Page 72 of Only for the Week
I huff out a humorless laugh. That’s what she took from everything I said? The optics of losing a member of her bridal party? She’s delusional.
“Now’s your chance to make Dani the maid of honor like you wanted, remember?”
“You’re really gonna change your flight and leave?”
“Oh no, I’m not leaving. I’m gonna enjoy the last few days of my vacation, free from your bullshit. But you will not see me at that God damn wedding.” I don’t give a fuck that she and Arnold paid for everything. I won’t even offer to pay them back for it. It’s the least they can do for my pain and suffering. “I hope you two are very fucking happy together.”
I snatch the door to the restroom open, running right into Dani. “Where the hell have you two been?! You don’t have your phones?”
“Mine’s in my pocket, why?”
“We have to go.” Her voice is frantic. I immediately go on alert, preparing to hear terrible news.
“What happened?”
“Rome and the guys got into a bar fight!”
Chapter Twelve
Rome
A few hours earlier
Itake a sip of my drink, the amber liquid going down smoothly. I survey the room with narrowed eyes, irritation prickling at my skin.
We’ve been at this bar for hours and I’ve been over it since hour one. Arnold showed up drunk as fuck, apparently having spent his day pre-gaming. He showed up with a bruise on his cheek and when I asked him what happened he said he slapped himself, trying to sober up, but forgot he had his ring on and cut himself.
Dumb as hell, but okay.
He’s been rambling in circles about being a fuck-up and needing to beg for something. Micah, Christian, and I tried to convince him to skip tonight since he clearly wasn’t in a headspace where he could enjoy the night but he wouldn’t hear it. I’m sure he’s going to end up throwing up everywhere and we’re going to have to hear Amerie’s mouth about letting him get like this.
Every time I hand him some water to sober him up, Cortez sidles up to him to give him more liquor. To top it off, Cortez has some friends here that aren’t invited to the wedding. When we loaded up into the bus to bring us to the bar, he arrived with a group of five other guys. He claimed that they happened to be on vacation in Tulum as well. I call bullshit on that, but it’s not my coin nor Arnold’s he’s spending so I’m letting it slide, but I’m keeping a watchful eye.
Arnold sits on the couch across from me, rubbing his hand back and forth across his low-cut Caesar with a dazed expression. We’re here with close to twenty of his friends, colleagues, and clients. Everyone has been trying to celebrate him, but his demeanor has left them with no option but to give him a wide berth.
Cortez and his boys walk over to the couches and Cortez holds out a rum and coke for Arnold.
“Here you go, cuz. I got you a re-up.”
“Yo, he’s had enough,” I state, no room for argument in my tone.
Cortez scrutinizes me from head to toe. “You his daddy or something? You don’t look like my uncle Marquise, but I don’t know. Maybe y’all switched bodies or some shit.”
His boys co-sign his dumbass with a collective cackle.
“He’s damn near incoherent. He needs to sober up.”
“Says who?”
I lean forward, folding my arms between my legs. “Says me.”
He puffs his chest out in a show of strength, but I clock the gulp of air he swallows. His friends constrict their eyes at me looking between us, waiting for their boy to put me in my place. Little do they know their fearless leader is nothing more than a punk ass bitch.
Jalen, Christian, Micah, Troy, and one of Arnold’s clients, pro football player Nick Graves, flank me on the couch. They don’t say anything, but their presence is enough to let Cortez’s boys know they’d be foolish to make a move.
Cortez coughs into his elbow. “Whatever, man. This is supposed to be a bachelor party. We’re here to turn the fuck up. Y’all like to be lame as fuck, I see.”
Arnold groans, reminding everyone that he was the original reason behind this tension. “I’m good, y’all.” His eyes close as he says something else that no one can hear or understand.
