“With you on your knees, I’m sure I’ll be coming real soon. Let’s go, sugar. It’s time to get wet and slippy.”
“YOU look bored, Ollie,” Daniel said to his brother. Oliver shrugged, just adding veracity to Daniel’s observation. “Which is weird, ’cause there are naked women and all, and I know you’re into that kind of thing.”
“Yeah,” Oliver said blandly, reaching for his soda. “What is this, like the fourth strip club we’ve been to?”
“Seventh,” Asher replied.
“They’re all starting to blend together or something.” Oliver shrugged again and then squirmed in his chair. “Plus, these wood chairs are really uncomfortable and there’s not enough room to stretch my legs. It’s like they furnished this place for hobbits.”
“I have a suggestion that might help with all those things,” Asher supplied helpfully.
“What’s that?” Oliver asked.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here and never come back,” Asher replied dryly.
“But it’s our last night in Vegas,” Oliver whined. “It’s too early to go home yet. I’m all out of gambling money. We’ve already eaten dinner. And I’m pretty sure we’ll all die of alcohol poisoning if we go to another bar.” Oliver sighed dramatically and slumped in his chair. “There’s nothing else to do.”
Daniel hopped up, knocked over a glass, which was, thankfully, empty, and almost tripped over the table leg before getting his balance and beaming down at Oliver. “I have a great idea,” he exclaimed. “Let’s go dancing.”
“I don’t know, Danny. None of us is really into that.” Oliver gestured at the other men around the table.
“Speak for yourself,” Oliver’s service buddy said. “I love cutting a rug.” He stood up from the table.
“Me too,” the other man agreed. “Let’s dance.”
Asher climbed to his feet. “And I’m happy to go anywhere that isn’t here.” He looked down at Oliver, who was the only man still sitting. “Come on, Ollie. Let’s go make all those single ladies eat their hearts out when they see you move and then hear you’re off the market.”
He gave himself a metaphorical pat on the back for successfully making that compliment sound completely insincere with nothing but the power of voice inflection. Sometimes it was the little things that made life worth living. After three straight days frequenting titty bars, insulting Oliver most definitely qualified as one of those times.
“Fine,” Oliver grumbled. “But I’ve got two left feet, so one of you is going to have to show me how to dance.”
“I’ll teach you, Ollie,” Daniel said excitedly. “You’ll be dancing like a pro in no time. Come on.” He reached for Oliver and knocked down yet another glass, then snapped his arm back and elbowed a stranger at the next table.
Daniel apologized profusely and Asher turned his head so he wouldn’t see him laughing. The last thing he wanted to do was insult Daniel, especially since his desire to go dancing was liberating them all from that strip club, but the idea of Daniel, who could barely walk without tripping, teaching anybody how to dance was hilarious.
“HEY.” Oliver leaned over Asher’s shoulder and spoke directly into his ear so he could be heard over the thumping music. “What do you say we call it a night?”
Asher twisted around on his barstool so he could see the dance floor. As he’d been the entire night, Daniel was there, laughing with his latest dance partners and moving gracefully. The current song had a fast techno beat and Daniel somehow rolled his body with the sound, one hand in the air and the other on his chest while he gyrated his hips.
Asher sighed deeply and glanced back at Oliver. The expression on Oliver’s face indicated that he was well past ready to go. No real surprise there. It was three in the morning and they’d been out all day and night. Half of the bachelor party brigade had already gone back to the hotel and it was apparent that Oliver was itching to join them.
“’S not last call yet,” Asher slurred.
“We’re in Vegas, Asher. There’s no such thing as last call.”
“That’s right. We’re in Vegas, baby! I’m just getting started.”
“Oh, God. I’m so embarrassed for you right now. You sound like a jackass. I have no idea what’s gotten into you on this trip.”
“Your brother, that’s what.”
“My brother has gotten into you?” Oliver smirked and raised one eyebrow.
“Shut up. You know what I mean.”
Asher thumped his forehead on the bar and Oliver sat down next to him.
“Yeah, I know what you mean. And I think Danny’s better off without you, but he doesn’t seem to agree.”
“Gee, thanks, Ollie. I appreciate the support.”
“Hey, we’ve known each other too long to start lying now. Can you blame me for wanting my brother to be with a guy who knows how to have a relationship that lasts after sunrise and doesn’t involve bruises?”
Asher rolled his head to the side and tried to land his bleary gaze on Oliver. He was more tired than drunk. Or maybe he was both.