Page 1 of 7 Miles High
Chapter 1
Parker
I can’t see his face, but I don’t need to. A full five minutes have passed since he laid his head against the polished wood bar and went silent. Body language says it all. I hate seeing my brother like this. But if it was me out a job, fifty thousand dollars, and a fiancé all in one day, I’d be in a funk too. Deciding to dump bridezilla six weeks before the big day was a bold move. In my opinion though, the best decision of his life. Every sane person would agree.
Now, the bachelor party is a kind of consolation prize for what he had to go through. That’s how we sold him on the idea. The tickets and rooms were booked, the time was scheduled from work. Why cancel the best part of the wedding plans?
“James. Have a shot of tequila. It’ll make you feel better,” I say, laying a hand on his back. For emphasis I add a pat.
“It’s ten in the morning,” he mumbles.
“What’s your point?”
A half-hearted grunt’s the only response.
Hopefully the airport bar will improve his state of mind. We may be a wedding party in name only now, but all three of us take our groomsmen job seriously. A bad bachelor party would suck balls.
Before we got here, a unanimous decision was reached. This weekend we’ll numb him with alcohol and steer him toward sex with uninhibited women he’ll never see again. The aim is for a vigorous drinking and blow job schedule. Tequila and tits should distract him, otherwise nothing will. And if we’re recipients of the overflow, so be it. I’m willing to make the sacrifice.
James is going through stages of a sudden breakup that’s not so different from grief. Stage one was a sense of horror at what he had to do, followed by self-loathing at how stupid he was to pick her in the first place. Hopefully he’ll soon feel relief that the next sixty years won’t completely bore him to death.
“Fuck the bitch!” Matt calls, raising his shot glass.
“I don’t think the people at the next gate heard that,” James says without lifting his head.
Luckily the bar is short on customers. Just us and the old man slumped on the furthest barstool. He doesn’t give a shit what any of us are saying. Looks like the bourbon he’s clutching is his only concern.
“The reverend here called her a thunder cunt,” Matt jokes, pitching a thumb in Elliott’s direction.
“No I didn’t! And please stop calling me that!” he whisper yells.
That makes us laugh. Even James, who comes up for air.
Now that he’s got a reaction, Matt needs no other encouragement to keep talking.
“Okay, now that I think of it, I may have been the one who said it. Sorry, bro.”
“Thank you,” says Elliott. But it’s the deep sigh that talks loudest.
We haven’t even left the ground yet and the poor guy is regretting his decision to join us. I’m almost certain he wasn’t expecting this. It probably sounded like a great idea when he was back in Arizona taking care of his flock’s spiritual needs.
Only getting a short break from having to behave every fucking minute sounds like hell to me. But he must like it. Even as a kid he was the neighborhood good guy. All the parents liked him. His compassion will be tested this weekend. He’s going up against Matt’s idea of humor.
“Not sure what you saw in her, bro. Besides the beautiful face and great tits.”
“There was the ass. Don’t forget that,” I add.
“What exactly happened? I never heard the full story,” Elliott says.
I shake my head, discouraging him from asking. I’ll fill him in later.
But Matt has more to say. “It was too fucking fast. Next time you want to ask a woman to marry you, James, make sure you know her for longer than a month. And don’t work for her father’s business.”
James shuts down further conversation. “Why are we still talking about her? It’s over. I need a drink. A real one.”
As he signals to the bartender, I look out the window and see an approaching mirage with dimples. I know what I need to do.
“Blonde. Dibs!” My voice is loud enough for all three to hear.
