It takes a special amount of alcohol to make three grown men not even realize they were missing the fourth member of their group.
Winnie: Let me guess…Ty started with the damn tequila shots, and Jude succumbed quickly to the peer pressure.
I might not know the exact details of last night’s debauchery, but after forty-one years on this earth studying these morons, I have a pretty good idea.
Me: Something like that.
Winnie: I’m thankful at least one of my brothers is sane. Taciturn, but sane.
I shrug to myself. What can I say? I am who I am. Still, I wonder what Winnie would think of her one sane brother if she knew all the things about me I don’t tell her.
Winnie: Oh well. I’m just glad it’s your job to deal with them on the flight back home and not mine. I’ve never been good with barf bags. Love you, Flynn!
I shake my head on a soft smile.
Me: Love you too, smartass.
“You texting with that hot blonde from last night?”
I lift my eyes away from the screen of my phone to find Ty looking at me from the large leather sofa in the center of the living room. Jude sits beside him with his head resting back against the big plush pillows and his eyes sealed shut.
With dark circles under both of their eyes and stiff jaws punctuating their faces, it appears my prediction was correct.
Looks like the hangover gang is officially all here.
“What was her name, by the way?” Ty asks.
“Who?”
“The hot blonde who wanted to fuck you,” he comments on an annoyed sigh. “You know, the woman in the tight red dress at that karaoke bar off the Strip.”
Jude quirks one eye open to look at Ty. “We went to a karaoke bar last night??”
Ty’s face morphs from discomfort to hilarity, and a raspy chuckle jumps from his lungs.
Though, it takes Remy to actually answer Jude’s question. “Yeah, bro. And it was your stupid fucking request.”
Jude glances at all three of us in bewilderment.
“You do one hell of a Journey rendition, my man,” Ty chimes in and nudges Jude’s shoulder with his fist. “And apparently, Flynn needs to get his eyesight checked because he can’t remember when a woman who looks like Farrah Fawcett back in the day is flashing fuck-me eyes at him.”
I don’t know how to break it to these motherfuckers that I wasn’t even there for the red dress-sporting Farrah Fawcett, but I’m thinking the best option is to not. It’ll be a hell of a lot more fun this way.
“She wasn’t even the hottest woman we saw yesterday,” Remy responds, and Ty’s face scrunches up in blatant disagreement.
“My ass, she wasn’t the hottest woman in Vegas. Who the hell do you think topped her?”
“Didn’t you give some woman in the casino a five-hundred-dollar chip, Casanova? Are you telling me you did that shit for nothing?”
Awareness heightened at the mention of Daisy, I instantly shift myself onto the arm of the couch to study their conversation more closely.
“What? I didn’t give anyone shit. Did I?” Ty asks, humorously horrified at his own lack of memory.
“I thought you were going to pull a Jude and marry her in Vegas, dude,” Remy remarks. My chest involuntarily squeezes at how close to on track he is with the wrong brother. Except for the love thing, of course. Flynn Winslow doesn’t fall in love.
“Technically, I didn’t find love in Vegas, bro,” Jude adds. “I met the love of my life in New York, while she was pretending to be the bride-to-be at a bachelorette party and I was pretending to be an exotic dancer and giving her a sexy lap dance.”
Remy just stares at him. “You realize that sounds insane, right?”
Jude just smirks. “Oh, I’m aware.”
“Enough about Jude.” Ty butts into the conversation. “What’s on the agenda today? A little pool time before we have to get on the plane to go back home?”
“Enough about Jude?” Jude retorts. “This is my bachelor party, you fuck.”
“Don’t know about the pool time. It’s already after eleven,” Remy answers, ignoring Jude completely.
“What?” Ty shouts, outraged at time’s perpetual motion. “The fuck you say it’s after eleven.”
While my two youngest brothers bicker over their need to be attention whores, I use that perfectly timed distraction to slide my phone into my back pocket, set my empty coffee cup into the sink, and grab my keys and wallet and already packed duffel.
“Hey, where are you going?” Remy calls as I open the door to the suite. “We have to pack all our shit and get ready to go.”