Page 72 of Beloved Beauty

“As it should.” She clinks her glass against mine. “But trust me—you’ll never forget it.”

And I already know––whatever it is––I didn’t approve it, and Alex wouldn’t either.

The club is called Thunder Down Underneath, which already tells me everything I need to know—and nothing I was prepared for. The neon sign outside pulses like it’s daring us to be on our best behavior.

Spoiler alert: we are not.

Inside, the music is loud, the lighting moody, and it smells of cologne, alcohol, and coconut-scented body oil. There’s a stage with velvet curtains, chrome poles, and a mirrored ceiling I pretend not to notice.

I stop dead as soon as we walk in.

“No,” I say flatly. “Absolutely not. I’m marrying someone hotter than any of these men.”

“Ewww.” Leilani struts past me, ready for a night of fun. “Relax, Magnolia. As a bride, it is your God-given right to have a good time before you’re hitched to my brother for the rest of your life.”

A server ushers us to a VIP table close to the stage. The room is alive—music thumping, women screaming, drinks flowing.

The lights go down, and the curtain goes up.

Cue the music, the muscles, and the oiled-up, shirtless chaos.

Alex won’t be happy about this at all.

Leilani, Chloe, and Sefina go wild when they see all that skin.

The men are ridiculous—like something out of a calendar your mom would pretend not to own. Cowboy hats, firefighters’ pants, low-slung jeans holding on for dear life. They’re dancing with a confidence that suggests they’ve never heard the word no a day in their lives.

One of them peels off the stage, heading straight for our table. I stiffen as he approaches. Tall. Shirtless. Grinning. Zero shame.

“Oh no,” I say, eyes darting to Leilani. “Did you?—?”

She grins like a villain. “Already paid for.”

“I don’t want whatever he’s coming over here to give me.”

“Well, I’ll happily take it then,” she says, grabbing his hand before I can protest.

He doesn’t miss a beat—grinding on Leilani, all smooth hips and ridiculous confidence. Leilani eats it up.

I bury my face in my hands. “This is not how I thought my bachelorette party would go.”

Krishna leans in. “It’s better, right?”

I peek through my fingers. Leilani’s fanning herself with a drink menu while the man grinds against her. “I love her… but I fear her.”

The moment the first routine ends, the single girls take it as an open invitation to abandon all reason.

Leilani’s already on stage—yes, on the fucking stage—with a man in leather pants. Chloe is shimmying like her life depends on it, arms up, hair wild, eyes locked on a dancer with abs like a Greek statue.

Sefina, who needed three drinks just to look at the pole on the party bus, is now body-rolling like she’s been doing it since birth.

Malie would be appalled.

I blink. “Omigod. Is Chloe… kissing him?”

Julia leans forward. “Holy shit, she is. Mouth open and everything.”

Cheers erupt from the crowd as Chloe fist-pumps, looking far too proud of herself.

---