As I smack random female hands away from the buttons of my formfitting, button-down black shirt, Griffin takes notice of the panicked look on my face and finally decides to come to my aid instead of instigating the drunk masses.
“All right, ladies, show’s over. We really do need to get going,” he shouts as he starts to walk backward through the crowd, pulling me along with him.
“But we want to see naked people!” someone argues and the crowd starts to boo and glare at us.
Jesus, who knew drunken bachelorettes were so angry?
There’s a knock at the door and Griffin turns away from me to open it as I hope and pray that it’s hotel security. I have a feeling these bitches aren’t going to let us out of here alive.
The door opens and my father stands there in the hotel hallway with one eyebrow raised questioningly.
“Paige sent me. She said you might need my help,” he tells Griffin as he takes in the scene behind us. Let’s just say, I’m pretty sure my father has never seen so many fake penis products in his entire life. The woman with the light-up penis earrings may just put him over the edge.
“A SILVER FOX!” the bride-to-be shouts when she sees my father.
I cover my ears and cringe as the screams of approval make it to new heights.
A group of screaming and giggling women shove Griffin and me out of the way, grab on to my dad’s arm and drag him into the room. I don’t feel the need to save my father because he’s a hard-ass. There’s no way he’ll let this go on for much longer; he won’t have the patience for it.
The women are fawning all over him at this point, running their hands through his hair and kissing his cheeks. Any second now he’s going to yell at all of them to back the fuck up.
Any second now…
“No, there must be some confusion. That’s my daughter and she’s not a stripper,” my dad tells them with a stern look as they start asking him questions about his “stripper partners.”
I sigh in relief that this will all be over soon and we can get the hell out of here.
“No, I’m serious. She’s not a stripper. She’s a hooker.”
“Oh dear God,” I mutter as they push my dad into the chair Griffin recently vacated and one woman straddles his lap.
I can’t look. This is just…Oh my God…I’m going to puke.
“Griffin! Do something!” I scold him as I point angrily in my dad’s direction while he looks up happily at the woman giving him a lap dance.
“Hey, Buddy! You need some help over there?” Griffin yells across the room to my dad.
“Nope. I got it under control. You two run along now. Go do some talking or something. Or better yet, go bust Kennedy’s back door and pay her for it so she gets in a better mood,” he yells back.
Griffin salutes my dad with a chuckle, grabs my hand, and pulls me out of the room. The door closes behind us just as a cheer erupts from inside and I can only imagine what is currently being done to my father.
GD drunk bachelorettes.
CHAPTER 17
All I know is, he didn’t come home until three in the morning and he fell asleep with a huge-ass grin on his face. And I’m pretty sure I saw stripper glitter sparkling in his hair when the light hit it. What the hell happened?” my brother Bobby asks Ted as he loads a round of bullets into his service pistol and takes aim at the paper target ten yards away.
I walk up behind them at the tail end of their conversation and try not to think about what could have put such a big smile on my dad’s face the previous night after Griffin and I left the hotel.
Every week since Bobby moved back in with my dad, the three of us meet at the indoor shooting range and throw out career ideas to him. It looks like this week Bobby’s future is not going to be the main topic of discussion.
I clear my throat softly behind them so as not to startle them—never a good idea with people holding loaded weapons. Ted turns around, puts his gun on the ledge, and immediately wraps his arm around my neck and tugs me into a headlock, rubbing his knuckles against my scalp.
“What up, sis? Ready to get your ass kicked today?” Ted says with a laugh as I punch my fists into his side until he finally lets me go.
“Jesus, Ted, grow up,” I complain as I stand back up and rub my sore head. We both stand silently in the lane at the indoor shooting range and watch Bobby fire off a few rounds, all but two hitting the center target.
“So, what’s new with you? Aside from the fact that you’re now a prostitute and Dad has decided to open a strip club?” Bobby asks as he steps back out of the lane and gestures for Ted to go next.
“Funny,” I tell him with a smack to his upper arm. “I’m still trying to catch this fucking bail jumper while attempting NOT to strangle Griffin in the process.”
Ted takes aim and unloads his clip into the target. Buddy laughs when half of them go wild and pierce the outer circle of the target.
“Son of a bitch! Something must be wrong with this gun. Here, you do something with it.” Ted steps back and I reach my hand out for it.
“Go easy on Griffin. He’s good people,” Ted tells me and I load the clip with more rounds.