At Your Beck & Call

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  It was signed, ‘Darren O’Connell—best man by name, best man by nature’.

  Shoot me now.

  I knew for a fact that Carl would have preferred dinner at Taco Bell, drinks at Chico’s pool hall, a strip club, and a late night visit to Wurstküche for rattlesnake sausages and German beer on tap.

  I couldn’t resist texting Carl.

  ** Who’s the stiff? **

  He replied immediately.

  ** Soon to be brother-in-law **

  He was so fucked.

  Then he sent me another message.

  ** Who’s your plus one?! **

  I didn’t reply. Nosy bastard. I bet Tessa told him to ask that.

  As I didn’t want to piss on Carl’s parade, I got suited and booted for the racetrack, but left off the tie as that had been deemed optional. What a prick.

  When the taxi dropped me off and I walked into the Club House, it wasn’t hard to spot Carl’s bachelor party: eighteen subdued guys and one obnoxious loudmouth who was sounding off about how the Sierra Vista Terrace would keep us close to the racing action, and that most people had to book the room two months in advance, but that he knew someone who knew someone.

  Carl looked relieved when he saw me.

  “Thank fuck you’re here, man,” he muttered, as we shook hands and I slapped him on the back.

  “Yeah, now the party can really get started,” I said, looking around the quiet restaurant.

  Carl grimaced and took a sip from the champagne he was holding.

  “What the fuck are you drinking? You hate champagne!”

  “Yeah, but Darren arranged this.”

  “Fuck that! You want whiskey?”

  “Well…”

  “Hell, Carl! It’s your damn bachelor party. Drink what the fuck you like. Look, I’ll order it and then he can be pissed at me—it’s not like I’m going to win any popularity contest with him anyway.”

  He smiled wryly.

  “I guess not.” Then he frowned. “The guy’s a real asswipe, okay … but he’s Tessa’s brother, so…”

  “Yeah, I get the message. Don’t worry. I won’t fuck with him.” Much.

  I leaned on the bar to check out the whiskeys.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “I need a bottle of Macallan Amber, one Bowmore, one Glenfiddich and 20 shot glasses.”

  I laid out my Amex, and left the surprised bartender to sort out the order.

  Carl couldn’t hide his grin as I strolled over, followed by the waiter carrying three bottles and the glasses.

  “Oh, man! We’re gonna be trashed before the racing starts! Guys, this is Hallen, my roommate from college, drinking buddy and pool partner.”

  I hadn’t met any of Carl’s friends before and it made me realize how separate our lives had become. I knew that was only going to accelerate now that he was marrying into a family who despised me. A few years down the line it wouldn’t be any more than a card at Christmas.

  If nothing else, I was going to do my best to make this a night he’d remember.

  The others all smiled or raised their glasses in an ironic cheer, but Darren threw me a dirty look—and that was before he saw the waiter with the drinks.

  “We’re drinking champagne!” he snapped.

  “Congratulations,” I said easily, reaching for the Macallan.

  I poured one for myself and one for Carl.

  “Delad glädje är dubbel glädje.” Shared joy is twice the joy.

  Carl laughed and we clinked glasses.

  “I don’t know what you said, buddy, but Skål!”

  I winked and passed around the rest of the glasses. Only one person declined—yeah, dickhead Darren.

  I bet that he wouldn’t be able to last the whole evening without trying to start something. I’d promised Carl not to fuck with him—I wasn’t doing great so far. I shrugged mentally and pulled up a chair at the furthest end of the table from Darren. I got lucky because Al and Rico were a couple of cool guys who worked in the hotel business with Carl.

  They told me stories about the crazy things that happened in a five star hotel, including the bizarre and downright scary requests that were made.

  “You wouldn’t believe the number of guests who ask us to get them hookers,” laughed Rico.

  “I bet he would,” Darren called out, loudly.

  Several people turned to stare at him, then at me. I just smiled, and let people draw their own conclusions, knowing they’d be the wrong ones.

  Carl looked irritated, then started telling the story of our days as ‘porn stars’—his words. I withheld a wince but let him tell his version, which really wasn’t much at all, and nothing near the whole truth.

  The other guys laughed but Darren muttered something derogatory.

  Rico nudged me and said quietly, “Have you met that dude before?”

  “Nope, but I dated his wife before he met her.”

  I raised my eyebrows, and Rico laughed. “That explains a few things.”

  I nodded my agreement and threw back another malt whiskey.

  Carl sidled up to me, ostensibly to fill his whiskey glass.

  “So,” Carl said, “Tessa wants to know who your plus one is.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You mean she’s worried I’m mixing work and pleasure.”

  Carl laughed uncomfortably. “Something like that.”

  “No, man. I met someone.”

  He gaped at me. “What, like a woman?”

  “Yeah, you dick! Her name’s Laura. You’ll like her.”

  “Wow. Hallen Jansen actually dating. Ah fuck! The world’s gonna end before I get to have sex with my new wife.” He narrowed his eyes. “Is she hot?”

  I winked at him.

  “Hell, yeah.”

  The noise level was beginning to rise and it was good to see Carl laughing and enjoying himself. He was still an asshole and we had fuck all in common—but he was my friend, and I trusted him.

  The meal wasn’t bad, although more formal than Carl would have liked. Darren started getting stressed that we were running late for the next stage, and looked like he was about to stroke out when Al suggested we skip the Hemmingway bar and head straight for the pole dancing club. Darren tried to insist but got out-voted.

  A couple of the guys snagged the bottles that still held whiskey, and we headed off in a convoy of cabs, stumbling out onto Hollywood Boulevard just as the sun was setting.

  “I’ll take care of the cover charge,” Darren announced, loudly.

  “There isn’t one,” I said quietly, as I walked behind him.

  His face turned red and he shoved his wallet away, elbowing past me and into the bar. I began to feel sorry for Paige being married to such a hoser.

  “What’s his problem?” muttered one of the other guys.

  “Hallen fucked his wife,” grinned Rico.

  “Awesome, man!”

  I didn’t bother to explain that it was before Darren had met Paige, but you know, whatever—the dickhead deserved it.

  We gave Carl a few minutes to walk up and down the sidewalk until he looked sober enough to be allowed into the club, then headed inside.

  Darren had made himself useful for once, and scored us a table near the curved stage. An irritated waitress was trying to take the drinks order from our increasingly rowdy party. I wandered over to the bar and smiled at the beautiful, blonde bartender.

  “What can I get you, handsome?” she asked.

  “Oh, that’s okay, thanks, our waitress is taking care of that. But could you tell me who I talk to about booking some lap dances?”

  “That’s no problem—just tell the girl you like. Thirty bucks for one song—fifty for two.”

  “How many girls dance each night?”

  “I think there are 11 on tonight. Oh no, wait—Trish called in sick. So, ten.”

  “I’d like to book a dance from each of them, if that’s possible.”

  “Oh, it’s possible all right, handsome. Let me go talk to someone.�
�

  The room was warm and lit with a soft, red light. I shrugged off my jacket and looked around. The walls were decorated with ugly, old fashioned clowns as well as Hollywood memorabilia, making the atmosphere intimate in a sleazy kind of a way. It definitely suited Darren.

  An attractive, but heavily made-up woman in her thirties made her way toward me. Her glossy black hair was cut in an asymmetric style but it was the red bustier groaning under the weight of her stunning breasts that caught and held my attention, before I managed to drag my eyes upward.

  She smiled knowingly and I grinned back. There was no point pretending I hadn’t been looking.

  “Hi, I’m Nancy. I understand you’d like to book a dance from each of the girls?”

  “Yes, for my friend.”

  “Not for you?”

  “No, not tonight.”

  “Sure I can’t persuade you?” she smiled, running one finger down my arm.

  “I don’t think it would take much to persuade me,” I admitted, “but I’m here for my buddy—it’s his bachelor party.”

  She laughed lightly. “I heard there was a buy-ten-get-one-free tonight—if you change your mind.”

  I pretended to groan and shake my head. “You’re a bad influence, Nancy.”

  “I know,” she smirked. “Want me to lead you astray?”

  “Can I take a rain check?”

  She pouted. “You afraid someone will tell your wife?”

  “I’m not married, but I do have a girlfriend that I’m really into. Shit, that sounds lame!”

  She smiled. “No, I think it sounds cute. She’s a lucky lady.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Cute? Yeah, not something I aspire to. So, Nancy, could you arrange the dances for me? My friend is…” I glanced over toward Carl and winced. “Um, he’s the one wearing the novelty cowboy hat.”

  I shook my head. Carl looked like Steve Martin in Parenthood. I guessed that was another of Darren’s ideas. Luckily Carl was too drunk to care. I hoped nobody posted the photos on Facebook or Instagram later.

  Nancy looked skeptical.

  “Yeah, I know. He’s kind of a douche, but he’s a really nice guy, too.”

  Nancy laughed. “The fun just never stops around here.”

  I pulled ten fifty-dollar bills out of my wallet and handed them over. “Thanks, Nancy.”

  She tucked the notes provocatively into her cleavage, and winked at me as she wiggled her hips and strolled away.

  I asked the bartender to send a couple of bottles of champagne backstage for the girls, then headed over to join the party.

  “Hey, man, where you been?” Carl slurred, as I slumped into a seat next to him.

  “You’ll see!” I laughed.

  He stared at me drunkenly, then a lazy smile spread over his face.

  “What ya done now, you crazy fucker?”

  Suddenly, the bass-heavy opening bars of Joan Jett’s ‘I Love Rock ‘n’ Roll’ came pumping from the juke box, and this amazing looking woman in black leather and crazy high stilettos came bumping and grinding onto the stage. She stopped in front of our section and bent down low, her ass in the air, her tits just about spilling out of her leather corset.

  Carl’s tongue rolled from his mouth and along the table, almost down to his knees. I felt bad for him because I swear the guy drooled.

  “I’d like to put a dime in her jukebox,” Rico yelled.

  The dancer grabbed hold of the pole in front of her, sliding her lush hips up and down in a way that probably made every guy in the place feel both horny and inadequate. I mean, come on! It was a freaking nine foot pole!

  Her skin glistened and glittered under the strobe lights, and I was close enough to see the tension and play of the muscles in her stomach as she writhed around, doing things with a pole that no fireman should ever experience.

  Suddenly, an image of Laura in the same outfit came to mind. She had good muscle tone, so … I had to push the thought away quickly.

  The music changed and ‘Love Shack’ poured out as the girl strutted her way toward Carl, shimmying from the stage and landing in front of him. He looked shocked, horny—well mostly shocked—as she pushed his knees together and straddled his hips. Then she looked at me and whispered something in his ear. He got the message.

  So did I, because I could lip read pretty well.

  All the guys were laughing and cheering her on. Carl’s hands gripped the sides of his chair and he looked like he was going to choke when she just about rubbed her tits in his face. Just about, but not quite.

  Gotta say it was freakin’ hilarious. For once Darren shut the hell up. His eyes were glued to the dancer’s, um, assets as she ground up and down on Carl. It made me wonder if Paige didn’t put out for him that much, which was weird, because it was the only thing about our short lived relationship that was functional.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I peeled my eyes from Carl’s lap dance to read the message, a huge smile on my face.

  ** Hey! Are you having fun? Hope you’re not being seduced by gorgeous strippers in lacy thongs! Laura x **

  I replied immediately.

  ** Noone her as gorgeooous as my babe.

  But hell yeah to lacy thhongz with you in them! **

  Okay, so my texting skills may have been affected by the amount of whiskey pumping through my veins where blood should have been. Thank God for autocorrect.

  “Who you texting, man?” some guy named Jerry yelled in my ear. “Because I’ve never seen a dude miss out on a show like that,” he said, pointing at Carl as the dance came to an end, “unless he was gay.”

  I grinned like an idiot. “My girlfriend is hotter.”

  His eyes swiveled back to the dancer who was showing her flexibility by hooking one leg over Carl’s shoulder—he looked kind of dazed. I hadn’t seen anything like that since my client Mary Rose had taught me some Kama Sutra moves.

  “Seriously? Hotter than that?” Jerry coughed.

  I shrugged and nodded. “I think so.”

  The music ended and the girl winked at Carl, whose eyes were so wide, I was afraid the lids had been glued open.

  She stood up, blew him a kiss then walked toward me.

  “Holy shit!” whispered Jerry. “She’s coming over!”

  I put my phone away in time to catch the girl’s hips as she sat on my lap.

  “Hi!” she smiled.

  “Great dance,” I grinned at her. “My friend really enjoyed it—although I think he’s lost the power of speech.”

  “Huh,” she said, looking amused. “You weren’t even watching—you were too busy texting!”

  “Sorry,” I apologized, quickly. “That was rude.”

  She waved a hand. “It’s okay. To be honest, it’s refreshing not to be eye-fucked.”

  I totally knew what she meant—not that I’d be sharing that detail.

  “Anyway, I wanted to come over and thank you for the champagne. That was real nice. You’re a class act.”

  “No worries. If you’re dancing for my idiot friend, I thought you’d deserve it.”

  “Ah, he’s no problem. It’s nice not to be grabbed—he’s kinda sweet. Not hot like you, but a nice guy.”

  “You don’t think I’m a nice guy?” I grinned at her.

  “I’d love to have the chance to find out.”

  She kissed me lightly on the lips then stood up. I laughed, watching the very nice scenery as she sashayed back across the stage.

  At that moment Darren stumbled over, crashing into our table and sending the drinks skidding along the surface.

  I ignored him with some effort, reminding myself that I’d promised Carl there wouldn’t be any trouble.

  “You still think your girlfriend is hotter than that?” Jerry asked, elbowing Darren into his seat.

  I nodded, forcing a smile.

  “You bringing her to the wedding?”

  “You’re bringing a date to the wedding?” interrupted Darren.

  Jerry was too wasted to reco
gnize the tone. “Yeah, his hotter than hell girlfriend, apparently.”

  “It’s a wedding, not work,” Darren said, with a smug expression.

  My temper was fraying fast, but Jerry just looked puzzled. “That’s what I said, man.”

  “That whore’s about your level,” spat Darren, an ugly twist of his mouth.

  I stood up quickly and he backed away, jolting the table again so the guys had to grab for their drinks again.

  “My level? You want to tell Paige you said that?”

  His face turned purple, and I smiled at him coldly.

  Well, I’d said I wouldn’t start anything with Darren, but if the asswipe didn’t shut the fuck up, I’d sure as hell be finishing it.

  But he left me alone after that and the rest of the evening passed without incident—unless you count Carl vomiting up half a bottle of whiskey in the bathroom later.

  When we finally left the club, Darren was virtually comatose and being held up by two of the guys; Carl was mumbling into my shoulder incoherently.

  It was no surprise that cab drivers sped past when they saw us.

  I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket again, and I struggled to answer it and still support Carl with one arm.

  “Hi, I thought I’d just say goodnight. I’m heading to bed now. How’s it going?”

  “Great! One guy is passed out, Carl has told me he loves me three times, and no cab driver will pick us up.”

  “Do you want me to come and get you?”

  “You don’t want our drunk asses in your car—I can’t leave Carl.”

  “It’s no problem. Besides, I miss your drunk ass.”

  “You’re killing me here!”

  “Tell me where you are. I’m getting in my car now.”

  “Fuck no, Laura!”

  “Stop arguing. Where are you?”

  I nearly dropped the phone when Carl started swaying then lurched to the side.

  “Shit. Okay, we’re outside Jumbo’s Clown Room on Hollywood Boulevard.”

  “See, that was easy! I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”