Anchor - M. Mabie Page 0,52

have known. They shook hands and laughed and then the guy looked right at me, nodding. I was being fooled. This was just a high-end booby trap. Suit guy motioned to one of the ladies who walked over to us.

“Are you Mr. Moore?” Her tone was very inviting.

“Well, I’m one of them,” I answered. She looked a little confused, but right away noticed Cory.

“Oh, twins. My favorite.” Whoa. That was one thing I’d never done.

She linked her arm with mine and led me away. My entourage followed. It was kind of cool. She wasn’t trying to paw at me, which was nice. She was attractive, but it wasn’t hard to tell she was wearing a pretty dress her ass hung out of for the sole purpose of making money.

To me that seemed a little sad. A little desperate. The only brand of desperate I was into was when Blake was reaching for an orgasm.

Shit. I needed to watch what I was thinking about or I’d get a memory boner. Although, the thought of Blake wearing something like that, and prancing me around on her arm up to some private location … well, I could definitely work that into some alone time in the future, if needed. In fact, I’d tell her about this new little fantasy and see what happened.

Squeaky wheel gets the grease, right?

We went up a lengthy staircase that led into a huge room. There was a private bar and a very nice poker table waiting for us. Cory wasn’t lying and that’s why I needed money. Troy, the fucker, was trying to rob me on my night. I’d have to teach him a lesson. I’m a fucking salesman. I could sell ketchup popsicles to a nun in white gloves—with a straight face. I was going to make him my bitch just for doubting me.

“Gentlemen, I’m Curtis. I’ll be your dealer tonight.” Curtis was an older man, but he looked like he could still get into some trouble. He had that tangerine George Hamilton glow. “Help yourselves to the bar, and we’ll get started whenever you’re ready. We also have ladies available, in the event you lose and need some consolation and ego stroking.”

If that wasn’t some innuendo.

It was a special occasion, so I ordered off the top shelf. Rémy Martin neat.

Honeybee.

I hoped Blake was enjoying herself. If I needed some guy time, she sure as hell needed a girls’ night out.

All five of us sat around the pristine green-felt table and Curtis began to shuffle.

“The game is Texas Hold ’Em. Ten and twenty-dollar blinds. Who’s in and who’s out? Ante up.”

For the first time in my life, I felt like I couldn’t lose.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

AT FIRST, I THOUGHT they’d lost their minds, but we were having so much fun. Somehow they’d arranged a private showing of lingerie at a swanky shop called Madame Amour’s downtown. I wasn’t too hip on strutting around in anything too risky in front of Casey’s little sisters, but they felt more like my friends now. Besides, even Morgan was on board and having a good time.

“Do you see anything you like?” she asked me. “Or better yet—as weird as it sounds—see anything Casey would like? Never mind.” Then she walked away, shaking out her heebee-jeebees.

Well, at least she was trying.

There were lots of things he would like. One of everything in the place I was certain. I had the honeymoon—which I didn’t know much about—to buy for, as well as our wedding night.

“Another champagne?” our attendant Gwen asked.

“Yes, please.”

“Me too,” added Melanie, my co-worker, and Micah in unison. I was enjoying the girl time, and kind of glad the mothers stayed behind to watch Foster.

“Try some of it on,” Melanie said. “That’s what we’re here for. I’m going to before we eat.”

Micah had already tried three or four things on, admitting Cory gave her the credit card and took away her monthly limit. She wasn’t holding back with the stack she’d already decided to purchase.

“Okay, I’m going in.” Once again, I was in a dressing room, a familiar place when you’re actually into planning a wedding. The first few things I tried on were nos from me. However, I’d lay money Casey would come in his pants if I sent him a snapshot of me in the dressing room. I saved that idea for when I found one I liked. The first one that caught my eye was a slutty little red number with barely enough fabric to be classified as