Page 13 of Braden

The maid of honor was already at the edge of the stage, sliding green slips into the thongs of several dancers, who obligingly positioned themselves to make her task easier. Elodie saw one man retreat a step, hold up a finger and waggle it, saying “No touching.”

And so the evening progressed. The men did other dances in various costumes, there were some solo performances, and at one point a singer took the stage and serenaded Tamarind with covers of several popular songs while she sat on the stage in a chair bedecked with ribbons and two men danced suggestively behind and in front of her.

The emcee emerged as the number ended and escorted the bride-to-be back to her place at the center table. “Now,” he said, “We need a volunteer for the next part of the show.” He looked around the room and Elodie did her best to be invisible. “You!” he said dramatically, pointing right at her as she shrank into her chair.

Two of the dancers came across the room to bring her to the stage. Elodie tried to demur, not wanting to be the center of attention, but the other women clapped for her, yelling ribald encouragement and the dancers were determined to get her into the performance. The next five minutes or so seemed like ten years as she was plunked into the chair on stage and the performance began. The men danced for her, getting closer and closer until they pulled her from the chair and pretended to do suggestive and sensual things to her while not actually touching her and she slipped into a dissociative state. It was all too much and her anxiety spiked. When the music ended, the lead dancer took her hand and led her offstage, to more hoots and approval from the audience. The emcee was surprised but recovered smoothly and was introducing the finale as Elodie slipped behind the curtains.

“Hey, lady, are you all right?” the dancer said, taking her to a couch in the backstage area. “Sorry, I could tell you really weren’t into it and usually we’d move on to someone else but we were specifically instructed to pick you for the dance.”

“Instructed by who?” she managed to stammer out, accepting the sealed water bottle another dancer handed her with a concerned expression on his face.

“The woman who booked the party. I guess she’s the maid of honor,” the first dancer said. He glanced at the stage entrance a few feet away. “Hey, I gotta go on.”

“Thanks.” She held up the water bottle. “I’m okay, just a little embarrassed. You guys are amazing dancers. I—I hope I didn’t ruin the act.”

“You were fine.” He grinned and rushed away. A moment later there was applause as he bounded on stage.

She couldn’t decide if she was angrier at Ivoria for arranging her embarrassment or flustered over having been the centerpiece of the suggestive dance. She did know she’d had enough of this event. A waitress hurried by on her way somewhere and Elodie snagged her elbow. “Can you do me a favor? Can you go out there and get my purse and the credit slips from my table? I’ll tip you a hundred credits to do it.”

The girl eyed her and shrugged. “Sure. This revue isn’t everyone’s cup of tea but I never saw anyone freak out the way you did before. The dancers are good guys. It was meant to be harmless fun. A lot of girls dream of getting close to these guys, you know.”

“They’re great and I know they were just doing their job, performing,” Elodie said firmly. “I wasn’t prepared to be part of the show.” Her anxiety issues were hers and not up for discussion right now. She assumed if Tamarind had known she was going to be singled out her friend would have put her foot down and stopped it. Tam knew about the incident in high school when a group of bullies had surrounded her and molested her, although thankfully they were interrupted before things could go too far but her clothing had been ripped and she’d had bruises all over from their groping and touching. Elodie had spent a long time in therapy and thought she’d worked through all the emotional fallout from the incident years ago but tonight had brought a lot of those emotions crashing back.

She could lecture herself as much as she wanted that the dancers had only been performing and hadn’t really touched her much, certainly not with intent to do harm, but the situation had overwhelmed her. Elodie guessed it was a form of a PTSD attack.

A few minutes later the waitress returned with the requested items and her shawl, which she’d forgotten about. Elodie gave her the tip and then said, “Can you give my green slips to the guy who escorted me off the stage? I appreciated his gesture and I’m not at all upset with him or any of the dancers. He can split it with the others if he wants.”

Something warmed in the other woman’s eyes and she took the stack, shoving it in an apron pocket. “Sure. Jay’s a genuinely good guy. Hey, the door there leads to the side exit, if you’re done for the night.”

“Thanks.” Elodie forced herself not to rush as she walked to the door the waitress had indicated. There was a short corridor and another door to the outside and once she emerged into the cool night air she leaned against the building and took deep breaths. Getting her handheld out of her purse, she texted Braden.

* * *

Despite being held in a casino, Renald’s bachelor party was much more restrained than Braden had expected. The event was in a private room off the main floor, with an open bar and snacks at hand. Sure five of the casino’s dancers had come in and performed a flashy routine to open the party, then left. There were no strippers, no ribald jokes or decorations, which was fine with Braden. Poker tables had been set up, with dealers and the evening progressed featuring cards and conversation. Chet arrived quite late but then was seated at his table, betting big and losing more than he won, although he did take a pot or two. Renald had staked his guests to a basic number of chips—the stakes were set deliberately low tonight—but people were free to bet more if they so desired.

Chet grumbled incessantly he’d rather be out in the casino itself, boasting about how good he was at counting cards and picking hot roulette numbers. He was twitchy and Braden got the definite feeling the man was addicted to gambling in all its forms. Chet took a couple of breaks to go out and make wagers on various sporting events, talking about it endlessly when he came back.

The other men at the table seemed used to Chet’s behavior. It grated on Braden but he could handle it for one night, to show respect for Renald. The superstar exhibited flashes of irritation at his best man’s behavior but didn’t say anything to shut him up or redirect the conversation at the table. They’d just finished a hand in which Marv took the pot and Chet was proposing a little known variation on the standard game the group had been playing when Braden’s handheld chimed. He figured it was either Nikko or Elodie and in either case he had to answer it, so he excused himself from the table and went to the bar, leaning against the wall.

He had an incoming text from Elodie, asking how his night was going. Ducking out the service door next to the bar, he commed her. “Hey, what’s going on? Are you doing okay?”

“Not really. I think I’m going back to the hotel. I’ll see you there,” she said in a voice he could tell was her effort at faking good spirits.

“Wait for me—I’ll be right there.” He ended the call and asked a passing waiter where the nearest exit might be.

Once outside in the refreshing night air he sprinted to the club where Elodie’s event was going on and found her sitting on a bench a few yards from the entrance. “Hey, so the party wasn’t any fun?”

When she looked up at him he saw her eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

“Oh, babe, what happened?” He gathered her into his arms and held her tight.

“Can we walk while I tell you? I don’t want to run into any of the other women.”

“Sure.” He took her hand and they walked toward the hotel.

“It was about what I expected at first,” she said. “The club has a male stripper show and they performed. Feelgoods were flowing like water and I do think Tam was having a great time. It’s not my thing but the guys were good dancers but then…” Her voice trailed off.

“But then?” he prompted, leashing his anger until he knew who had made his date so woebegone and tense on what should have been a fun night for her.