Command Performance

“I couldn’t stand her in college,” Heidi continued. “And she’s even worse now.”

“I admire your restraint,” Angie deadpanned. “You’re really doing everything you can to keep the drama out of Brittany’s bachelorette party. That’s a true friend.”

“I know, right? I couldn’t believe that Robin said the bridesmaid dresses are tacky. How could she say that? I love Britt’s sense of style. I think the dresses are sexy and colorful.”

Colorful? Angie bit down on her lip. Bile-green was a color, so Heidi was technically correct.

“And you can wear them again,” Heidi informed her.

Angie nodded slowly. “Sure.” But why would she want to go somewhere that required her to wear a bustier dress?

“Of course, Robin can’t let anything other than designer touch her skin.” Heidi crossed her arms and looked over her shoulder. “I think she’s just bitter because the dress didn’t come in vanity sizes. Her dress size is in double digits.”

Angie gritted her teeth. This was exactly why she preferred hanging out with the guys. She was tempted to put Heidi in a headlock and tell her to grow up. It always worked on Patrick but she had a feeling it would cause a meltdown for Heidi.

The strip club plunged into darkness and the spotlight zeroed in on Brittany. “Oh,” Heidi squealed as the DJ asked the bride-to-be to go on stage, “the strippers are going to give a special dance for Brittany. Go find a seat.”

Angie watched Heidi run to the edge of the stage, teetering dangerously on her silver stilettos. She took a deep breath. So what if she wore the wrong clothes? Who cared if she was too shy to grope a man? It didn’t mean she was sexually repressed, right? She could smile, clap and make sure everyone was having a good time. She was going to have fun tonight even if it killed her.

“What did she say about me?”

Angie jumped as Robin stood beside her. The woman’s orange beaded halter dress was so short that at first Angie thought it was meant to be a shirt. “Heidi? She said the strippers were going to dance for Brittany.”

“She was talking about me, wasn’t she?” Her sleek black ponytail bobbed as she nodded her head.

“No,” Angie lied.

Robin arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow. “She’s just mad because Britt loved the bridal party spa and that was my idea. We all needed it, don’t you think?”

Going to the spa had been a new experience for Angie. She had felt awkward in the hushed and ultrafeminine surroundings. The moment she had walked through the ornate doors, she had felt like a clumsy duck next to elegant swans. “You know, that was the first time I’ve been to a spa.”

“No need to tell me that. I’ve seen your cuticles,” Robin said. “But still, that event was designed to help the bride relax. And Britt has been incredibly stressed out.”

Angie wholeheartedly agreed with that. Brittany had a strong vision for the wedding and reception, but there were too many details to keep track of. Even with her highly efficient assistant and three bridesmaids at her beck and call, there had been a series of problems to solve. “Maybe if she started eating.”

“Don’t even say that!” Robin shook her head vigorously. “Not until after the wedding. She has to fit into that dress.”

No solid foods for a week? It sounded like torture to Angie. “The dress fits perfectly. She doesn’t have anything to worry about. But she should stop the liquid diet. It can make a person tired and irritable.”

R

obin’s eyes widened. “You think Britt is irritating?”

She really needed to be more careful with her words. Didn’t she know by now that the bridal party was a walking, talking minefield? All the competition, insecurities and petty jealousies. Angie already had a sneaky suspicion that being Brittany’s bridesmaid wasn’t going to strengthen their relationship. She needed to work harder if she wanted to stay friends with Patrick. “No, I said—”

The hot pink stage curtains were ripped back and five strippers stood silently on the dark stage. They wore black neckties and low-slung leather pants. Angie jumped, startled, as the women around her went wild.

Robin raised her arms and whooped with delight as the first few notes of “It’s Raining Men” played. Angie dutifully smiled and clapped as she watched the men start their routine around Brittany. The audacious choreography and frenetic lighting hid the fact that only a few were good dancers.

Angie’s mouth dropped when she saw Brittany eagerly lay on the stage as one of the strippers straddled her. No one could accuse the bride-to-be of being shy. Brittany enjoyed the special attention.

The men had lean, athletic builds. Angie admired the hard abs and strong arms. She knew the work they had to put into getting sculpted bodies. They were attractive. Sexy. But she didn’t feel the need to go crazy at the sight of them.

Perhaps it was because she worked as a personal trainer and was surrounded by muscular men every day. Or it could be that she felt self-conscious having a man gyrate in her face until she stuffed money in his sequined thong.

Or it could be none of those reasons. It could be that she wasn’t acting as assertive and enthusiastic as the other women because she couldn’t let go of her inhibitions. She tried that before. She had felt safe when she was with Cole. She knew she could be as outrageous and as daring as she wanted. She’d played out her deepest, darkest fantasies with him.

And then he dumped her. She was hurt and humiliated. Was she more mild than wild? Was she unable to compete with other women? She was afraid of the answer and had kept the sensual side of herself under wraps ever since.