The Worst Best Man(12)
“You’ll be beautiful,” Frankie promised her. “Chip here will get you a salad and a yummy green juice, and you won’t even miss the pizza.”
Lies. Dirty, dirty lies.
“Anything you want, babe,” Chip promised.
Pru sighed. “Will you eat with me?” Chip, whose metabolism had remained the same since he was twelve, looked crestfallen for just a moment before his resolve kicked in. “I’d be honored.”
“Maybe you should ask your best man to join you,” Frankie suggested, jutting her chin down to the sand where the shirtless Aiden was glaring at his phone. “Come on, my dear Davenport. Mama needs food.”
Chapter Seven
Oistins Fish Fry was the kind of human meat market that should have bothered Aiden. It was a press of bodies on all sides. Tents flapping wildly in the constant breeze. Neon lights, dancers with glow sticks, and open grills everywhere. But it wasn’t the wild crowds lining up for a spot at picnic tables where they’d be served freshly grilled fish and cold beer that concerned him.
It was the fact that no one else seemed to be bothered by the fact that the bride and bridesmaids were half an hour late and no one was answering their phones.
Why Chip and Pru needed yet another bachelor and bachelorette party was beyond him. He’d attended the one in the city. A steak and scotch dinner followed by one of the more tasteful strip clubs that the groomsmen had done their best to debauch.
Today, they’d hit three rum shops and a distillery for a private tour. No strippers this time, not with the wedding less than twenty-four hours away. But the girls had been cagey about their plans, and now they were MIA. Aiden was not happy.
The band struck up another energetic song, and Aiden brushed off a few invitations to dance. Chip and the rest of them were happy to be swallowed up by the crowd, making a mockery of the dance.
“Shake your ass, Kilbourn,” Digby shouted from the middle of a dozen ladies. They encircled him, moving as one, and Aiden pondered punching Digby in the face. But that would upset Pru, and Digby was drunk enough he might not notice the blow.
“Best bachelor party ever,” Chip announced at the top of his lungs. The crowd around him cheered. He’d said the same thing at the steak dinner and again after a particularly creative lap dance. Chip was an effusive kind of guy. He loved everything, and it was hard not to love him back.
Aiden waded through the crowd to his side. “Where are the girls?” he demanded.
Chip closed one eye and tried to focus. Aiden, for once in recent memory, was the only sober member of the party. “Girls? They’re everywhere, man.” He waved a hand in a wide circle.
“Not those girls. Our girls. Your bride, Pru? Frankie? The bridesmaids?”
“Ohhh, those girls! They’re awesome, aren’t they?” Chip said, leaning hard on Aiden. “Well, Pru and Frankie are. The other three are kind of scary. But totally in an al-shome way.”
“Yeah. Totally al-shome. Aren’t they supposed to be meeting us here?”
“Oh, yeah! I forgot.” He fumbled through his pocket for a phone. “Let me call my beautiful bride. I’m getting married tomorrow. Did you know?”
Aiden bit back a sigh. “I’m aware. Dial.”
“Okay, okay.”
Chip stabbed at the screen.
“Baaaaaaaaby!” Pru, drunk as a skunk, answered the video call. She was listing to the right on one of the blonde bridesmaids.
“Babe! I’m so drunk!” Chip shouted cheerfully.
“Oh, my God! Me too! Taffany threw up twice so far!”
The girls whooped in the background. “Puking rally,” Taffany crowed.
“Jesus. Where’s Frankie?” Aiden demanded.
“She’s right here,” Pru sang. “Isn’t she beautiful?” The camera switched to an extreme close up of a very sober, very annoyed Frankie.
“Yeah, I’m gorgeous. We’re all aware. Pru, drink your water.” Frankie took the phone from her friend.
“For the love of god, Aide. Tell me someone there is sober. I need to get food into these girls before they turn to drunken cannibalism.”
“Cannonball,” Taffany shouted, leaning over Frankie’s shoulder and planting a wet kiss on her face.
Frankie rolled her eyes.
“Where are you?” Aiden demanded.
“How the fuck should I know? It’s dark, and there’s potholes so we could be anywhere on the island.”
Aiden sighed. “Ask the driver where you are and how long it’ll be before you’re here.”
From his angle, Aiden watched as Frankie climbed her way over a seat around a blonde and stuck her head between the driver and passenger seats. Her breasts were exploding out of the low neckline of her dress.
“Don’t put his eye out,” Aiden said mildly.
Frankie looked down, looked up, and flicked him off. “Deal with the view for two seconds, ass. Excuse me, Walter. Do you know how long it’ll be before we get to Oistins?”
Aiden couldn’t hear the driver’s reply. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the noise around him, the drunken hysteria of the women on Frankie’s end, or the hypnotic view of her breasts.
“Five minutes,” she repeated. “Thank God. We need food.” Her eyes went wide.