The stage lights flash pink, then blue, then something that looks like melted gold as dancers twist around the pole, hair swinging, heelsglinting. The air is thick with perfume, whiskey, heat, and sweat. Music pounds through me, loud enough to drown out my worries but not my thoughts. The damn ghost of Valentina refuses to stop stalking the back of my mind. Every stripper that comes over, I compare to her.
Our cousins have taken over the VIP booth like they're kings of Chicago.
A redhead with long legs and a wicked smile straddles L.J.'s lap. Kian's buried beneath a brunette who keeps whispering things that make him cackle like an idiot. Two blondes fight for Romeo's attention, and he's loving every second of it.
For the first time in a long time, nothing feels wrong. Everything feels simple. It's almost as if life hasn't twisted into something I can't control.
Sean sits beside me, split between boredom and irritation. Every dancer who gets near him gets waved off immediately.
"Not a fun bachelor," one mutters, sashaying away.
I shake my head. "You could at least fake enthusiasm."
"I'm happily married," he claims.
"Not that I got to stand by you on your big day," I remind him, still bitter that he got married without me being his best man.
He winces. "I've said sorry a thousand times."
"Yeah, so I've heard." I finish my whiskey, and another one magically appears.
Hours blur together with more dancers, shots, and my cousin's giddiness over everything the strip club has to offer. The months of knotted tension in my stomach slowly unwinds.
An Irish-accented voice booms, "Looks like you're passing the test, lad."
All the hairs on my arms stand on end. I turn, my pulse rising.
Byrne drops into the seat beside Sean like he's been here the whole time. His red beard catches the stage lights, making him look like some aged Celtic god who walked out of a battlefield. He clinks his whiskey glass against the table. "Looks like your boys are celebrating something."
I force a nod. "Aye. Except Sean isn't having any fun."
Sean throws me a glare. "I'm already married."
I glance at the cousins. None of them even notices Byrne's arrival. They're lost in women, drinks, and bad decisions.
Sean asks, "What tests are you talking about?"
Byrne takes a long drink, then leans forward. "Loyalty to your wife."
Sean stiffens beside me. "I'm always loyal to her. And I always will be."
Byrne nods slowly. "That's right. So you pass the test."
Sean scowls at me and accuses, "You set me up."
I raise both hands, palms out. "Sorry, mate. He made me."
"Brax," Byrne says, turning toward me like he's about to hand out divine judgment, "go get a private dance."
I blink. "Now?"
"Yeah, now."
I stand, smirking. "Excuse me, ladies. I need to share the love."
They whine, pouting as I gently move them aside.
I glance around and find two dancers with long legs, big smiles, and glittering eyes. I curl a finger at them, and they bounce over, linking arms with me before leading me toward one of the private rooms where the music is softer and the lights are dimmer.
