinks for the girls because, apparently, our waitress “isn’t doing her job.”
Sigh.
I feel terrible for our server. This crew is extremely high-maintenance, sending back drinks because they were too sweet or not sweet enough, along with a plethora of other complaints. Because of all of that and the fact this place is packed to the gills, our waitress has been scarce. Luckily, I told them I forgot my wallet (it’s in my car) or else I suspect I’d also be paying for their drinks. And at over twelve bucks a pop, my bank account can’t handle that kind of hit.
