The men had moved to a second strip club, this one a little closer, but not close enough to suggest they were following them.
She considered sending a text asking if the ladies offered private lap dances, too. But thought that might push the fire a bit much if her brother managed to squeeze information out of Dante.
Instead, she put her phone back in her purse to save the battery.
Back in the club, the rodeo was in full swing and the women were tossing money on the stage as every item of clothing came off the cowboys.
Carmen pointed to the darkest cowboy in the club with a smile. “Now that’s who I want a lap dance from.”
For the next hour Carmen slipped to the back of the room, came back smiling. Salena found Rafael again and returned with what looked like a hickey on her neck.
And the bottle of vodka was getting dangerously low.
Salena, slurring her words, pointed a finger Chloe’s way. “You’re not leaving tonight without a lap dance.”
It wasn’t that she was opposed, it was that none of the men in the room really did it for her.
“You pick or I will,” her friend threatened.
Her head was swimming, and since she knew her friend would spend her money on Rafael, and that felt like a bad idea, Chloe pointed to a guy who had put on a kilt.
Who didn’t like a kilt?
“Outlander action. Okay!” Brooke laughed.
She was hammered.
Carmen had been feeding the bride water constantly, but Brooke was not feeling any pain.
None of them were, if Chloe was honest with herself.
Salena waved Outlander over and pointed a thumb toward the back.
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes. You’re not the one getting married next week,” Salena told her.
Left without an excuse, Chloe took the man’s hand and let him lead her to the back of the house, where other women were getting private lap dances. While it all looked innocent enough, there were a couple of women who weren’t giggling.
Which was exactly what Chloe started to do once the man suggested she sit down on a bench.
“Is this your first time?” he all but yelled in her ear. The music was so loud it was hard to hear your own voice.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
He smiled before he started.
Chloe wasn’t sure what to do, so she left her hands on the bench and looked to her right, where she saw the woman touching the dancer’s leg.
Yeah, she didn’t want to do that.
He was a good-looking man. Mr. Scotsman. A little older than some of the dancers in the club.
Leaning closer, his lips to her ear. “You’re nervous.”
“I’m drunk,” she said without humility. “This was my friend’s idea.”
The lady across from them lifted her leg, and someone from the club walked behind the dancer and tapped his shoulder.
Even with Chloe’s double vision, she noticed the dancer push the patron’s leg down.
“Oh, boy.”
“Try and relax,” Mr. Scotsman suggested.
Chloe took a deep breath, liked the look of the man’s bare chest in front of her. He had to work out a lot.
“You spend a lot of time at the gym,” she said.
He kept dancing, his body close and brushing against hers.
“Yeah. An hour and a half every day.”
“Every day?”
“Sundays off.”
Chloe smiled. Each time they spoke it was practically yelling.
“You must be exhausted.”
He leaned his head to the side, shimmied close, and put his ear to her lips.
“You must be exhausted. Workouts and then this all night long.”
He moved his body over hers like a snake yet didn’t touch. “I sleep in.”
I bet you do.
When their time was up, Chloe all but jumped from the bench, a little more sober than when she’d sat down and yet ready for another drink.
The stage show was over and some of the crowd was thinning.
Back at the table, Carmen was chatting with a woman from another party, Salena had made her way to the bar and was talking with dancers, and Brooke was MIA.
“Where is the main attraction?” she asked Carmen.
“Bathroom.”
As the party went on around them and a few more minutes passed, Chloe decided to check on the bride.
She found her standing in the bathroom, leaning against the wall. Her face was a little whiter than normal.
“Hey. Are you okay?”
Deadpan, she said, “I’m wasted.”
Chloe started to chuckle until they were both laughing.
“Are you feeling sick?”
Brooke squeezed her eyes shut, shook her head, then nodded.
“We should call it a night.”
“But you’re having such a good time.”
“This night is about you.” Chloe wasn’t about to tell her that visions of Dante did a good job of dimming the lights of every man on the stage that night. Even Mr. Bodybuilding Scotsman who tried hard but didn’t work for her.
“You sure?” Brooke looked as if she was letting her down.
“I’m fine.”
They walked back into the noise of the club, another act onstage.
Carmen sat up the second she saw them. “Everything okay?”
“She’s not feeling great.”
“It’s late. You wanna go?”
Brooke made a pouting face.
“It’s okay.”
“Where’s Salena?” Chloe asked.
Carmen pointed a thumb to the back. “Rafael lap dance number four.”
“Okay, no. I’m fine.” Brooke made a grand gesture of sitting down.
“Please. I don’t want to tell you how much of that bottle you drank tonight. Let’s get you back to the hotel.” Carmen picked up her purse and reached for Brooke’s.
“I’ll go get Salena.”
“No! She’s having a great time,” Brooke insisted.
Carmen stood. “Fine. We’ll divide and conquer. I’ll get you back to the hotel, you two follow behind,” she said to Chloe.
“We can do that.”
Carmen held on to Brooke as they made their way out of the club, Brooke’s step less than steady.
Which, as Chloe saw it, was as it should be on the woman’s last weekend of singlehood.
Left at the table alone, Chloe turned her attention to the show and cheered along with the other women in the club as the performers did their thing.
She finished her drink, considered another, then looked at her watch.
Where the hell was Salena?
Right about the time when Chloe was about to search for her, Salena stumbled back.
“Don’t judge me.”
Chloe couldn’t help but laugh.
“Carmen took Brooke back to the hotel.”
Salena’s eyes focused. “Is everything okay?”
“Too much vodka.”
“She was putting them back tonight.”
“You’re one to talk.”
Salena shook her head. “I’m more drunk on the scene. Rafael wants to take me back to his place.”
Chloe lost her smile.
“He’s a nice guy. In med school.”
“What?”
“Okay, nursing school, or whatever. This job pays the rent.”
“Salena . . .”