Page 3 of Cherish

JASON

“Hello, darlin’,” I yell to the pretty woman walking past our table. “Save me a dance, beautiful.” I exaggerate my fake southern drawl even more, and despite the girl’s dark skin, I can see her blush. Her girlfriend, after taking a look at our testosterone filled table, giggles. They take a step closer to us, and I move my chair to make room.

“Join us, ladies.” I reach behind me and grab an extra chair. Luke, my best friend’s little brother, grins and grabs another chair. In no time at all, we are joined by two beautiful women.

“Don’t mind these old men.” I point at my best friend, his father, his older brother, Troy, his father’s first cousin, Eugene, and soon to be brother-in-law, Chris. “They’re married. And this one,” I say, pointing at Jake, “is getting married. We’re here for his bachelor party. Forget them. Come and meet my single friend Lucas.” The girls introduce themselves, and I order more drinks.

Jacob, my best friend since our freshman year at Boston College, gives me a warning look, but I flash him my best smile. His father, Joshua Clark, chuckles at me and raises his glass of bourbon to our new friends, whose names I’ve already forgotten. Eugene smiles politely at the women but turns to Joshua and continues their conversation.

“You and Luke are trying to get me killed,” Chris says, standing up. “You forget who I’m married to. You guys will never find my body. If I get drunk enough, maybe I can make a case of plausible deniability. Troy,” he says, pointing to Jake’s older brother, “let’s go get drunk. I know you never get out. And let’s find Steve while we’re at it.” Troy jumps out of his seat and after stumbling, giggles like a schoolgirl. The rest of the table looks around and we burst into laughter.

“This is why we’re single and we’re going to stay that way, JD!” Luke announces. He throws an arm around the girl next to him. “My brothers, Dad, and Chris are all being led by their balls by a bunch of women. Never us.” I reach across the table to fist bump Luke, but Jake intercepts the fist bump and pushes my fist away.

“Jacob, you’re just mad because we took your phone away,” I yell a bit too loudly. I pick up my own bourbon and polish it off in one gulp. “You want to call Princess?” I taunt my best friend.

Just then, Troy and Chris come back with an entire bottle of bourbon. I pour everyone another drink and we all toast to Jake, who’s getting married in a month.

I’m so happy for my friend and his fiancée, I reach across the table and rustle his hair. When he tries to punch my arm away, I take him in a bear hug, nearly knocking him off his seat. He pushes me off, and I stumble. His father cackles and orders me to sit my drunk ass down.

“Wanna dance, darlin’?” My fake southern accent sounds extreme even in my own ears. The girl smiles seductively at me.

“Young Clark,” I say to Luke, “grab her friend. Let’s show these old married guys how it’s done.”

And the night unfolds.

While Luke and I dance with any available female, our married cohorts proceed to drink themselves silly. We stumble out of the club a few hours later. Joshua and Eugene call it a night and grab a cab back to the house we rented. Jake wants to leave too, but we drag him into another club and pour more liquor down his throat.

I see a pretty girl, and before long, she’s sitting on my lap as we tell her stories about Jake and his fiancée, Sandy.

We drink, Luke and I dance. Not with each other, but with any female. I’m propositioned by multiple females, but this weekend is about celebrating my friend, not some random hookup.

“Strippers!” Luke yells about an hour later. “What happens in Miami, stays in Miami.” I let out a shout of agreement, but the rest of the table shakes their head.

“Come on, Troy. You never have fun. You can just look,” Luke says, so drunk that his face has turned red. “We know Chris and Jake are too scared of their women to go.”

“What the hell do we need strippers for?” Chris says as he sips his drink.

“Sandy did this striptease for me the night before we left. To this song.” Jake points at the ceiling. Chris, who is married to Sandy’s sister, sticks fingers in both ears and starts to shake his head. I look at Luke, who bursts out laughing.

“I’m going to need therapy before this weekend is over,” Chris declares. Chris has been married to Tash, Sandy’s sister for years and sees Sandy as his little sister. Any discussion involving Sandy and sex automatically traumatizes him.

“Liquid therapy,” Troy yells.

Two hours and three clubs later, we stumble out, drunk and sweaty. I don’t know how, but someone managed to call an Uber to take us back to the house.

“Fuck,” I say, looking around the messy room, irritated by the sound of my roommate’s loud phone alarm. “What the hell? Shut that shit off!” I grab one of the pillows and hurl it across the room. It lands on Jake’s head, who doesn’t so much as flinch as the phone continues to beep and vibrate across the lamp table.

Irritated, I yank off the covers and stomp across the room.

“Asshole!” I reach down and shake his shoulders. “Turn that shit off before I break it.”

He groans and rolls over, covering his face with a pillow. He reaches over, still dressed in the clothes he wore to the clubs last night and grabs his phone, finally silencing it.

“Sorry, man.” He groans. “Sandy likes to get up early on Sundays so we can work out before breakfast.”

I grunt at him and crawl back into my bed. “Why the hell are you in my room? We gave you the master suite.”

He mumbles something unintelligible, rolls over and falls asleep almost instantly. I try to follow his lead, but I’ve always lacked his ability to fall asleep quickly. It was like this throughout college where we either shared a room or shared the townhouse his parents own close to campus. He’s been my best friend, my brother since we were eighteen-year-old college freshmen.

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