Page 2 of Resolutions

“What the actual fuck is this?” Debbie, my future sister-in-law, asked from behind me as she and Connie moved to stand beside me.

“Mel, did you know about this?” Connie asked, her voice tight with annoyance.

“You're kidding, right?”

“Whose brilliant idea is this?” Connie yelled to be heard over the pulsing music.

“You know exactly who's behind this,” Debbie answered, disgust dripping from her voice.

“That jackass—I should have known,” Connie said, sounding more repulsed by Michael than the strippers. “These girls do know it's December, right? Bless their cold little hearts. I hope he's paying them well.”

Debbie snorted a laugh, making me smile despite my irritation. “The cold makes their nipples hard—bigger nipples, happier men,” she stated matter-of-factly. Connie and I turned to stare at her, shocked. “Happier men means bigger tips.”

“What? I watch TV,” Debbie screamed over the now-grating music.

“Obviously, we watch way different channels,” Connie yelled back.

Shaking my head, I watched dancer after dancer approach my fiancé, rubbing various body parts all over him before moving on to do the same to others. Carson, Cameron's older brother married to Connie, stepped behind us to avoid a dancer eyeing him. Connie took a half-step forward, hands on hips. Debbie and I filled in behind her, matching her stance. The dancer got the message and turned to seek another target.

“Leave it to Michael to make today all about him,” Carson said, his voice carrying over the music. “This whole scene reeks of him—totally inappropriate.”

“What do you expect? Inappropriate is his middle name,” Colton, Cameron's other brother, added as he slid behind his wife Debbie, using us as a shield against the gyrating girls.

Connie turned, calling over her shoulder. “You two really should rescue your brother. He looks miserable.” All of us turned to see Cameron surrounded by glistening oiled flesh, his discomfort evident in every rigid line of his body.

“No way! This is an every man for himself situation,” Colton answered. “Besides, one of them might touch me. Eww.”

“Let one of them try,” Debbie yelled toward the still-dancing women. Colton put his arms around her middle protectively.

“You get 'em, honey.”

I loved my new family. Never having siblings of my own, I cherished each of Cameron's family members as my own. The other two sisters-in-law had become the sisters I'd never had, and right now I was grateful they were here, so I wasn't experiencing this monstrosity alone.

The music changed, drawing our attention back to the bus. The dancers formed two lines, coming together with a two-foot gap between them. Throwing their hands in the air, they started movements resembling belly dancers wiggling in sync.

“You have to give them credit—they must have practiced a lot,” Carson said, earning a gut punch from Connie. “What? I didn't say I liked it, just that they've got the routine down.”

“Dude, quit while you're ahead,” Colton suggested.

The music shifted again, this time to a cadence drum beat. The ladies pivoted, putting their thong-clad asses toward each other, and began gyrating to the beat. They looked like some erotic dance troupe—definitely not the Rockettes.

When the music reached its crescendo, Michael appeared on the last stair of the bus wearing a gold lamé suit that caught the streetlights like liquid metal. He stepped forward, smacking asses and rubbing himself against the girls, making exaggerated humping movements as he made his way through them. Reaching the last two dancers, he threw his hands in the air, an enormous smile on his face as the women scurried to spell Cameron behind him.

At five-foot-nine, Michael was shorter than Cameron and his brothers, but what he lacked in height he made up for in presence. At first glance, you'd think “computer geek,” which he was—but he was also a gym rat, much stronger than he looked. Cameron had told me Michael became obsessed with karate in high school, earning his black belt before graduation. He'd gone to Japan and studied under a master, then returned to train in other martial arts. According to Cameron, that obsession still thrived. He'd said he pitied anyone who might fight Michael—his knowledge and moves made him a dangerous weapon.

Black hair slicked back mobster-style, wire-rimmed glasses, and a jutting chin combined with an ego bigger than Madison Square Garden. His most attractive feature was his enormous bank account. Michael wasn't just smart—he was a borderline genius with a depraved sense of humor and a Midas touch. Making money came as easily to him as breathing, and it seemed just as important as his martial arts, maybe even more. Currently, Mr. Ego was gyrating between two dancers as “Baby Got Back” echoed off the neighborhood houses.

I could imagine the thoughts running through my guests' minds. I'd seen the eye rolls of disgust and the whispers shared behind raised hands. A couple of ladies had already retreated inside—an idea I was seriously entertaining.

Glancing around, I noticed several neighbors watching from open garages or bay windows. Cameron had just bought thishouse; this was our first big gathering. All the neighbors had been nice and appreciative when we'd given them heads up about today's event. Several had even thanked us for letting them know. Whispering Pines was a small town where everyone knew everyone else, especially the Whitaker family. There was no doubt our neighbors were wondering why we hadn't mentioned the bus, concert-level music, and erotic dance troupe. I could already imagine the cell phones lighting up with calls and texts, pictures flying around town. What an epic way to welcome ourselves to the quiet, serene neighborhood.

Connie faced me, her expression thunderous. “I've had enough. How about you all?”

“I'm not giving him the satisfaction of leaving,” I answered, arms crossed, eyes fixed on the garish display. “He'd consider it a victory if he could say he got under my skin.”

“Melanie's right,” Debbie announced, planting her feet and crossing her arms, too. “We stay.”

“Fine. But only for you two ladies will I endure any more of this nonsense.” Connie mimicked our stance, planting a determined frown on her face.

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