I have to admit, I do look pretty damn hot. I just don't know if this is something I'll be able to manage alone.
"Just try the rest of the stuff on, and we'll decide at the end." Charlene motions to the piles on the chairs.
The girls file out of the dressing room, and I spend the next half hour modeling lingerie. I have to show them every outfit, and then they have a vote. By the time I'm done, I have a larger keep pile than no pile. Half the stuff I'm not convinced I'll actually wear for Alex, but I'm beyond arguing. We've been in this store for two hours. I'm hungry, and we've run out of traveler wine.
Usually my max time in a dressing room is twenty minutes. I try stuff on, pick some things I like, and get out. I'm tired from all the snaps and buttons and hooks and buckles. My fingertips hurt.
Before we hit the cash, Charlene stops by the Area 51 section and picks up a bunch of the small butt plugs.
"What are those for, party favors?" I can't see why anyone would have a use for more than one, unless they were setting up a festive anal toy display.
Charlene ignores me, but jumps ahead of me in line. She dumps her basket of porn paraphernalia on the counter. It's smut heaven. The cashier rings it up, and they have a serious conversation about the benefits of relaxation lube versus numbing lube.
When it's my turn, I try to hide the Area 51 toy under the pile of equally embarrassing chainmail lingerie. The cashier is dressed like a pinup girl. Her boobs are pushed way up in a corset, and she has pin-curls. Her lips are the color of Alex's hockey jersey-and my underwear.
"Oooh, looks like you're going to have some fun," she says.
"We'll see." I wish she'd move faster and put all the whips-and-chains stuff away before my mom and Daisy find us. I have no idea where they've gone.
"This one is so sexy." Her white teeth sparkle as she holds up the outfit with the most buckles and chains. It also has these cuffs that apparently attach to the hips. Yeah. Like I want my hands restrained when Alex is coming at me with the monster cock.
"On second thought, maybe I won't-"
"You girls find everything you were looking for?" My mom throws her arm around my shoulder.
I close my eyes. Of course. I hear Daisy's choked cough behind me. Fuckballs.
"We sure did!" Charlene says. "I'm super excited to try this on at home." She fingers the lingerie armor, and it clinks ominously. I'm so grateful. I don't think I'd ever be able to look Daisy in the eye again if she knew it was for me.
"I didn't know you were into the kink!" my mother practically shouts.
"We all have our secrets, Skye." Charlene winks.
Daisy pushes between them to get a better look. "Oh … that's, um, interesting, Charlene."
"That's how I like to keep things, Daisy." Her grin is devious.
"And that's what this does?" Daisy gestures to the outfit the cashier is wrapping in pink tissue paper. "Keeps things interesting?"
"Sure does."
Daisy twirls a lock of hair-since it's no longer held in place with six cans of hairspray-as she considers this. "I can see that."
I think she and my mother may have gone for drinks, because they're both glassy-eyed. Or Daisy's been feeding my mom Robbie's scooby snacks. Both are realistic possibilities.
When the cashier gets to the end of the whips-and-chains outfits, Charlene says, "The rest of that stuff is hers. That's what we get for using the same basket." She tosses a credit card on the counter, but not the one she used to pay for the other stuff. The total is more than two thousand dollars. Which seems insane.
"I'll give you the money as soon as we're home."
"It's fine," she whispers dismissively.
"It's way expensive. You're not paying for that."
"I have a special card from Darren."
"What?"
"He has expensive taste. In some things."
"That's cryptic."
She lifts a shoulder and smiles.
"I'm hungry," Sunny says.
"We should get dinner! And then we should go see some male strippers!" my mom shouts.
Jesus. Will this day of embarrassment never end?
20
I Will Puck You Forever
ALEX
My dad is a mellow guy, but I guess that's what you get when you test medical maryjane for a living. Not much riles him, and most of the time I really appreciate that. When I decided to hang up the figure skates and pursue a career in professional hockey, my dad was the one who took the brunt of my mother's disappointment.
When I screwed things up with Violet by stupidly denying our relationship in a very public way over endorsement opportunities, he was there to tell me to stop being a fucking idiot, only not in those words.
When I had the accident this year, I was mopey and bitchy and taking it out on the people around me. My dad told me I should probably start eating weed brownies and appreciate the fact that my injuries weren't more serious and I'd still have a career when I recovered. Weed brownies aside, he was right, as he often is.
When I was struggling to get Violet to agree to a wedding date and moaning over how much she worked, my dad gently suggested I reevaluate my life goals and what was important to me. Money might buy me comfort, but it sure as hell wasn't going to buy me another Violet if I drove her insane with the wedding crap or made her feel like her career wasn't important. Again, he was right.
And when my sister surprised us all with the pregnancy, my dad was the one to point out that of all the people in our family, Sunny was the most equipped to deal with babies, because she'd grown up in a house with two of them-me and him-and two dogs. And he was right, even though I hated to admit it.
But all that aside, right now I'm annoyed with him. He's not sensing the urgency. We have suits sorted out, and we have rings. I'm having custom ones made when we get home, but the simple ones we got will work for now-I just want to put a ring on Violet. So she's mine. Forever. And not in a possessive, club-her-over-the-head kind of way. Okay, maybe a bit like that, but mostly not.
Mostly I'm excited that she's finally going to be my wife, and once we're married I can start arguing my case for a large family.
So the rings are bought and I've even managed to set up a nice dinner for all of us after the ceremony. I've also called her boss to clear an extended vacation. Tomorrow night we're flying to Hawaii for two weeks. My plan is to have an absurd amount of sex with my wife. And to relax. And to love her.
But we have two outstanding problems: the venue and my vows. I've always planned to write my own, not use the stock crap you repeat after the officiant. I'm not too worried about that, even though I've had three beers, and Darren has ordered me another. I know exactly how I feel about Violet, so writing it down shouldn't be difficult.
That leaves me with the venue. I've looked at every twenty-four-hour chapel in a thirty-mile radius of the Strip. It's not that there's anything wrong with them, per se. I would just like someone other than an Elvis impersonator to marry us.
My dad doesn't seem to share my focus on the matter, despite the fact that I'm getting married in less than twenty-four-hours.
"I can do it." Lance takes another sip of his beer and leans back in his chair until it's resting on two legs.
Everyone stares at him.
"You can do what?"
"I can officiate the wedding, if you want to see about having it in a real church. I mean, it's short notice, and I don't even know if you'll be able to find a place … or maybe one of these chapels will let me stand in."
I continue staring at him, unsure if he's joking or not. I don't think he is.
"Or not. It was just a thought." He drains half his beer in a big gulp.
Darren looks up from his phone, which he's been involved in most of the day. Apparently Charlene has been sending him pictures. "You're ordained?"
Lance nods, like that's all the explanation required.
"You're shitting me, right?" Randy asks the question I don't.
"Nope." He shifts around, clearly uncomfortable with the way we're all gawking at him.
I don't know what he expected when he dropped that kind of bomb. Lance is the most notorious playboy in the NHL. He has a reputation for taking multiple women to bed. At the same time. Together. All at once. And now he's telling us he's an ordained minister?
"So … does that mean you wanted to be a man of the cloth?" I ask.
"A man of the loin cloth!" Miller smacks his thigh.
No one else laughs.
Lance rolls the bottle between his palms. "A friend needed a favor a while back. I got internet certified. But it's legit." The phrase comes out sounding distinctly Scottish. "Anyway, the offer is there. Whatever you decide."