“You sure?”
“Totally, I’ll be back soon.”
She made her way through the club and into the mercifully empty smokers’ area. Pulling out the single pack of cigarettes she’d allowed herself for the night, she lit up, staring at the glowing skyscraper windows that passed for stars in the CBD.
Though it might rage on for hours, the bachelorette party would eventually end, and when it did, she’d have nothing to focus on except her wedding. And she wanted, very much, not to focus on the wedding. A huge blowout party was something she could get behind. Seating arrangements, table decorations, flower girl bouquets, and six-course meals were a whole other matter. Patrick was making most of the decisions, but that was the problem?—
“Can I grab one of those?”
A tall guy in a hoodie appeared at Chery’s elbow and gestured at her cigarettes. She understood the ‘leave a penny, take a penny’ rules of social smoking and handed him the pack and lighter.
“Thanks,” the guy said. “Enjoying the show?”
“Yeah, I am. Do you work here?”
He laughed. “Is it that obvious?”
Yes, considering he was jacked and wearing more self-tanner than Cheryl had ever applied to her own body. Considering she’d graduated high school in 2009, that was saying something. “Lucky guess. You guys are doing a great job.”
“Trying, at least.” He gave her a shrew look. “Needed a break?”
“It’s all a bit much,” Cheryl admitted.
He laughed again. “I can understand that better than anyone. I’m Evan, by the way.”
He held out a hand, and Cheryl shook it. Evan’s friendly smile didn’t budge, but his peanut-butter-coloured fingers lingered on hers. “That’s a fantastic dress.”
Cheryl groaned inwardly, wishing Eden had picked out a slightly less slutty white negligee. This was why bachelorettes so often went to gay bars to drink and dance. But as she’d firmly told Eden—they weren’t pestering the gays on their home turf.
She shifted away from Evan, taking a deep drag on her cigarette so she could finish and get back to her friends. “Thanks, it’s kind of the bride-to-be uniform.”
“You’re way too young to be getting married.”
She kept herself from rolling her eyes with difficulty. “Nope. I’m looking forward to it. My fiancé’s amazing.”
“A lot of girls settle down too fast. I see it all the time working here.”
“I bet,” Cheryl said, grinding out her unfinished cigarette. “Well, I’m gonna head back in?—”
Evan turned to the left, partially blocking her path to the door. “Stay and chat for a bit. It’s your last night out before you tie the knot, yeah?”
Cheryl desperately tried to think of a polite way to tell him to fuck off. She could say Patrick was six-four and the captain of a professional football team, but that would probably only make Evan keener. Guys loved the idea of fucking a footballer’s wife behind his back. Then, mercifully, the door to the smokers’ area burst open and out stumbled Sal Thomas, Byron’s younger sister, in a black pleather bodysuit. They were carrying a plastic pirate sword and looked high as actual balls.
Spotting Cheryl, they let out a whoop worthy of Eden. “Greetings, bachelerino! How’s it doing?”
“Good—”
“We’re actually tryna have a quiet chat,” Evan interrupted. “Maybe you could head back to the show if that’s cool?”
“It’s not cool,” Cheryl snapped, officially over it. “I can talk to whoever I want.”
Evan turned to her, all shock and apologetic. “Sorry, I’m just trying to help. I thought you wanted a bit of a break.”
“I do want a break. But I want to talk to Sal…”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Evan laid a light hand on her shoulder. “Let’s go to the bar and have a drink.”
Cheryl took a step backward. “Don’t touch me!”
