Page 23 of Until the Last Star Fades

Riley nodded.

“I only found out because I caught him leaving a pawn shop—he’d sold an old watch, family bits and bobs. I remember his face. He looked shocked and angry, but I think more than anything he was ashamed. He said, ‘Casey, I don’t want your sisters worrying about any of this, so let’s keep it to ourselves.’ Maybe your mom’s the same?” He pressed the elevator button, still wearing his gloves. His obsession with Harry Styles was matched only by his obsession for dodging germs. “If she called all the time and told you about every bad day, you’d never make it through college, and you’d never see your friends or go out. She’s protecting you, Rye—”

“Yeah, but it’s hard to have a ‘normal life’ when I’m worrying she’s not being straight with me. Catch-22, right?”

“I know, but it’s what she wants.” He squeezed her arm. “You have to respect that.”

“Do I?” Riley sighed and followed Casey into the elevator.

Twelve

One week later

Swaying in time to The Weeknd’s “Earned It” to be polite, Riley stifled a yawn and gave Erika a thumbs-up, watching her float onto the stage, cheeks aglow above a megawatt smile that screamed, Fun like this should be illegal! The bride-to-be was in total banana hammock heaven, and it didn’t hurt that the male dancer leading her by the hand through the foggy haze was a dead ringer for Erika’s favorite actor, Zac Efron. Dressed in a sexy, casual combo of a muscle-hugging tank and beat-up Levi’s, his attire made a nice change from all the spandex short-shorts, trench coats, and cheesy fireman costumes (complete with big hoses) that had strutted across the blue-lit stage of the East Village club over the previous hour.

“You’re next, Rye!” Erika shouted with a wink, her enthusiasm for Riley’s just-delivered engagement news bordering on obsessive. She had already named herself Riley’s chief bridesmaid and forced her to endure two nearly naked lap dances. Male dancers weren’t Riley’s thing, but witnessing Erika’s overwhelming glee made her laugh, and the ear-pounding music meant she didn’t have to make small talk with Leia—a win-win.

Riley’s eyes flitted to the table behind them and the uncut penis cake that pointed at Leia’s butt. With a snicker, she adjusted her pink satin sash with ‘Hot Bridesmaid’ embellished in silver glitter and joined the crowd, clapping to the beat as it swerved into the whistling intro of Maroon 5’s “Moves Like Jagger”. Five more dancers wearing Ray-Bans appeared through the smoke, echoing the Efron lookalike’s uniform. They stalked the stage under the pulsing strobe lights, each slipping a hand under their tank tops, their faces feigning wonderment over their yet-to-be-revealed physiques. The scent of cologne and sweat hung in the air, a testosterone-charged calling card inviting the shrieking audience to pant and claw their way closer.

The six dancers circled around Erika’s chair on stage, their bodies rolling seductively to the bass. Squealing with a naughty twinkle in her eyes, she bounced up and down, barely able to keep her hands to herself. Her white ‘Sexy Bride’ sash slipped off a shoulder, and the Zac lookalike grabbed hold and used it like a lasso to pull her closer. Erika opened her knees slightly and the dancer went to work, grinding his hips and lifting the hem of his tank higher, higher, up over his head. He clutched her eager hands, sliding them down his hard pecs and jaw-dropping eight-pack to his impressive abdominal V-lines. Erika screamed in hilarity.

“Go lower—LOWER ERIKA!” Leia shouted.

Riley smiled. Okay, I admit it…this is hilarious! Erika, the immaculate hospitality coordinator at the ritzy Four Seasons Hotel, was shaking off the posh persona she wore Monday through Friday and owning her sexual fantasies without apology. For once, she wasn’t bothered about her image, who was watching, or what Scott would think, and was full-on enjoying herself.

Finishing her water, Riley set down her glass and caught the now shirtless men flexing their abs and rolling their denim-clad hips, whipping the women into a feral frenzy. With a well-timed pelvic thrust, they tossed their sunglasses into the audience, eliciting lustful howls and a surge of grabby hands lunging toward the airborne accessories. Most were out of luck as Riley, Leia, and two of Erika’s work friends captured four of the six shades.

Licking her lips, Riley put on the glasses. “I hope these things are 3-D!”

Leia burst into laughter, the two women united in a common goal—kissing goodbye to Erika’s bachelorette status, one pelvic thrust at a time.

Head bobbing, Riley’s eyes flitted from a handsy Erika getting carried away with Efron Junior to a dancer hanging back, seemingly playing catch-up. Out of sync with the music and choreography, his moves were not like Jagger—they were hesitant and off beat—and his chest and abs, while toned and sculpted, weren’t as over-the-top stripperlicious as the other guys’ muscles. Flicking his hair out of his eyes, he bumped into his fellow dancers and stumbled in the dark, almost falling off the back corner of the stage. What’s up with that guy? She removed the cheap sunglasses, trying to see through the dry ice. He’s hot and his hair—my God, what an irresistible mess, but…is he drunk?

He looked up and Riley’s heart tripped.

BEN?!

• • •

BOLLOCKS! Is that RILEY?!

Freezing on the spot, Ben’s stomach flipped. He gulped and spun clumsily behind Hunter, his arms wrapping around his bare chest. She didn’t see me, did she? Oh fuck!

“Dude!” Hunter growled over his shoulder. “Get it together. Go dance with the bridesmaids.”

“Uh, mate, I can’t. I’m…erm…”

Hunter dance-moved behind and elbowed him in the back, forcing Ben forward. Caught off guard, he tripped over his own feet, face planting beside Erika’s Jimmy Choos.

Great! Face down, center-fucking-stage. Nice one, you complete muppet.

Erika didn’t notice. Eyes closed, her hands were dedicated to Zach’s abs as he teased her neck with feathery, barely there kisses.

Ben pressed his forehead into the floor and held his breath, sweat gathering between his shoulder blades. Jesus, I can’t just lie here. FUCK. Improvise! Pretend this is part of the show. Within seconds, he rose up on his forearms, humping the stage. He flipped over and stood up, briefly catching Riley’s eyes before his gaze slipped to Leia, who arched an eyebrow and leaned into Riley’s ear. Peering through his hair, Ben couldn’t look away. What’s she saying? A laugh flew from Leia’s lips, but Riley didn’t join in. She stared, eyes narrowing, jaw slack.

What the fuck did she say? With a sweep of his hand across his stubble and a roll of his hips, Ben was almost caught up to the other dancers, but his mouth sank into a frown. I am such a loser. Kill me now.

Hunter nudged Ben toward Riley. “Buddy, c’mon—work the crowd.”