Page 53 of My Rules

Twenty-five of us girls are singing our hearts out and having the best night of all time to an ABBA tribute.

We are at the bachelorette party.

Next weekend, Juliet Drinkwater is getting married to Henley James, and it’s the most monumental and exciting thing in forever.

Juliet points into the audience as she sings along to “Dancing Queen.”

She’s totally lost in the moment, and we all laugh out loud. “She thinks she’s really in ABBA.”

“She’s better than ABBA.”

They pulled her onstage to sing the last song, and she’s absolutely crushing it.

“Are we still going out after this?” Chloe calls.

“I don’t know.” We both watch Juliet onstage, and as she sidesteps, she’s so tipsy that she nearly trips. “Maybe not.”

“I think we should get her home.”

“Yeah, me too.”

The song ends, and the crowd cheers. Juliet does an overexaggerated bow and blows kisses into the crowd as if she’s a rock star. Who are we kidding—tonight, she is.

I hold my hands up in the air and clap loudly. “Go, baby.”

“Goodbye,” Juliet calls from the cab window. “Thanks for the best night of my life.” It’s taken us forty minutes to bundle her into the cab. I think she said goodbye to every single person in the club.

“Hello, Mr. Driver,” she slurs from the back seat.

“Hello.” He smiles.

I’m sitting in the front, and Chloe is in the back with her.

“Did you know I’m getting married next week?” she tells him.

“The veil did give me a clue.” He smirks.

“Oh.” She smiles. “Did it?” She hiccups, and Chloe and I get the giggles. She would be mortified if she could see herself right now. Someone’s pink lipstick is smeared across her cheek, her hair is standing on end, and the short, cropped veil is all ruffled up and strongly resembles a bird’s nest.

Ding . . .

“Oh, I got a message,” she slurs. She digs through her bag and pulls out her phone and swipes across. “Oh, it’s Antony.” She narrows her eyes to concentrate on the screen. “I have lots of video messages from him.” She scrolls back and clicks on the screen and holds it up for us to watch too. There are at least fifty men in what appears to be a foyer of some sort, and they are all in position for a photo to be taken. The men in the front row are sitting; the ones in the next row are kneeling. And the guys behind them are cheering.

“Is that how many guys are away in Vegas with them?” I ask in horror.

“Yep,” she hiccups.

“When was this sent?” Chloe asks.

Juliet looks and frowns. “Two this afternoon. I must not have seen it.”

We watch as two guys strategically strap a ball and chain onto Henley’s ankle as all the boys cheer.

Juliet’s face screws up. “Do we even want to watch this?”

“Probably not.” I wince.

She clicks on the next video. “Chug, chug, chug,” chants the crowd. Henley, Blake, and Antony are onstage somewhere chugging beers. Blake finishes first and turns his glass upside down on top of his head as the crowd goes wild.

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