Anchor - M. Mabie Page 0,51

we can head to wherever the hell it is you guys are taking me.”

“No, I mean about being married.”

Now I’d only met Shane a few times; I was much more familiar with Reggie. We hadn’t had much time to shoot the shit. From what I knew about him, he was pretty laid-back, and for the past few months, he'd been doing better since his divorce a year or so ago. Of course, all of this information was second-hand from Blake.

I tipped back my beer and thought about what he’d asked. Was I ready? It didn’t take long to land on the only answer that felt right.

“Am I afraid I won’t make her happy enough? Sometimes. Am I ready to do every fucking thing in my power to see that she is? You’re damn right. We’ve been waiting for this, or hoping for it really, for a long time. Blake’s the one for me.” I looked him in the eye. He didn’t have the aggressive aura about him like Reggie though. His was a quiet type. He’d been there. He’d had a wife. And, as shitty as it was, it didn’t last.

So having him ask me if I was ready almost felt more like a warning, because he’d probably be able to see if shit was heading south. It was my job to make sure it didn’t.

“Good. She’s a good girl. She keeps a lot of things to herself, like I do. I know you probably don’t see that side of her, but it’s in there. Just make sure you’re always looking for what she’s trying to tell you. If I know anything, it’s all about not hearing what a woman was saying.” He chuckled. “Hell, mine was telling me she wasn’t happy for a long time. Probably before we ever got married.”

“Well, I’m not saying Blake always tells me what’s on her mind, but I‘d like to think somehow she lets me know when she needs me. Does that make sense?” Shit was getting deep. I thought this night was supposed to be about being wild and taking things to excess. So far it was just five dudes at my house having a beer and talking about relationships.

We were getting fucking old.

“Well, as long as she’s happy. Now where’s this beer you promised me?”

And that was that. I liked his approach. Honest. Direct. And most importantly, brief.

“Ok, pussy,” Troy announced. “How much cash do you have on ya?” That didn’t sound good.

I think I had about five hundred in my wallet.

“Enough, why?”

“Because you’re going to lose it all tonight.”

This was going to get ugly. I could feel it.

After we hung out for a few hours and smoked a couple cigars Reggie had brought for the occasion, we headed out. Back in the days before I met Blake, I wouldn’t think twice about going to a strip club. Dancers aren’t really my cup of tea, but I got it. I loved looking at women, and lap dances weren’t torture, but I didn’t have it in me anymore. When we pulled up to a gentlemen’s club I’d heard of, I will admit, I thought about saying fuck it and suggesting we just go shoot darts at HLS.

“Guys, are you sure about this?” I asked as we got out of Cory’s SUV. “I’m up for having some fun, but really? Strip club? You couldn’t think of anything else?”

I watched as knowing looks swept across their faces. There was something going on.

Cory, my always sure-headed, older-by-a-few-minutes brother, draped an arm over my shoulder and started walking us across the street. He said, “Listen, we’re going to go in, we’ll have a few drinks, and go up to a private room to play some poker.”

Fuck if I wasn’t whipped, because I sure as hell felt better knowing I wasn’t going to be swarmed with naked women in front of my soon to be in-laws. And I love tits. I felt a little better and surrendered, because I was in good hands.

Strip club it was.

The Elite wasn’t a typical club. There were no visible tables from the entrance. The bar looked and felt like one of the more upscale bars I’d ever been in. The wait staff was definitely dressed better than any I’d ever seen, wearing short dresses that did a fantastic job of adding to the allure. As women walked past us, they smiled coyly. I’m only a man, so I smiled back.

Reggie walked up to a guy in a suit, who he must