Page 56 of Don't Call Me Daddy
I watch as Ricky and Janice stare at each other. Then, Ricky throws his shot back with a hiss. It’s the closest thing to a truceJanice is going to get, and I think she knows it, so she follows suit, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
I down mine and wince, then grab the mic. “Who’s up for a little karaoke?”
Ricky’s in the middle of a particularly sensual rendition of “I Want to Sex You Up,” and I look around the room, feeling a warm flutter of accomplishment. Everyone’s gathered around the small stage, and they’ve pushed all the tables against the walls, creating a dance floor in the middle of the restaurant.
Smiling faces fill the space as far as the eye can see, and the Wolf Pack and Smarty Pints are blended evenly now; you wouldn’t even know there was almost a brawl over X-Men trivia just an hour ago.
This is exactly how things should be. Leo would be pleasantly surprised if he saw everyone getting along so well, and I’m just glad a little quick thinking on my part and a few rounds of tequila shots were all it took to get everyone to bond and get along.
The spotlight shines on Ricky as he moves from the stage and makes a beeline straight to Janice. To my surprise, she doesn’t slap him or even flinch when he begins grinding himself on her. If anything, she looks … flushed?
That can’t be right. Janice hates Ricky …
She fans her face as she sways to the music, encouraging him to grind on her more.
I nearly fall over from shock when he grabs the back of her hair and pushes her to sit in a chair, but she looks like she likes it.
The crowd goes wild as he unbuttons the top half of his oxford shirt and loosens his belt, rolling his hips and gyrating to the music. The song “Bump n’ Grind” begins to play, and everyone claps their encouragement. I guess I’ll get to see Ricky’s leopard-print thong tonight after all.
I cup my hands over my mouth and let out a hoot when Janice grabs his tie and pulls him down, changing places with him.
Oh shit. I didn’t see that coming.
Janice spins away from him and lifts her dress to her knees, putting her ass right in his face, then folds forward and begins to twerk.
My jaw unhinges as everyone loses it, whooping and hollering and chanting her name, which only encourages her. She finishes her twerking, then spins around, kicks a leg in the air, and lands in the splits, and I nearly fall over from shock.
Ricky jumps up, offering her a hand, and to my utter shock, she accepts, letting him pull her back to her feet like it was all a part of the show.
The energy in this place is so high; it almost feels like we’re in a nightclub as I look around, seeing everyone dancing and vibing together.
Fern would have fucking loved this place. This town. These people. She’d have been joining in dancing and making memories with everyone, making the most out of every moment. I can’t help but see her here everywhere I look. I’m more and more convinced that she had a hand in bringing me here a month earlier than I planned. Of all places to crash my car, it just so happened to be here, where a billionaire CEO would need me to pretend to be his fiancée. It’s too ironic to be a coincidence.
When the last chorus of the song plays, Janice grabs a pitcher of water from a server walking by and dumps it down the frontof her dress. Her nipples harden beneath the material, and the fabric clings to her, leaving nothing left to the imagination.
The room falls quiet, and then someone yells, “Wet T-shirt contest!”
Suddenly, the crowd joins in, and they all chant together. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such an unlikely group of people share such passion and unity.
A few guys run to the drink stations, filling up pitchers of water and lining them along the bar as everyone forms a circle around the dance floor.
Someone shoves me to the center, and I look around, confused and excited all the same. That’s when I realize I’m standing in the circle of women—who are all easily thirty years my senior—as they shed their bras, slingshotting them overhead in every direction.
I think about Fern’s list and once again how these ridiculous scenarios keep falling in my lap. There’s no way the stars aligned this perfectly to set me up for this.
No, this is one hundred percent my sister’s doing.
I don’t know how or why it’s happening, but it’s like I can feel her near me, like she’s standing right here, cheering me on, wearing that knowing smirk of hers. Like she’s daring me to do it, to live in the moment while I still can.
Maybe it’s the warm buzz of alcohol flowing through my veins or the energy in the room of everyone being so in sync with each other, or maybe it’s a bit of both. Either way, there’s no denying there’s something magical about this town and the people in it. I’ve never felt more right about where I’m supposed to be in life. Like this moment in time was carved out just for me.
So, when I’m handed my own pitcher of water, I reach behind my back and flick off my own bra, sending it flying across the room, slapping Leo Kingsley right in his grumpy, scowling face.
“Wet T-shirts on three!” Janice screams.
Oh shit. He looks really mad.
“One.”
