“Since your fiancé pretty much forced-slash-kidnapped him into going to his bachelor party, I at least hope he’s enjoying a nice big slice of clitoris.” I took another hack at the shaft before freeing a piece so large, it could have fed an entire agency of runway models for a month. I dropped it onto a plate and held it out for Charlotte. “Enjoy the shaft.”
“I don’t know about the cake, but I’m sure he’s about to enjoy something . . . though enjoy might not be the right word for it.” Another wink was exchanged, this one less subtle than the first.
I rolled my eyes, then covered my mouth and gave them a show. “Oh no. Not a stripper. Please say the guys didn’t hire a stripper for their bachelor party.” My eyes went wide. “But Boone’s innocent eyes! Why, he’s never seen a naked woman before. I can’t stand for it. I won’t allow it. I must go save him.”
Charlotte and her friends were all tipping their heads at me, half of them looking like they believed my act.
Flattening my face, my eyes went back to normal, along with my voice. “Yeah, not worried. Or jealous if that’s the emotion you were trying to conjure out of me.” I hacked off another chunk of cake, the same size as the piece I’d just flung at Charlotte. Maybe if I fed them enough cake, we could all look like a bunch of sausages in our gowns on the wedding day. “I don’t care who shakes their fake boobies in his face or how much glitter is left on his crotch from her thong. I think our relationship can survive the lap dance waters.”
Charlotte stabbed her fork into her chunk of cake, twirling it around until she’d successfully pierced her slice of shaft. “Well, you might not mind whose fake titties are in his face tonight, but he might mind.”
The girls around Charlotte giggled, which sounded more like a chorus of cackles with the way it mixed with the next Top 40 song blasting through the club.
“Especially when it’s his sister’s fake titties doing the shaking.”
I froze, the knife mid-slice. The club was hot from all of the bodies, but an icy chill ran through my veins. “His sister?”
Other than mine, Avalee’s face was the only one locked in shock. The rest of the girls had expressions more resembling the smug one plastered on Charlotte’s face. They’d known. All of them. That was the whole reason Ford hadn’t taken Boone’s first fifty nos tonight. The only reason he’d wanted Boone to tag along so badly was because . . .
My stomach turned in on itself.
“Wren,” I said, not realizing I’d lifted the knife until Avalee came up and nudged me. I didn’t lower it. “She’s the stripper?”
“And if she’s prompt”—Charlotte checked the screen of her phone—“the glue on her pasties is probably drying as we speak.”
A dollop of frosting plopped onto the floor from the knife. I found myself wishing it was Charlotte’s blood instead.
“Why?” I asked, my voice quivering.
Charlotte shrugged, still laughing. “Why not?” She checked her phone again, probably waiting for the photo evidence Ford would no doubt send her. “Can you imagine the look on Boone’s face?” She shook her head, scrolling through something on her phone. “Actually, you won’t have to, because I’ll have the photos soon.”
Charlotte and the other girls kept laughing, shaking their heads at me like I was missing out on the humor of a great joke. I wanted to go all chop suey on every last one of them, so instead, I took my violence out on the cake.
After hacking off another serious piece of cake, I had to balance it on two plates to make it fit. Throwing the knife aside, I picked up the plates about to collapse from the weight of the cake and shoved them into Charlotte’s hands. I might have shoved the cake a bit harder than necessary, but getting frosting all over the top of her dress had been part of my plan.
“God, Clara Belle.” Charlotte gaped at the plates of cake in her hands and frosting splattered across her dress. “Do us a favor and start doubling up on your meds.”
“What can I say, Charlotte?” I grabbed my purse from beneath the table and flashed my arms at the chunk of cake she was still gaping at. “You’ve got balls. A serious set of big, hairy, ugly ones.”
I didn’t hang around to derive any satisfaction from the rage that no doubt crossed her face, because I knew I didn’t have a second to spare. From the sounds of it, I’d probably be too late anyway, but I had to try. I had to at least try to save him from what was coming.
I flew out of the club, freeing my phone from my purse and dialing Boone’s number the moment I broke through the outside doors. It went straight to voice mail. I tried again. Same thing.
After shrieking with frustration, I exchanged my phone for my keys buried in my purse and hustled into the parking lot. The party bus was parked front and center, just waiting to pick up the party where it had left off inside, but when I’d witnessed that thing rolling up my parents’ driveway, I’d uttered something to the effect of Hell no and told the girls I’d catch up with them at the club.