Chaser (Dive Bar #3)(19)

Both women laughed.

“More drinks required,” declared Rosie, releasing her hold on her friend before bustling over to the fridge.

I followed. “Allow me.”

“Relax, I got it. You want a beer?”

“Please.”

She opened one of the Ninkasi Total Dominations and handed it over. A nice IPA from Oregon and my particular donation to the party bar. Lydia had also liberated some wine from the bar, cider, and a couple of bottles of liquor earlier in the day. Along with some non-alcoholic options, of course. The house had been fully stocked.

“You want one too, Vaughan?” she asked our co-host, who had just appeared at my shoulder.

He nodded, then mumbled to me, “Cool dress.”

“Thanks.” I looked him over. “What the hell are you supposed to be?”

“Sasquatch. But the head was too fucking hot to wear so I dumped it.” He pushed a hand through his still damp red hair. “The full body fur suit is bad enough.”

“Go stand out in the cold for a while.”

“Andre and I are about to,” he said. “He came in a white Vegas Elvis costume. Rhinestone belt and all. Polyester from head to toe.”

“That is not a breathable fabric.”

Natasha chuckled and I smiled at her. The woman seemed nice. Very nice.

“Have you two met?” I asked. “Natasha, this is Vaughan. He’s terrible, you won’t like him.”

“We’ve met already,” said Vaughan dourly. “And she found me to be delightful and said Lydia was a lucky woman to have me.”

I raised a brow at Natasha in question.

“Delightful. Absolutely,” she dutifully repeated.

“You know, next year I’m going in drag too and wearing a bikini,” said Vaughan. “Get a long blond wig. Come as Pamela Anderson.”

“We’ll all look forward to that,” I said, keeping my face straight. “Maybe you could consider shaving first? Full body wax?”

Rosie snorted. “You definitely should. Natasha can do it for you.”

“I have many male clients.” Natasha grabbed another cider. “Be happy to help you.”

“Thank you. But not a chance,” said Vaughan. “Wax scares me. If Eric can get away with Wednesday Addams with stubble, then you can all just deal with me in my natural glory.”

“By the way, Pamela Anderson wore a one-piece on Baywatch. Not a bikini,” said Rosie, passing the man a beer.

“Thanks,” he said. “Is a one-piece comfortable?”

“Probably more likely to give you a wedgie.”

Natasha nodded. “God knows what it would do to the rest of your goods.”

“Damn,” said Vaughan. “Might have to give it some thought.”

“Wear a dress,” I suggested, doing a twirl. “Skirts are cool.”

“Good idea. I better circulate and find Andre before he tries to climb onto the coffee table and sing ‘Hound Dog’ again. Later.” Vaughan disappeared off into the crowd.

As per usual, the kitchen remained prime real estate with people constantly coming and going. Rosie might be keen on setting me up with a friend, but she stayed close, keeping an eye on things, making sure I behaved. She and Nell too, bless them both for their confidence in me. Nell’s bump had been dressed up as the Death Star. Which meant Pat must be the Darth Vader hanging with Joe in the living room.

Nell’s reaction upon hearing about me taking a break from sex had been about the same as Rosie’s. In fact, she’d almost fallen over, she’d been laughing so hard. I was a little worried she’d go into early labor. Still, the lack of faith was about what I’d expected. Since one article I’d read on the web suggested reclaiming your chastity could be a purifying experience, it gave me plenty of extra incentive to just stay the hell away from the woman. I didn’t need that kind of negativity in my new, purer, temporarily celibate life.

I didn’t feel any more enlightened—yet. Surely that would come.

Meanwhile, Natasha and I chatted, standing in an out-of-the-way corner. Mostly we talked about the recent change of premises and expansion at her business. The woman had a sharp mind to go along with her beautiful body. I could learn a lot from her. Back when we first opened the Dive Bar a few years ago, I didn’t know shit about running a business. Nice to know I could appear halfway intelligent on the subject now. Or I knew when to nod, at least.

Another drink went by and we were standing close, speaking in low voices. Everything looked good, from the way she kept placing her hand on my arm to the warmth in her eyes.

“I don’t believe you.” A familiar laugh filled the air and my head shot up. Jean. She entered the kitchen with Andre hot on her heels.

“It’s true,” he said. “I met the king.”

“You must have been like two years old.”

“Younger. He made a huge impression on me, changed my whole life.”

“Oh, obviously.” Jean paused briefly when she spotted me. Her bump had been transformed into a colorful goldfish bowl care of the print on her T-shirt. She even had sparkly themed hairclips. One was a fish, another some shiny green weed, and the last one a little plastic castle. “Eric. Hi.”

“E.” Andre gave me a slap on the arm. “Looking good. Very pretty.”