I didn't believe it myself, well, not at first anyway. Even when I saw the evidence with my own eyes, I knew there had to be a logical explanation—I knew the real truth but I was the only one who believed that truth.
I don't remember much of what happened that night, only that Kevin was given a formal send-off from the ranks of carefree and single to those of wedded bliss.
For me it all started the week after Kevin and Amy came back from their honeymoon. After four months it still hadn't ended. Kate was going to get her pound of flesh from me no matter what the cost.
In a court of law I would have said, "Guilty As Charged", but I would also have thrown myself on the mercy of the court. Even some criminals get amnesty if they cooperate with the court and do whatever is necessary to make amends for their crimes. Didn't I deserve the same treatment? I hadn't killed anyone, though I guess what I did, or what was done to me—while under the influence—still wasn't a good enough defense. Leavenworth and even Alcatraz would have been a walk in the park compared to the prison she sentenced me to.
For months, I held out hope for an early release because of good behavior, or for a pardon from the governor—neither of which materialized. I was facing life without parole unless I could convince the prosecutor to drop the charges. But she wouldn't listen. So, I cut my own deal and split. I was now free. Or was I really, and even if I was, at what cost?
We had reserved a few rooms at the hotel. None of us were driving anywhere that night. With an open bar in the party room we rented the alcohol flowed freely, and only two hours into the night I had already exceeded my normal limit.
Take seventeen crazy guys, stir in an open bar, a few card games, add two strippers, and finally top it off with the video capabilities of their smart phones—and what you have is a recipe for disaster. And a disaster is what it became.
The last thing I vaguely remember was being in a beer chugging contest. I'm told I came in fourth out of five guys because my last swallow, instead of going down my throat, gushed out my nose when I ran out of air. I have never been much of a drinker and I know for certain that at sometime during that evening I puked somewhere, though even that memory is a bit sketchy. When the party ended someone must have poured me into one of the beds because I woke the next morning lying flat on my back in one of the rooms. For a brief moment I thought I was dead, or wished I was when I found it incredibly painful to even blink much less breathe.
The groom-to-be was still passed out on the bed next to me, and two others were camped out on the floor. Guess they hadn't made it to the other bed last night. It must have been one hell of a finish to the party. It's too bad I don't remember much of it.
I somehow managed to call room service. I ordered a couple pots of black coffee for each room and gingerly made my way over to the bathroom. Looks like I wasn't the only one who had made a deposit. There was vomit in the toilet as well as the sink. And the smell? Well, let's just say, what's in a person's stomach should stay in a person's stomach, and leave it at that. I cleaned it up the best I could, knowing guiltily the maid would have to do the rest.
I spent the next ten minutes in the shower trying to wash with the tiniest bar of soap on the planet, dropping it so many times I finally just sat my ass on the floor of the tub and finished. I flossed and brushed my teeth, my mouth still tasted foul. I needed coffee, lots of coffee.
One by one the zombies started to move, very ungracefully I might add. After last night it was a wonder they were still breathing much less standing, let alone walking. No one talked, I'm not sure if they even could, only it wasn't happening yet.
With two pots pf coffee under our belts and another couple of pee breaks the dead were starting to come back to life. I called down to the desk and requested a late checkout. The girl at the desk laughed, saying she'd already put us down for one. She asked if we needed any body bags sent up—looks like we'd made quite an impression.
Thankfully, I'd brought clean clothes. Most of the others hadn't and were sorry this morning. Kevin was still out cold. I finally checked for a pulse just to make sure he was still alive. It was faint and slow, but he'd make it to his wedding next Saturday. An ice-cold washcloth on his forehead brought him back to life with a jolt like he'd been hit with a defibrillator.
"Guys, we've got to be out of here in an hour, so I highly suggest we get moving." Gary puked once more in the toilet for good measure. David stood there motionless gazing out the window with a cup of coffee in his hand, and Kevin finally sat up, putting the washcloth on the back of his neck. He refused coffee but thankfully used the mouthwash in the bathroom. It became my responsibility to get him back to his apartment this morning. Fifteen minutes later I was checking on the other three rooms, and like ours there were a lot of near death experiences.
Everyone was finally upright and moving, just not very fast or steady. On our way out I slipped the housekeeper a couple twenties and told her 'sorry.' In the car I left my window down while I watched Kevin buckle his seat belt, close his eyes, and go back to sleep. I just prayed he wouldn't get sick in my car.
At thirty-two years old, Kevin was the last member of our group to finally tie the knot. He and Amy had been together for three years, living together for two, when out of the blue he decided to propose to her. "It was time," was the only reason he gave. Instead of having this huge formal gala, they decided to have a small intimate wedding, limiting it to immediate family and close friends. They figured instead of blowing a ton of money on a huge wedding, it would be better spent for the down payment on a cute house they had their eyes on. They were moving on with their lives together.
Amy told Kevin to get everything out of his system on the night of his bachelor party, because seven days later he was hers forever. She wasn't a big one for drinking, refused to allow anyone to smoke in their apartment, and was going to try her best to keep a confirmed bachelor in line after the wedding. So Kevin was told he had one night, and one night only, to blow off some steam and get everything out of his system. And he did just that.
I don't know who brought in the two girls, but they were no nuns. Kevin sampled their wares at least once that night. The blonde had to be no older than twenty-two and the black girl maybe a couple of years older. They weren't bad looking, were built for comfort, and weren't at all bashful, if you know what I mean. I saw more than a few guys fooling around with one or the other, but I stayed clear preferring to eat the finger foods and take advantage of the open bar. There was no way I was going to screw up what I had waiting for me at home. Besides, I was having a hard enough time standing much less doing anything else.
Days later someone told me the bartender had put my drunken body in a chair at one of the card games. That answered the nagging question of what happened to the fifty dollars I'd brought to gamble with.
As I said in the beginning, alcohol and cell phones should never be used at the same time. People got crazy, videos were shot, and in the end a lot of people went brain dead and did things they normally wouldn't have done. Not me, I was way too drunk. So, after dropping Kevin off at his apartment I returned home, putting that drunken night behind me—I thought.
The wedding was informal and fun. Amy wanted it on the beach at sunset, but getting permission from the city got to be a real nightmare. When she was informed they would also need a police officer on duty, and it was their responsibility to pay the officer, the two of them changed their plans slightly. So, at eight thirty on Saturday evening, a week after the bachelor party, thirty-six people walked out onto the beach, held a quick impromptu marriage ceremony, after which everyone headed for a local restaurant where they had rented a room.
The food was good, the party fun, and two hours later the bride and groom left for places unknown. Everything went off without a hitch.
When Kevin got back from the honeymoon a bunch of us guys got together. Some of the idiots showed everyone a few of the videos they'd taken. Kevin told them that it would probably be best if they deleted them. "Guys, it was one hell of a party, but I'm married now and I sure as hell don't want to piss off my new bride." He picked up his beer. "To Amy and my long and fruitful life with her!" he shouted, as everyone toasted his new wife and their future together. Life was good.
How the pictures and videos got around and on the net was anyone's guess. No one would admit to it, and it could only have been one of the sixteen other guys that were there. No, make that fifteen because I know I didn't video anything, and Kevin sure as hell wouldn't have done it.
No matter who did it, or for what reason, the videos took on a life of their own. One wife saw them on her husband's phone and then another, and finally everyone at that damn party had to answer delicate questions as to what happened that night and who did what.
Kevin personally called and chewed out every one of us not knowing which was responsible.
"Kevin, do I have stupid tattooed across my forehead?" is how I answered his questions. "I was in no shape to do much of anything that night. If it were me though, I'd be asking those three guys from your work. I heard more than one guy say they always had their cell phone in their hands and were texting most of the night."
"Steve, I didn't think it was you, but I had to ask. Amy is pissed, not because I did anything, but what I did do was now out there for the world to see. She's getting advice from everyone who's seen them on what to do with me."
"Shit, I hope the two of you don't break up because of this." It was now totally out of hand.
"Not a chance. She told me I had a get out of jail card for that night, but I'll be on a short leash for quite a while. I've already been to the clinic to get a fucking blood test just to be on the safe side. It'll blow over for me, but there were a lot of other guys that have a lot of explaining to do. You didn't by chance get involved?"
"Thankfully, I didn't do a damn thing. Hell, I was so drunk I probably wouldn't have been able to do anything even if I wanted to." We both laughed at that.
"Well, I'm going to call a few buddies of mine and find out why the fuck they posted the videos on You Tube. Some people just don't have any common sense, you know that?" I agreed with him on that point.
A couple of the wives sloughed it off as their husbands being brain dead, others got mad, but the third group went ballistic. Thank God, I hadn't done anything. When Kate asked me about it, I said I'd done nothing. She smiled. We made love that night. Life was still good.
On Thursday Kate came home from work and asked me straight out if I'd seen the videos.
"No, frankly I haven't and see no reason to. I was there, so I think I know what was going on, that is until I passed out."
"Well, Laurie gave me a copy and thinks I should watch one of them in particular. You can't think of any reason I need to, can you?"
"Honey, I was a good boy all night, unless you count me over-indulging a little, that is. If you want to watch them, go right ahead. This way you can see for yourself what I didn't do." I was the one smiling, for now, anyway.
