Chapter 4

Friday morning the light came through the curtains in hard white bars. Jack ordered coffee, sat on the balcony again and put the finishing touches on his speech. He finished the last of the coffee on the balcony while the Strip still looked half-asleep in the morning light. He showered, dressed in yesterday’s shorts and a clean shirt, and headed out on foot. A few blocks off the main drag he found a greasy 24-hour diner that smelled of old fryer oil, burnt coffee, and the sweet edge of maple syrup. He took a stool at the counter and ordered the full plate: eggs over easy, hash browns crisp on the outside and soft underneath, bacon that still had some chew. The food landed heavy and perfect.

Halfway through the eggs his phone buzzed with a number he didn’t recognize.

Hey Jack. It’s Maggie. Heard about you and Layla. Sorry, that sucks, but it’s her loss! Claire said she’s been helping you forget all about her ... I promise we’re going to make this weekend very memorable for you. Very. 😘

Jack read it once, then again, slower. Memorable could mean a hundred different things coming from Maggie. A wild party. An invitation into whatever she and AJ had going. Something quieter and more personal. He stared at the screen a third time, the diner noise fading for a second, then decided there was no point trying to decode it. Knowing her, it could mean anything and probably would.

Jack wiped his fingers on a napkin and typed back.

So you heard about Claire huh. She is great a very pleasant surprise for sure. Looking forward to the rest of the weekend!

He set the phone down, finished the plate, and decided the smart move was to lay low. The night could go anywhere. He walked back to the hotel, closed the blackout curtains until the room was nearly dark, and stretched out on the bed. Sleep took him fast and deep. When he woke the clock read past four. He took his time under the shower, shaved clean, and dressed in navy dress pants and a soft golf shirt that still held the faint smell of hotel laundry. A cab dropped him at Obsidian just before eight.

The place sat in a converted warehouse district off the Strip, all brick and iron on the outside. Inside the private room the air was cool and smelled of melted wax and expensive perfume. Polished black concrete floors threw back the light from massive pillar candles. Exposed steel beams ran overhead, draped in sheer silk that moved with the air conditioning. Down the center of the room a long, reflective water feature served as a runway-style dining table, the surface mirror-still until someone walked past. A full-length curtain closed off the back half of the space, keeping the dinner party intimate.

AJ spotted him first and came over with that same loose, wide-open grin he’d had since they were kids climbing the fence. Maggie was right beside him in a short black dress that left most of her legs bare. She looked exactly as dangerous as Jack remembered.

“There he is,” AJ said, pulling him into a hard one-armed hug. “You made it.”

“Wouldn’t miss it.”

Maggie leaned in and kissed his cheek, lingering half a second longer than polite. “You look good, Jack. Better than someone in your shoes should look.”

Jack gave them the short version while they stood near the entrance: the night before graduation, Layla climbing off him mid-ride, the clean-start speech, the quiet that followed. AJ winced in the right places. Maggie watched him with open interest.

AJ shook his head. “Damn. I still remember fucking her a couple of times when I was a sophomore and she was a freshman. Before you two ever met. I should have told you before now. Man she could take a pounding.”

Jack nodded. “No worries. She told me the night we went to your show in Birmingham. Said you were the first guy who ever made her come more than once in a single night.”

AJ laughed under his breath. “Best I’ve ever had, hands down.”

“Same,” Jack said. “No contest.”

Maggie tilted her head, smiling. “I’d have liked to fuck her sometime. She looked like she knew how to use that body.”

Jack met her eyes. “I’d have paid good money to watch that. But I don’t think she’s into girls.”

Maggie chuckled, low and warm. She stared straight into his eyes and rested her fingers lightly on his forearm. “Maybe not. But I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”

The three of them moved to the bar along the side wall. The bartender was already pouring. One by one the other women filtered over and the introductions started. Candice, Maggie’s sister and maid of honor, gave him a polite smile and a firm handshake. Jasmine was quieter, assessing. Then Ingrid and Tori stepped up together, both in dresses that left little to the imagination.

Ingrid looked him up and down without shame. “Claire wasn’t kidding. I definitely missed out by skipping the pool yesterday. She said the best man was a straight-up hottie.”

Tori grinned and sipped her drink. “She also said you have a nice cock and you know how to use it. We definitely missed out.”

Jack took a slow drink of the whiskey the bartender had set in front of him. “Claire talks too much. But she wasn’t lying about the second part.”

Both women laughed. The air around the bar loosened.

The rest of the band showed up twenty minutes late, exactly as expected. Lucas, Rodney, and Matt Williamson pushed through the door in various states of wrinkled shirts and open collars, still carrying the leftover heat of whatever they’d been doing since the Bunny Ranch. Lucas clapped Jack on the shoulder hard enough to spill a little whiskey.