Sebastian
“I’m getting married tomorrow!” Boden yells through the heavy beat of the bass in the bar’s too-loud sound system. He slams down his shot glass before throwing it back.
We all follow suit—all twenty of us. Ten males, ten females all gathered in one section of a strip club on the Las Vegas strip.
This would be most men’s heaven. Half-naked women are dancing all around and over us. We have unlimited alcohol, and the only thing that will stop us is the night ending, which by the look of the happy couple, should have already ended. But it’s just past eleven at night—the night is still young.
Boden, the groom, is getting handsier and handsier with the woman dancing all over him as he tucks dollar bills into her thong. While Oaklee, the bride, keeps getting more and more sloshed, pretending she’s completely okay with what her soon to be husband is doing. She’s not, but she won’t start her marriage by nagging.
“Can I get you another drink?” A waiter wearing tight black shorts and a shirt that barely covers her double D boobs asks me. She picks up the shot glasses littering the table in front of me.
Before I can answer, I feel all surrounding eyes on me. My brother, Kade, looks at me with suspicion. My sister-in-law, Larkyn, looks at me with pride in her eyes like she knows I’m going to say the right thing. My friend, Shepherd, looks at me nervously, like he’s going to be the one to pick up the pieces if I fall off the wagon.
It’s been over ten years—over a decade of sobriety. And still, everyone thinks that I’m one mistake from falling back into my old ways. I’m not a twenty-something alcoholic anymore. I’m not addicted to drugs. I’m sober. I’m clean.
I haven’t put one toe out of step this entire time, but the way all of my friends and family are acting, it’s clear they think I am one wrong choice away from turning into the old Sebastian—the fuck up. The boy who was hell-bent on destroying my own life by drinking away the pain.
They’re right. That’s the life of an addict. I’m always one wrong choice away from throwing away all the work I’ve done, but that’s why I live the way I do. I don’t put myself into these situations often. I don’t go to bars, strip clubs, or anywhere with temptation.
The only reason I’m in the most tempting place of all is because my best friend is getting married—the last of my friend group to do so. I wouldn’t miss it, even though he chose the worst place in the world for a recovering addict like me.
When Boden told me, he was the only one not concerned that I might slip into old habits. He doesn’t understand that for an addict like me, I’m either drinking or recovering, there is no middle ground. It’s something I’ve learned running a healing and recovery center with Larkyn—you are either doing the program, or you’re an addict. Once you stop, it’s all over.
“Just a club soda with lime, thanks,” I say.
The waitress smiles at me before getting Shepherd’s o
rder.
“See, told you he wouldn’t slip up,” Larkyn says, giving me a wink as she snuggles into Kades’s shoulder.
He looks at me with a tightness in his jaw and a squint to his eyes like he doesn’t believe me. But then, he never does. He’s my older brother, he’s married, has three children, and an empire to run. He still looks at me as the screwup. I’m single and work for my sister-in-law, not exactly grown-up in his eyes. He thinks the only way I can be happy and show that I’m an adult is if I live my life like him—married with kids.
He doesn’t realize that’s exactly what would cause me to fall back into old habits.
The waitress returns with our drinks, and I take my drink that looks like a mixed vodka drink. I don’t usually care to order drinks that make me feel like I’m drinking, but here in this club, I just want to fit in with as few questions as possible.
Oaklee stumbles over onto the couch I’m sitting on. We all turn our attention to her. She’s wearing a white dress complete with a sash that reads ‘bride’ and a sparkly tiara. Her outfit is screaming for attention, but her eyes keep cutting over to Boden, whose buttoned-down shirt is now open as a woman dances over him with her tits in his face.
“So, are you ready to get married tomorrow?” Larkyn asks her.
“Of course, I’ve never been more excited,” Oaklee answers, pretending to look at Larkyn, but still staring at her fiancé.
“What about you, Sebastian? When are you getting married?” Val, one of the bridesmaids, asks, as she sits on Shepherd’s, her husband’s, lap.
I frown at her but notice that her question has even gained the attention of Oaklee. So I guess it’s worth it to make Oaklee feel better while, Boden, my best friend, makes an ass of himself. Oaklee seems cool, but she’s not that cool. She may not bring this up for years to come, but someday, she will. When they are fighting about whose turn it is to cook dinner, or why he bought another bottle of fancy liquor when they can barely afford to pay for little Oaklee’s dance classes, this will come back up. And on that day, Boden will wish he had listened to me when I told him having strippers at a joint bachelor and bachelorette party was a bad idea. There is one male stripper, but other than one obligatory striptease, Oaklee hasn’t let him anywhere near her. While Boden has been attached to one stripper or another all night.
“Not anytime soon,” I chuckle and give her a wicked grin making it seem like I like playing the field. Really, it’s just self-preservation keeping me from getting married. Every person here is married, or is about to be married, except me. We are in our mid-thirties. That’s what happens. I’m the only lone wolf left, and it’s going to stay that way.
Val rolls her eyes at me as she strokes her husband’s face. “You just don’t realize what you’re missing. Still such a boy.”
I take a deep breath to stop from bulldozing over her and telling her that I’m not a boy. I’m all man. Choosing not to get married doesn’t make me a boy. She thinks I spend my nights plowing into any girl I can get into my bed. Sure, I fuck often, but I treat every woman I’m with well. I’m not a playboy. I just don’t want to get married.
“What about Simone? I thought you two were getting serious?” Oaklee asks, looking at me with big red-shot eyes, slurring her words. I stare at the drink in her hand. She’s had more than enough to drink tonight, but she has no intention of stopping anytime soon. This is her last night of freedom. Her last night to party before marriage, and she’s not going to let her soon to be husband outdo her, even though we all know he can drink her under the table.
“Nah, we weren’t serious. We only dated two months,” I answer.
“For you, that’s a long time.”