An even louder round of cheers rises up with some laughter and clapping. It’s obvious what he’s going to do as he disappears into the bathroom.
Matt gets up and puts his fists in the air. “Reigning champion. Who’s next?”
“Me,” I say, surprising myself.
“No way!” Matt scoffs. “You’ll be able to have the pyramid built in seconds. You do this all day every day.”
“I’m an interior designer.” I laugh. “What part of that involves building pyramids out of shot glasses?”
“Ah, you know what I mean.” Matt grins. “Building stuff, designing stuff. It’s all the same thing isn’t it?”
It’s not even close and I doubt for a second I would beat Matt at building the pyramid, but I’m not bothered about winning. I just want to get a bit tipsy and get into the same high spirits the others are in. “Okay.” I grin. “How about we just pretend we played and you won and I’ll drink the shots?”
“Really?” Mark says, raising an eyebrow.
“Really,” I confirm as I sit down.
Bradley grabs five shot glasses and begins to fill them up with Tequila. He’s onto the fourth one when Sebastian comes back out of the bathroom.
He still looks a little bit white, but he looks a damned sight better than he did before he went into the bathroom.
“Are you okay?” Matt asks him.
Sebastian laughs and nods. “Tactical heave. Bring it on.” He picks up his half empty bottle of beer and starts drinking again, barely even slowed down by his throwing up. He spots me sitting at the table with the shots in front of me. “Wait. You played?”
“No,” I say shaking my head. “The reigning champ here was afraid to take me on. So, I thought I’d just down the shots.” I didn’t wait for Sebastian’s reply. I pick the first shot up and down it. The Tequila tastes pretty awful, bitter, but I swallow fast and feel the warmth as it spreads through me. I chase it down with the next one and the next one until I’ve drained all five. I smile up at the others.
They are watching me in a state of shock.
“What?” I ask.
Rick laughs. “You didn’t even flinch.”
“You said you couldn’t drink shots,” Mark adds. “But seriously, you’re on fire.”
I correct him. “I said I don’t drink shots. Not that I couldn’t.” Considering how little I go out, I actually have a surprisingly high tolerance for alcohol, I just don’t like drinking shots. It seems so frat boy. Immature and not my style at all.
“Chance’s way too grown up for shots.” Sebastian chuckles. “He’d much rather have a good glass of red wine.”
Actually, I’d rather have a good glass of rum or brandy, but he’s not completely wrong.
“Yeah, a stag night is kind of wasted on Chance,” Matt agrees.
“You don’t say,” I agree. “I did say I would be perfectly happy not to come.”
“Don’t start with that shit again.” Sebastian laughs. “We’re family. That means you have to show up.”
“I did show up,” I remind him. “But you can’t pull the family card. You let Dad off the hook.”
“Well yeah, because he’s Dad,” Sebastian replies. “You really think he’d follow the what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas rule? He’d spend the next lord knows how long reminding us of every stupid thing we say and do tonight.”
“True,” I say.
“Anyway, Vegas is hardly Dad’s scene is it?” he adds.
“It’s hardly my scene either,” I say.
“Yeah, but you only think you’re ancient and past it. You’re twenty-four, start acting it.” Matt laughs.
I snap. “Just because I’m the youngest, doesn’t mean I have to be the dumbest.” I realize I’ve made everyone feel awkward as I snap at Matt. “You know being the dumbest is Sebastian’s thing. This is his night, so let’s not try to take his title,” I say with a grin, quickly turning the mood back around to laughter.
“You haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until we hit the strip tonight and you’ll see just how dumb I can be,” Sebastian agrees.
This gets another round of cheers and another cry for shots.
I resist the urge to roll my eyes, reminding myself this is Sebastian’s night not mine, and when a shot of something neon blue is handed to me, I don’t resist. I tell myself I can do this. I can be the fun one for a few days. God, people do much worse things for much longer periods of time. Going to Vegas for a few days partying is most people’s idea of fun and here I am on a private jet going to stay in a nice hotel and I’m acting like I’m on death row or something.
We down the shots and the conversation moves on to the night’s plans. And they say I’m the boring one. Who plans a night in Vegas? You leave your hotel, follow the lights and go with the flow. That’s really what Vegas is about. Living in the moment. Being a bit reckless and doing something you wouldn’t normally do.
My work phone vibrates in my pocket and I move away from the group to go back to my seat, pulling it out. I glance at the screen and roll my eyes. It’s Dennis Rogers. I’m doing a full redesign for his holiday home. The plans are all done and he doesn’t want the work to start until the back end of next week, and yet he’s never off the phone with me. I debate ignoring his call, but I know if I do, I’ll only spend the rest of this week thinking about what he wants until I call him back on Monday. I take the call.
“Mr. Rogers. Is everything okay?” I ask.
“It’s Dennis,” he reminds me. “And yes, everything’s fine. Or at least I hope it is. I got a call from a contractor this morning about them wanting to be in the house next Wednesday afternoon. I’m not leaving until Thursday morning and I’ve told them that won’t work, but they said they
