to the bride. “Isn’t that right, Jaz? Wasn’t Cris saying something about seven inches coming your way…?”
It took a moment for that to sink in.
Then we all burst into hysterical laughter.
Jasmine, clad in her penis tiara, complete with short veil, slapped her leg. “More like ten!”
That brought a round of whistles and catcalls from the group as we all clinked our glasses together. Except for Gia. She just pretended to wretch.
I’d stumbled upon the dress I’d chosen for tonight after my fitting room text-capade with Nico that afternoon. It was a transparent, glittery silver number with flared long sleeves. Super short, so it showed off my legs. A lacy black bralette and short black skirt was all I wore underneath it, which were completely visible through the transparent material.
Really, I’d worn it for Nico.
I couldn’t wait to see his reaction when he saw me in it.
Gia raised her glass next. “Let us all remember… Wine is fine. Brandy makes you randy. Whiskey gets you frisky. But a nice stiff Johnny Walker will get you pregnant!”
We all whooped and cheered and drank some more.
Then they all looked to me. “You’re up, Lex.”
My eyes widened. My turn? Yikes. I was never good at toasts or limericks. I wracked my brain for something funny, even a dirty joke. Anything that wouldn’t be completely lame.
Something I’d heard once before suddenly popped into my head. I quickly worked out the translation from Russian to English, knowing that messing up one word could change the whole meaning. I just hoped I got it right.
I raised my glass. “When God made women, he made them out of lace. He didn’t have enough so he left a little space. When God made men, he made them out of string. He had some left over”—I pointed my index finger out from between my legs, mimicking a penis—“so he left a little thing. For that, we thank you, God, and here’s to string!”
Everyone burst into applause. Gia and Roxy laughed so hard they nearly fell out of their chairs. Relieved, I sipped from my vodka cranberry as Roxy and Giselle, Jasmine’s agent, finished their toasts.
By the time our male server came to check on our table, my glass was empty. Dressed like every other server in the joint, he wore nothing but a black bowtie around his neck, white shirt cuffs around his wrists, and black spandex shorts. His abs were ripped to the bone and, of course, his face was just as beautiful as the rest of him. Square jaw, clean-shaven, straight white teeth, blue eyes, and black hair slicked back off his face.
I lifted my glass when his attention shifted to me. I’d noticed his Russian accent before, so I asked him in Russian what other labels of vodka they offered.
His eyebrows went up. “Ty russkaya?” You are Russian?
I nodded. “Da.”
His eyes darkened as he eased closer to my chair. “Priyatnyy syurpriz.” A pleasant surprise.
He was undoubtedly trained to flirt with all the customers. Bigger smiles, bigger tips. But this felt like more than the standard. He certainly wasn’t looking at any of the other girls like that.
He listed off all the vodka they kept behind the bar. Not the best selections, but not the worst I’d ever heard. I chose the only one made by Kozlov Industries, to which the Russian server nodded in approval.
I almost laughed. If he only knew who I was…
“The show’s about to start, ladies,” he announced to the whole table. “Make sure you have your singles out.” As he turned away, he tossed a wink at me over his shoulder.
“Oooo, Lexi has an admirer!” Roxy giggled.
I blushed.
Gia stared at the server’s ass as he walked away. “I really need to learn Russian.”
When the house lights dimmed moments later and the pumping music number started, it was met with deafening applause from the enthusiastic audience. The velvet curtains slowly opened to reveal a group of male dancers who were all dressed in their outfit of choice—a soldier, a cowboy, a biker, a football player, a construction worker, and a suit-wearing, corporate-looking type holding a briefcase rounded out the pack.
When they all simultaneously turned around, I realized our server was the one in the suit.
And his eyes immediately found me in the crowd.
I squirmed in my chair, a little uncomfortable with his unwavering attention. Determined to avoid any further eye contact, I kept my gaze averted to either the other dancers, to my cheering cohorts, or to my drink.