Page 18 of Rim Job

After we see Glory and Beck off, the girls and I head back in to the party. Evelyn, Jen, and I grab a table and watch everyone dance, just taking a minute to breath.

“One down, three to go, bitches. Which one of us do you think will be next?” Evelyn asks before she sips on her drink.

“You mean two down, two to go,” Jen blurts. “Shit. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.” Jen pats my arm.

Fuck.

“Hold up. What the hell don’t I know and why don’t I know it?” Evelyn gives us the death glare, waiting on one of us to spill the news.

“Crap. Okay. Look. I didn’t intend to tell anyone. Jen was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. That’s why she knows. I didn’t want to overshadow Glory’s day.” I take the last sip of my drink, trying to gather my courage. “Um, so it appears I got married last night, this morning. Whatever.”

Where the hell is the server with the champagne when you need it?

“What?” Evelyn shouts as she hops out of her chair. She drags it closer to me. “Tell me everything now! Spill it!”

Every embarrassing detail I can remember comes pouring from my lips, and by the time I’m finished, I feel another weight lifted off of my shoulders. Keeping a secret from my best friends is not something I ever want to do again.

“Wow. I expect this shit out of me, or hell, even Jen.”

“Hey! Not cool,” Jen retorts as Evelyn pats her arm before she continues.

“But Ti did something unplanned? I never thought I'd see the day.” Evelyn throws in an extra exaggerated, shocked look to her face.

I scowl. “I don't plan everything. I'm not that bad.”

Jen and Evelyn stare at me blankly before they burst into a fit of laughter.

“I hate you both.”

I'm not that bad, am I?

“Well, who is Rimmington Banks? What do we know about him?” Jen asks.

“I don’t know anything about him. He’s English. He’s my husband. He looks fantastic naked, and that’s basically it.”

I snag a flute of champagne as a server passes by.

“Oh, a foreigner. Why haven’t you searched him yet?” Evelyn asks.

“I haven’t had a chance.” I take a sip of my champagne, and we all drag our phones out to start internet stalking my husband.

10

RIMMINGTON

“Sir, she is sitting with her friends at a table near the bar.”

Marcos’ voice cuts through my phone as my eyes track around the room looking for my target.

“Got her. Thanks, Marcos. Your services are no longer needed for the night.”

“Very well, sir. Good evening, my lord.”

I end the call, place my phone inside the pocket of my sports coat, and make my way toward my wife. I approach, and her friend Jen sees me first and nudges Christina with her elbow, never taking her eyes off of me as she tucks her phone away. Christina swats at Jen’s nudges but doesn’t lift her head from her phone. I stand behind her, looking over her shoulder.

The other lady at the table—I believe Marcos said her name is Evelyn—laughs. “Ti, will you have to curtsy every time you walk into a room?” She looks up from her phone to Christina, who is still occupied by the search she’s performing on me. Evelyn’s eyes glide over Christina’s head and join Jen’s as they both stare at me, mouths agape.

“I can’t believe he is some sort of fucking royalty. Does this mean I’m obligated by royal decree to suck his dick if he tells me to?” Christina laughs to herself, and when her friends don’t join in, she looks at them.

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