Chapter Eight

                                    

                                          
Chapter Eight
Wade
The car is silent as we drive through the deserted roads.
Monroe is sitting across from me inside his limo. The tension inside the car makes my legs bounce in restlessness. My friend confirmed that almost all the women we talked about will be there, and I'm thinking twice about whether to approach them—or simply forget that I know all about their basic information to their dirty little secrets.
Or maybe, I should just focus on Carmichael and not second-guess my choice anymore.
Monroe's phone vibrates, and I watch as he reads the message. By the look on his face, it must've been bad news.
"What's going on?" I ask.
Monroe looks up, immediately shaking his head, "Nothing." He places his phone in his pocket and puts on his Airpods, effectively tuning me out.
I decide not to push.
It was like a week ago when we had been getting along, joking, and having drinks at our favorite five-star bar. Like brothers, as cliché as it may sound. But now, after two decades of friendship and girl trouble, we seem to be drifting apart, from brothers to acquaintances.
Monroe has been nonchalant about the situation... but in a bad way. He's been distant, but the glow on his face is still there. At least one of us is having a good love life. Sigh.
After a thirty-minute drive, we arrive at the Harris' modern-styled mansion. Music that's loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood enters the limo when we open the door.
A sense of awe washes over my face as the guards allow us inside. Pink, blue, and red lights that are buried on the ground, covered with thick, transparent glass, and the strobe lights hanging from the tall trees surrounding the mansion, make the place look intimate. There's also a huge fountain in the middle of the car's entryway, but the spot is surrounded by a cluster of people I either recognize or am unfamiliar with.
"Man, Bryan went over the top with this." I hear Monroe mutter beside me.
I turn toward the direction where Monroe's eyes are headed. Four strippers are dancing in a transparent cage beneath a huge, makeshift stage, wearing nothing but what I recognize are expensive Armani blazers and killer heels.
"Thought you were taken."
Monroe's eyes widen before his face grows impassive. "That's what I said."
He then saunters forward, leaving me behind without another glance. I shrug.
Well then, let the night begin.
Megan
Never in the past month's preparations did I imagine that Bryan would come up with such a demeaning, very much bachelor-ish birthday celebration.
This is the least anyone would expect from such an honorable businessman, but what do I know? I did my best to avoid this side of the world. Maybe Bryan isn't the first one to launch a party like this, seeing that almost ninety percent of the people look unsurprised.
I try my hardest to avoid looking at the unmarred, velvety-soft figures of naked women—swaying their hips sensually, making love with the poles—in the center of the massive living room. Purple and yellow lights kiss their skin, as their moves become dirtier and more arousing.
I had mulled over my decision while I was on my way here more times than I could count. If I'm honest, it isn't really Bryan.
I can avoid him if I really want to. It's mainly because of the fact that I can barely blend in at a high-profile businessman's party. Most people here are in the political world in one way or another. Old ones and even the rookies in this field will surely be my source of misery for tonight.