Author's Note: Apologies for the very long delay between chapters. With so much going on around the holidays, along with battling illness, I haven't had as much time to write. I hope the wait is worth it, though, because here is the wedding reception for John and the girls. It's a celebration - a culmination - of the pinnacle of happiness the group has reached. But there is something unexpected and darker lurking down the road for our friends. Enjoy.
* * *
My brain took more than a few moments to kick in because it was shrouded in an epic hangover. That much I knew for sure. Everything else? Was fuzzy. Almost as fuzz as my tongue felt in my dry mouth. My neck was sore, and my eyes were blurry. They flickered open, and the sun was at brutal full force, so I closed them again. The brief period they had remained open, though, confused me even further.
Where the fuck was I?
It definitely wasn't our house in LA. It wasn't one of the Hollywood & Vine houses. It wasn't Juliet and Melanie's.
I tried to force some saliva out of my glands and swallowed. I steeled myself and opened my eyes again. I was on a couch. It was definitely a couch. That's why my neck hurt, I thought. I was cold, too. I didn't have a blanket. And I was naked. Definitely naked. I looked to my right. It was so bright because huge picture windows were in front of me, looking out to an expansive patio and backyard. I saw a tennis court in the distance.
Houston. I was in our house in Houston.
My eyes focused. The buzz in my ears receded. I saw the remnants of cocaine on the glass coffee table. There was probably enough dusted over the top to shape into six lines at least. I closed my eyes again and listened for any signs of life in the house. Nothing. You could hear a pin drop.
I rubbed my hands down my thighs, massaging them, and got the courage to sit up. The room spun a little bit, but I managed. I put my feet on the floor, a thick rug providing ample cushion. I peeled my skin off the leather couch and realized I was sweating a little bit. I stood up and looked around the room. There were a dozen empty magnums of Champagne on the bar. More cocaine residue. A couple stubbed out cigars and joints. Two very dirty bongs. A small pile of xanax. I went for the pills and washed down two with a glass of flat bubbly that was left on the bar. There was no one else in the room.
So I went exploring.
Moving around helped my body settle into a landing pattern toward normalcy. I think the sip of Champagne had helped, and the xanax would kick in soon. Nothing but empty glasses littered the dining room. The kitchen was a mess, but the fridge was still full of Champagne. Fuck it, I thought, and grabbed a bottle. I pulled the cork carefully, releasing it with nothing more than a faint sigh. I poured a glass and continued my tour.
On the couches in the great room, I was surprised to find a naked and passed out Bryce, our wide receiver friend who we hadn't seen in too long. Across from him was an equally naked and passed out Jamie, his quarterback on the Vegas football team.
Seeing them triggered my slow memory. That's right. Last night was the Super Bowl. Houston had played San Francisco. It was the day after the third and final Stages Tour concert had taken place in Houston. We had all partied with Riley and Henry and the crew Saturday night after that gig, then just kept it rolling through Super Bowl Sunday until ... now. I took a drink, and the cold bubbles hit me like a lightning bolt. It was good, and my mouth started to recover.
I concluded my lap around the ground floor by checking on our primary bedroom. The door was closed, and I opened it quietly. I saw Jess and Katie still in bed, their legs and blonde hair tangled together. The door to the bathroom was closed, but I heard the shower running. I slid the door open a few inches and saw Kat and Rita in the shower together. They were giggling and playing grab-ass, and I wondered how they possibly could be so energetic. I closed the door again and decided to survey the rest of the house.
Upstairs, Jason was laid out with Crystal and Bianka in one of the bedrooms. I closed the door to let them sleep. Petey and Alix were in another. In the two back bedrooms, however, things got more interesting. One door was locked, but it was obvious someone was fucking behind it. The other door was open, and I discovered Nicole playing mistress of ceremonies in an ongoing group sex session. She was riding Ryan, the superhero movie star, reverse cowgirl. Jen, the other traffic girl who had since gone into escorting full-time in Vegas, was sucking on Nicole's tits. Next to them, Christy, my favorite flight attendant-turned-whore, was bent over the side of the bed being fucked by Dave, Riley's tour guitarist. In front of Christy, kneeling on the bed, was Ken, Riley's drummer, and Christy deep-throated his cock with ease.
My mind started to emerge from its fog. It was Monday. We had been in Houston since last Wednesday. All four of us had gone to the three Houston shows and cheered on Katie, wrapping up on Saturday. The Super Bowl happened Sunday. That's right. Johnny had engineered a 92-yard touchdown drive, throwing the championship-winning pass with two seconds left to secure Houston's second title in three years. That's why the party had gotten so crazy last night. It was a celebration.
But so many familiar faces from all over were here. Why? I emptied my glass of Champagne and worked my way back to the stairs, planning to refill it. My mind started to get in gear. That's right. It was Monday, and on Tuesday? We were going to Stephen's ranch - for the first time since Johnny and Shelly's wedding a couple years before. We were finally going to throw our big wedding reception for all our friends. A bunch of us had come in early for the concerts and the big game. Then we'd just keep the party rolling down at the ranch for a two-day orgy of every indulgence you could imagine.
Back in the kitchen, I poured another glass of Champagne. I steadied myself against the island and took a long drink. By the time I finished it and poured myself a third, I felt better, and the door to our bedroom opened. Kat and Rita came out, dressed in tennis outfits and looking delicious. I loved the short, pleated white skirts and tight, sleeveless shirts they were. Their hair, in ponytails, bounced gaily.
"Good morning, daddy!" Kat said and kissed me. Her breath was minty.
"How are you feeling, love?" Rita asked with a knowing smile.
"I'm slowly recovering my human form," I said.
They laughed.
"Do you still want to go meet the team plane?" Kat asked, her eyes dancing. She knew the answer.
"What time is it?" I asked.
"Eight thirty," Rita said.
"Fuck me, that's early," I said. "Who's damn-fool idea was that?"
Kat and Rita looked at each other and laughed but didn't say anything.
"It was mine, wasn't it?" I said.
They nodded at me.
"Yeah, I don't think I can do it," I said.
"Do a line, baby," Rita said.
"Or do you want a booty bump?" Kat suggested. "That's what we did before our shower."
"That sounds tempting," I said.
"Let's do it, daddy," Kat said. "Just bend over the counter."
"Fuck it," I said. "Yeah, let's do it."
Two minutes later, I was like a new man. Energy coursed through me. The xanax helped balance me out. The Champagne was more cold and refreshing than ever.
