Shame: A Stepbrother Romance (3 page)

Even in my trashy pantyhose and high heels, and a dress that barely covers my ass and squishes my boobs like an eighteenth century corset, I’m no match for the bride-to-be.

She is wearing a green sequined top that more than suggests the shape of her breasts, and a tight black skirt that leaves little to the imagination. The worst is the mid-thigh black stockings and the garter strings that extend from them and disappear beneath the skirt’s hem. Her gorgeous black hair is enormous. She’s teased it out and styled it, so it looks like a giant halo around her baby face. Her flawless caramel skin is tinted peach and I wonder if it’s make-up or she’s had a few shots already.

To my surprise, there’s no one else there yet.

“The others are on their way,” Ashleigh informs me, “But that’s good, because I’m nowhere near ready with the decorations. Here, help me out and I’ll get you a drink.”

I deposit my treasure trove duffel bag on the floor and start pulling out a rhinestone princess crown and a veil for her and the satin sash I managed to get last minute. It says
Buy me a shot, I’m tying the knot
. Classy, I know. There are similar ones for the rest of the girls that only say
Bride’s Drinking Team
. I hope the other girls won’t be too disappointed, but I was a little selfish when I was choosing them. I don’t want to be wearing sex invitations on myself in a club.

Ashleigh is back with two tall glasses of what looks like pink champagne. It might as well be the pink panty dropper. We say cheers and clink the glasses. It’s sweet and bubbly and for the first time tonight, I feel that maybe I’ll manage to loosen up and stop looking on this whole thing with such a cynical eye.

In the next half hour, while we are waiting for the other girls, we tape glitter balloons to the ceiling and set up a bar with champagne glasses, chocolate-covered strawberries, pink pearl covered cupcakes and the boxes of little gifts she’s got for us. We set out empty jars, paper, scissors and pens for the games I’ve come up with. How well do you know the bride? Who am I? ‘Fun’ stuff like that. We make garlands of thongs and sunglasses and hang these over the curtains.

By the time we are done, everything is pink, red and shimmery and I can’t stop myself from thinking how
not us
this place looks like now. It’s more of a backdrop for a Barbie doll game. But hey, she wants this, I keep reminding myself, and every time I see her squealing with delight after I take out another piece of decoration from the duffel bag, I know I can live with it.

“Hey, Jo,” she says after we are done and finally sitting on the sofa, sipping our champagne, “I wonder if the guys put that much effort into their party.”

“Are you kidding?” I scoff, “I bet they haven’t even put that much effort in their outfits. Not to mention
games
. Or candy. Or anything that remotely has to do with playing with words.”

She strokes her satin sash.

“I know, this is fabulous. Buy me a shot, I’m tying the knot,” she reads aloud and giggles. “We are such girly girls tonight!”

“Don’t remind me,” I say and raise my glass to her. “And by the way, this was your last mentioning of ‘the guys.’ I don’t want to hear anther word about them. Rule number one for tonight is no texting, calling or even checking Facebook. Let them have their fun and we’ll have ours.”

“You are the best maid of honor, you know that?”

The doorbell finally chimes and we both jump to our bare feet. We’ve taken off our high heels in the first five minutes. I wonder how I’m ever going to dance in those things.

“Alright,” Ashleigh says, “Let’s get our party started!”

When we arrive at the club, it’s already a few minutes past midnight. We wobble to the front of the line (none of us is very convincing at this walking in heels thing), and I give my name to the model-like girl at the entrance. I hear a few whistles and calls addressed to us and it makes me want to hide somewhere. The six of us can easily pass for party girls and the fact we are wearing our bridal shower paraphernalia automatically puts us in the center of attention.

“Right this way,” the girl directs us with half a cold smile and crosses something off on her clipboard.

I grab Ashleigh’s hand, but she seems so eager to get in, she is pulling me forward way faster than I can manage on these shoes. We played so many drinking games that the neon-lit narrow hallway is already swimming a bit before me as I struggle to keep my balance. Alcohol and I don’t exactly get along. I’m not a drinker and one of my worst nightmares involves toilets and girlfriends holding each other’s hair. It sounds humiliating and I hope I never get to do that. Not at twenty-seven.

We are finally in and at first I am completely stunned. It’s dark enough, so not everyone turns to stare at us as we walk in like I feared, but otherwise, it feels like I’ve just arrived to a new planet. The music is almost deafening, glistening half-naked bodies are writhing on the dance floor, amber liquid is sparkling in thick glasses, girls are sitting in guys’ laps and leaning in to shout in their ears. Colored spotlights are traveling through the space and revealing flashes of scenes I’ve only seen in movies.

A rush of adrenaline immediately travels to my head. I’m feeling incredibly anxious and as if I am completely out of place here. I look at Ashleigh for reassurance, but she seems mesmerized with all that’s playing out in front of her and starts making her way towards another girl with a hands-free device on and a clipboard in her hands.

Why is everyone so impossibly beautiful in this place?

The girl with the hands-free, who is dressed in a tight silver jumpsuit, leads us to our table, which is a bit far from the main action, but at least we have a leather booth and a good view of the dance floor. She shouts in my ear that the waitress will be right with us and leaves. Now is when it really becomes awkward. None of us knows what to do or how to behave.

We’ve checked our coats and I feel naked in the dim light of the place. The little light there is bounces off my brimming breasts and I’m afraid they might pop out if I make a rash move. I scan the neighboring tables and am horrified to see there are male companies on both our sides, who are now conspicuously checking us out as we file into the booth and sit down.

None of us is ready to dance and the confidence that we had in Ashleigh’s apartment has now shrunk to nothing. At least I’m not the only one who feels this way. I see Ashleigh twisting her hands in her lap, aching to reach for her phone. Staring at a phone screen is the best camouflage when you don’t know what to do with yourself in a crowded place and I see a few blue screens gleaming in the semi-darkness around us.

We made a pact though. No phones. And no pictures.

Whatever happens or doesn’t happen tonight, stays between us. That’s what we agreed. It seemed like a very naughty pact back in the apartment, but now, looking at us sitting uneasily and turning our heads like crazy to take in all that’s going on around, I don’t think there will be much to compromise us in a hypothetical picture. We are so awkward, we even took off our sashes when we walked in and Ash has removed the crown and her bridal veil. It just seemed a bit too much and we’d all rather blend in than stand out right now.

“What should we get?” Ashleigh shouts in my ear and by the uncomfortable look in her eyes, I know her idea of a fun night out is not going as planned. I need to step it up. I promised myself I’d make her happy whatever it takes. Even if I need to make a fool of myself, I need to make this night a success and keep her from obsessing what her fiance might be doing right now.

“Leave that to me,” I shout back and wink, a fake confident smile on my lips.

I wave at the waitress and she comes over to take our order. She’s dressed in a bikini top and a tutu and a large jewel blinks in her belly button. I envy her for feeling so comfortable in this ridiculous outfit.

“A round of B52’s,” I order. I’m prepared. I’ve done my research and I know what to ask for.

What seems like an eternity later, our shots arrive. Blue flames rise from the shot glasses full of creamy liquid. I observe the girls’ surprised faces with a smug smile. I know none of them has drunk anything like it and neither have I, but in their eyes, I am the ultra-experienced club expert now. We down the shots and I order a round of cocktails this time.

The alcohol goes straight to my head and I start feeling a bit warm and fluttery, but most of all bolder. When after almost half an hour none of us has got up to her feet or even as much as twisted her body in a sitting dance, I decide it’s time to shake things up. We won’t have another night like this. Only tonight, out of all the nights we are ever going to live through, it will be Ashleigh’s bachelorette party.

I order another round of shots and pull out a velvet pouch from my purse. The girls, who would currently take any chance to do something other than stare around, are immediately gathered around me.

“The game is very simple,” I shout, explaining, “You draw a piece of paper from the pouch and show it to the others. There’s a dare on each. You absolutely have to do it or there’s another pouch with consequences. But, believe me, you don’t want to get to the other pouch.”

Though I need to repeat all this a few more times until all five of them are caught up, they finally seem thrilled to get started. I haven’t read the dares beside the first two that I managed to look at when I was printing the game, but I doubt there will be anything too embarrassing in there. It wouldn’t have been on Pinterest for everyone to see after all.

We decide to go in a circle and Ashleigh is first in turn. She makes a dramatic show of plunging her hand into the pouch and shuffling through the small pieces of paper. She finally takes out one and we all lean in to see what she’s got.

Build a penis from found objects
.

She wrinkles her nose and starts making some defensive gestures, but it’s too late. I guess it’s too fun to see your friends making fools of themselves, because we all start shouting encouragements to her. When I see that she’s finally working herself up to it, I am relieved. The game is not too cheesy and it’s got us excited.

Ashleigh downs the remainder of her cocktail and steps off the small podium where our booth is. She is lost into the crowd in an instant and the girls and I use the time to get more drinks. When she’s back in a few minutes, I’m surprised she’s put so much effort into it. She’s clutching two olives and a straw, which she has bent in the shape of a penis, its ends stuck in the olives’ holes, and a mysterious elastic is holding the structure together.

Her face is triumphant and we cheer her on. Next in turn is Evie. She shuffles and draws.

Ask the DJ to play a song for the bride and mention her name
.

Evie is just as shy as any of us and she immediately starts protesting, but I threaten her that the other pouch has guy things in it, sexual things. I have no idea what’s in the other pouch, but it works and she soon disappears. Before she’s even made it back, Icona Pop’s
I Love It
fills the club with a special shout out to Ashleigh and her bridal team. I’m thinking,
thank God we are not wearing the sashes or everyone would know that’s us
, when I see Ashleigh pulling out the crown and veil and waving them above her head, screaming, and I want to die.

Fulfilling just one simple dare has made her braver. Or has it been the drinking?

She puts the crown on and makes a sign for us to take out the sashes. Suddenly, we are a whole lot more interesting for the male parties at our sides, though I doubt we look any less awkward than before. Ashleigh seems happy though, so I run with it. It’s my turn.

Write your number on a bathroom stall
.

The girls are jumping and toasting me and one of them is thrusting a pen and an instant disposable camera in my hand. We said no phones, but some of these dares can’t go undocumented. This is so stupid, I think as I make my way to the exit. I’m racking my brain where to write my number that would be least noticeable.

By the time I’m back with the evidence, there are some guys trying to get on our table, but Michelle and Evie are telling them off. It’s too early to be making introductions. The night has just begun and we are all in very high spirits. Everyone’s loving the game. It’s giving us all a chance (or an excuse) to be drunk and reckless and not ourselves for a while.

Ask a guy what color underwear he is wearing.

Draw a tattoo of your name on a stranger’s arm.

Say, “Hi, sexy,” to five strangers.

Get a condom from a guy
.

The game is rolling and we are laughing so much, my stomach hurts. The drinks keep coming and we are getting bolder by the minute. Everyone knows we are having a bridal shower now. The first shots, treat from our neighbors on the left, arrive. I feel happy and flushed. My body dances by itself. I’m even checking out the guys who sent us drinks and decide they are not too bad looking and some of them are even attractive, if that was the type of guy I’d ever feel attracted to.

I’m glad the girls are having so much fun and that they’ve forgotten all about the other pouch. It’s clear to me now that the first one contains plenty of guy, sexual things and I can only imagine what’s in the other one.

Go to bathroom and take off your panties. Give them to someone to hold hostage.