Rich Groom (The Dirty Thirty Pledge 1)

Honestly, this place would be at home in any big city, with enough class to satisfy higher end customers and enough hometown charm to make pretty much anybody comfortable enough to hang out and have a drink.

There’s a commotion over by the bar, and all of a sudden, I hear chanting. “Dirty! Thirty! Dirty! Thirty!” I groan and cringe, glancing toward the bar. Nothing like your friends reminding you about the idiocy of your younger days. I had hoped that we might forget about that. They clearly haven’t. And now that I’ve come straight from seeing Anna, I don’t want to be reminded of the thing that broke us up in the first place.

But I can’t help but smile, because Glenn and Wallace are grinning at me from the bar, because I came to see them. We talk regularly about the business, but it’s different seeing each other in person. I give them a wave to get Glenn, who’s still chanting, to shut the hell up since everyone in the bar is staring. Jesus. I approach and keep that smile on my face.

Glenn is standing behind the bar as I slide onto an empty stool, a towel thrown over his shoulder like a proper bartender. “Well, if it isn’t the prodigal son returning, deigning to grace us with his big-city presence.”

I laugh. “You see me every month during the conference call. And there’s plenty of room in the big city for you to visit too, you know.”

“It’s a bit busy around here, as you can see.”

“The place looks great. And full,” I say, holding out my hand and shaking his. We reach over the bar for a half hug. “You’ve done a good job keeping the brand alive so I can do whatever I want.”

Glenn rolls his eyes. I pull my weight with the company and especially our huge Nashville location, but it’s worth noting the extraordinary amount of work that Glenn has put in and continues to. It benefits everyone.

“It just keeps getting bigger,” Wallace says, cutting in with a hand on my shoulder. “There’s lines around the block, Frankie. People are crazy for this place, especially with the festival in town.”

I smile. “That’s good to hear.”

“‘Bout time we saw you around here again,” Wallace says. “You ready for your epic thirty celebration?”

“I have to make it that far first. Scouting the festival for talent and seeing my family. Catching up on things. Then I’ll be ready for that.”

Wallace gives me a sympathetic glance. Family isn’t always easy, and I haven’t seen them in a few years. It’ll be an interesting reunion. Hopefully a good one. My grandmother isn’t getting any younger—another reason I decided to make the trip. I’d be an idiot not to take the chance to see her while I still can.

“Two weeks,” Glenn says, obviously gearing up. “And then we get to celebrate our oldest member in glorious debauchery, right?”

I roll my eyes. “Right.” Internally I’m begging him not to go there. But it’s Glenn, so I know that he will.

“It’s not like you don’t already know this, but I don’t see a ring on that finger,” he says. “So allow Wallace and me to help you prepare for your month-long binge of pleasure.”

“You’re serious?” I ask as he slides a beer across the bar to me.

Wallace knocks back what’s left in his glass. “Deadly. We made a pledge.”

“Yeah,” I say, “and that was a million fucking years ago. I thought we’d have grown past that by now.”

We’ve had this conversation before and always laughed it off, and I really thought that we’d all kind of moved on. We’re business owners and entrepreneurs, and at this point it isn’t exactly a hardship for us to get women. But they’re both looking at me now like I’ve grown a second dick.

I sigh. In high school, none of us were particularly popular or sexy. We did our best. And we were horny as fuck, like most teenagers are. So we made a pledge. The Dirty Thirty pledge. That if we were still single by the time we were thirty, we’d embark on a month-long quest: Thirty girls in thirty days. At the time it seemed like a fucking dream, infinite sex and no responsibility.

For forever, that was the holy grail. The three of us held onto that goal like it was a lifeline. We made a list of the girls in town that we wanted to have a chance with when we turned thirty, if they were still around. And part of me was determined to stay single just so I could do this thing. We thought it was some kind of rite of passage or vision quest that would launch us into the rest of our manhood.

But all of that changed with Annabelle. And now that I might have a second chance with her? There’s no way that I’m doing this.