Gabriel introduces me to all twelve of them and when he’s finished, I’m swimming in names that I can’t quite remember. The only one that sticks is Noah, a skinny guy in a loose hemp shirt with a long beard, Gucci leather loafers, and a gold Rolex on his wrist. He can’t seem to pick which style to commit to—preppy or hipster. I only remember his name because he’s the best man and is the one throwing this extravagant party.
“This guy and his bros are the best investors on the planet!” Gabriel says, already more than a bit tipsy. “He’s paid for all this!”
They all jump up and slap my back, treating me like a rockstar as I’m handed a champagne flute. Ugh. Ten grand a bottle and it’s not even good.
I helped grow the money, but it was his father’s brains and hard work that made it all possible. I doubt the conservative Mr. Brown would have approved of this lavish spending.
“So, you’re getting married!” I say to him. “Who’s the lucky girl?”
“I got drunk and fell down some stairs,” he says with a laugh. “I chipped my tooth and when I woke up from my haze, I saw the most beautiful dental technician in the world hovering over me. She looked like an angel and I knew I was in love.”
He’s a bit of a douche with the fancy car and expensive champagne, but I can’t help but have a pang in my heart when I hear the story. I want a love story like that. A love that hits me like a jolt of lightning and never lets up.
“Gentleman,” Noah says as he raises his arms. “Our chariot awaits. Let’s get on board.”
I’m laughing along with the guys as we hop onto the huge yacht. It’s unbelievable. I keep expecting a rich Arab prince to pop out and ask us what the hell we’re doing on his boat.
I run my hand over the smooth polished teak as we walk to the pool area. Two tall skinny blond guys named Eivind and Knut, brothers from Norway, take our bags.
There’s hip hop blasting over the speakers as we arrive at the gorgeous pool and huge bar with the ocean backdrop behind it.
“Yeah!” the guys holler as six topless girls dance out of a room. Tits are swinging and g-strings are pulled up as they dance over with beers in their hands. They hand us each one and then with winks and blown kisses, they head over to the bar and start dancing on top of it.
“I told you boys this was going to be a lit party!” Noah shouts before chugging his beer.
I force out a smile, but this is not what I had in mind. I’m not interested in any strippers. I’m ready to move on from that phase in a man’s life.
Two of them start making out and the guys cheer. Now, I really wish that Westin had come instead of me. If anything, I would have loved to have seen the look of disapproval on his face when he saw those high heels walking on the immaculate teak floors.
“Are these girls going to be with us the whole time?” I ask one of the guys—Kevin or Karl or something that starts with a K.
“I hope so!” he says as he rushes over to the bar. The female bartender is lining up shots. She’s a pretty girl if you’re into piercings. She’s got them everywhere—lips, eyebrows, nose, and enough in her ears to sink the Titanic.
I take a deep breath and look around. This yacht is really incredible. Something only a billionaire could afford, or a millionaire who won’t be a millionaire for long if they keep burning money like this.
While the guys are doing the shots and dancing with the strippers, I head inside to find a room. There’s a carved nameplate on the side of each door. Kevin. Marcus. Luke.
I grin as I head inside. They gave me one of the two master suites, complete with a bathroom, fireplace, and a walk-in closet.
The music is vibrating through the floor as I gaze out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the water. This beats New York City any day even if I do have to share it with a bunch of men stuck in their college days.
“Knock knock,” a guy with a thick Norwegian accent says as he stands at the door. “I have your bag here, sir.”
“Thanks, Knut,” I say as I get off the bed, looking at his name tag as I take my bag from him. “Hey, do you know if these girls are going to be staying with us the entire time?”
“They charge by the hour, so I certainly hope not,” he says with a goofy grin. “I suspect they will be left on the dock by the time we pull up anchor and sail away to the Bahamas.”