Chapter 6

When it comes to swanky hotel rooms, you might think the penthouse is top-of-the-line. In most cases, you'd be right. But the Bellagio has something better. The villa. It's the kind of place only royalty, heads of state, and highly overrated actors get to stay. Five bedrooms, formal dining room, office, library, and a huge kitchen—all trimmed in elegant woods and marbles—decked out with the finest appliances, accessories, and Italian fabrics. It even comes with a full-service maid and butler staff.

Money can't buy happiness—but it makes it a hell of a lot easier to stay happy.

Since we're the guests of honor, Jennie and I get the master suite. Our adjoining bathroom has a steam shower and huge Jacuzzi that I definitely plan on putting to good use later. Loren and Rosé, Jisoo and Bambam, each pair gets a room too—complete with fireplace and king-size bed. Somi claims a slightly smaller room with a queen, while Bobby and Kai bunk together in the last room.

It's a good thing their room has two double beds, because if there's one thing a guy will never do, it's share a bed with another dude. Sleeping naked on sharp gravel? Totally acceptable, when faced with the risk of waking up to a loaded rifle in your back.

After the butler—we'll call him Mr. Belvedere—gives us the grand tour and the maids take our luggage to unpack, the nine of us relax in the living room, talking about the agenda for the day.

Sitting on the dark brown love seat, with Jisoo on his lap, Bambam goes first. "There's a water-volleyball tournament down at the pool in twenty minutes. I figured we'd start there—get our burn on. And they're having a pig-roast barbecue—you know how I love a good swine."

All the guys nod their consent.

Jisoo begins, "Our goddess party starts at five..."

Goddess parties... for guys they're a dream—mythical. Like the fabled pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, or the topless pillow fight at a sleepover. It's pretty much a female-only sex party, minus the actual sex. Legend has it there's a wide array of toys for sale—dildos, vibrators, bondage gear, and lingerie. And there are lessons—women are instructed on all kinds of acquired skills, such as deep throat, masturbation, pole dancing.

"... but before that, we ladies have appointments at the spa, to get beautified for tonight."

I run my hand through Jennie's dark hair as she sits beside me on the couch. "That's a waste of time," I tell her. "You can't improve perfection."

She blushes slightly. Still so fucking adorable.

Jisoo counters, "You say that now—but wait until you see us after. We're gonna get wrapped, waxed, plucked, and massaged. I swear, Jennie—after Ricardo works you over? You'll never be the same. It's like being touched by an orgasm."

My curiosity gets the best of me. "Who's Ricardo?"

"Jennie's massage therapist."

Huh. "Ricardo's a weird name for a woman."

Jisoo rolls her eyes. "Well, yeah, it would be—but Ricardo's all man. He's got the body of a Greek god, like Arnold Schwarzenegger in his steroid days. And he knows how to use it—especially his hands."

Some guys would be okay with this situation. Men who are laid-back like Bambam or understanding like Loren. They'd kiss their lady on the cheek and say, "Have a good time, honey." But—despite my emotional growth these last years—that's just not how I roll.

So what I say is "Yeah, that's not fucking happening."

Jennie puts her hand on my leg. "Lisa, it's just a massage."

"I'm aware of that. Two words—happy ending. Two more words—no way."

Rosé tries to be helpful. "Relax, sister. There's no reason to be jealous."

I open my arms wide. "Who's jealous? I'm not jealous—'cause it's not fucking happening." I turn to Jennie and explain calmly, "You really think I'm gonna be able to just sit here knowing you're out there—with your goodies covered only by a thin cotton towel—while Ricardo-frigging-Montalbán has his hands all over you? Making you moan? Screw that. All your moans belong to me—they're paid in full with that rock on your finger."

Jisoo holds her hand out to Bambam. "I knew she wouldn't be able to handle it. Pay up."

He pulls his wallet out and slaps a twenty in her palm. I shake my head in disappointment at him. "You thought I'd be okay with this?"

He shrugs.

My eyes narrow. "I don't even know you anymore."

"Ricardo's awesome, man. His hands are magic. If I was gay, I would totally enter into a civil union with him."

From the recliner, Loren joins the discussion. "You let a dude give you a rubdown? Have you considered the possibility that you're already gay?"

"Blow me."

Loren laughs. "See, that's what I mean. These subliminal messages are tickling my gaydar." He holds his finger out, pointing to each guy in the room. "Beep. Beep. Beep..." Then he points at Bambam. "Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep."

Kai and Bobby crack up, and Loren gives them a high five. Bambam makes the jerk-off sign with his hand. Which doesn't help his case much.

Jennie brings us back on topic. "This is really a problem for you?"

I nod. "Absolutely. It'll taint my memory of the entire weekend."

She sighs. And turns toward Jisoo. "Switch my appointment."

Jisoo looks appalled. "You're not serious?" She throws her hands up in the air. "And so it begins. You're not even married yet, and she's already controlling you—dictating what you can and can't do."

I jump to Jennie's defense. "She's respecting my goddamn feelings. That's how a mature, healthy relationship works. You should try it sometime."

"I'm extremely considerate of Bambam's feelings!"

Jennie jumps in. "Chu, we're here to have fun, not torture my fiancé."

Jisoo pouts. "But torturing her is my idea of fun. Party pooper." Still, she grabs the phone and calls the spa.

Jennie nestles into my side, resting her head on my shoulder. I pull her closer and kiss the top her head. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

I grin. "When you get back from your primping, I want some of that Jennie time you owe me."

She lifts her head and whispers, "Does this, by chance, involve finishing what we started on the plane?"

I nod slowly. "It does—and I guarantee it will be a spectacular finish."

"It always is." She leans forward, kissing me playfully, her tongue grazing and teasing.

When she pulls back, I lick my bottom lip, savoring the taste of her. "Bet your ass it is."

Kai interrupts our flirtatious moment. "So, before we split up, does anybody wanna like... get high?"

I'm not a big fan of drugs, even the recreational kind. With alcohol, you can pace yourself—have a drink or two, then slow down and enjoy the buzz. Or you can go full throttle and down five quick shots. In either case, there's control over how shitfaced you want to be.

But drugs are like a train without a conductor. Once you're on, you're going for a ride—no slowing down, no getting off if you change your mind. Jisoo doesn't share my sentiments. No surprise there.

She sits next to her cousin on arm of the couch. "Thank God—I thought you'd never ask."

Kai reaches into his pocket and pulls out a clear baggie that contains a few prerolled joints, some loose marijuana, and a small, brightly colored bowl pipe.

Somi asks, "Where'd you get that from?"

"I brought it from New York." His brow furrows as he clarifies, "Well, technically, I brought it from California to New York, and then here. It's good shit—high-level medical grade. The janitor at my music studio has glaucoma."

"But how did you get it past airport security?" my sister questions.

Kai explains proudly, "I keep it in my boxer briefs. That way, if I get picked for one of those scanner things, it just looks like the downstairs dreadlocks need a trim."

I raise my eyebrows. "Now there's a backup plan. If the music career tanks, you can always become a drug mule." Drug smugglers have an extremely high rate of early, violent death. Awesome.

Kai passes Jisoo a joint and she lights up. Bambam makes his way over. "I could go for a hit of herb."

Somi is hesitant. "I've never smoked marijuana before."

Kai tries to be reassuring. "Then you've come to the right place. We're all friends in the dope show."

She still looks nervous, so I tell her, "Just say no, Somi. Only losers get high." I point my thumb at Kai. "You really want to end up like Exhibit A over there?"

Jisoo holds her hands up like claws. "Peer pressure! Come on, Somi—you have to try it at least once. Live a little, girlfriend."

"And that would be Exhibit B."

Somi takes a big breath and looks at me with wide, approval-seeking eyes. "I think I'm gonna try it. I mean... sometimes you just have to say, 'What the fuck?'... right, Lisa?"

You can't argue with a Risky Business quote. I shrug my shoulders in surrender, and Somi joins the rest of the stoners.

Bobby's not interested. "No thanks, man. I'm all about keeping the toxins out of my system these days."

Rosé declines as well, with a wave of her hand. Loren, however, says, "Sure, why not? I'll relive my misspent youth."

Rosé snaps, "What do you mean relive? You're a man—you're still living your misspent youth."

My brother-in-law holds out his hand to Kai. "Make mine a double."

Kai passes Loren a full bowl and a lighter, while Bambam offers Jennie the joint. She shakes her head. "Maybe later."

I walk across the room, open a window, and turn on the ceiling fan.

Kai asks, "What about you, Manoban? You down?"

I snort. "Like I'd ever put something in my mouth that hitched a ride next to your sweaty balls. I'd rather kiss a jungle elephant's ass."

Kai takes a long drag, and puffs of smoke escape his lips as he mocks me. "Narc."

I deadpan, "Yeah, that's me. On my off days I hang out with Johnny Depp down at 21 Jump Street."

Already feeling the effects of the high, Bambam giggles. And announces to the whole room, "Nah, Lisa's cool. But her and Mary Jane don't get along. She tried her once in college. It didn't work out."

Jennie leans forward. "I've never heard that story."

"It wasn't exactly one of my finer moments."

Bambam laughs louder. "She took four hits, then started running around the house locking all the doors and windows. She thought her old man was gonna show up, or the SWAT team was gonna drop out of the sky. Then she had a panic attack."

"I did not have a frigging panic attack."

Bambam's eyes meet mine. "Dude, I thought I was gonna have to haul your ass to the emergency room. You looked like you were going into cardiac fucking arrest."

Everyone has a good chuckle at my expense—even Jennie.

Kai nods his head happily. "Manoban can't handle the weed. Good to know. Now, if I ever want to mess with you, I know just how to do it."

Friends are supposed to rag on each other. It's one of the benefits of knowing everything about a person—all their accomplishments, all their embarrassing, dirty little secrets.

But that's a hammer that swings both ways.

"Keep on walking down memory lane, Bambam. There's a few potholes I could dig up on you too."

He spreads his arms wide. "I'm an open book."

I smile devilishly. "You sure about that?"

"Bring it, chump."

I turn toward his wife. "Hey, Chu, Bambam ever tell you about the time he was so trashed, he pissed in Kelly Macallister's mouth while she was giving him a blow job?"

Bambam sobers immediately.

Loren doubles over laughing.

"Ewwww," Somi squeals. "That's so gross."

"That's how he got his nickname in our fraternity—Golden Shower Bhuwakul."

Rosé looks both sickened and amused.

Bobby snorts, "Nasty."

Jennie grimaces and covers her ears.

Jisoo laughs at first, then turns to her husband and confesses, "I'm ruined. I'll never be able to suck you off again without thinking of that story."

Bambam glares at me good-naturedly, "You're a dickwad, girl."

I just grin. "That's what friends are for, buddy."

Ten minutes later, Somi lies feet up in the recliner with heavy-lidded eyes. She raises one arm slowly, then the other. "This is great. I'm so relaxed."

Loren's face is slack as he motions toward the shiny grand piano in the corner. "Hey, Kai, why don't you play something?"

Yes, asswipe can also play the piano. Just keep in mind—he may be a multifaceted tool, but he's still a fucking tool.

Jisoo pipes up, "Good idea. Nothing goes better with a quality high than some smooth tunes. Make it mellow, cuz."

Shit-for-brains gets up, settles himself on the piano bench, cracks his knuckles, and starts to play. After a few bars of instrumental, he starts to sing "Someone Like You" by Adele. It figures he'd choose a chick song.

As he croons the last line before the chorus—the one about things not being over between him and his former love, my good mood sours like milk left out of the fridge too long. This is why I always have, do now, and will forever hate Kai's guts. Because, despite Bambam's story about my experience with marijuana, I'm not a paranoid guy. I'm observant. Intelligent. Goddamn smart enough to know why—out of all the motherfucking songs he could have played—he picked this one.

And more important—I know whom he's playing it for.

There are no accidents. Body language and Freudian slips have meaning. They're our subconscious's way of showing how we really feel. What we really want. And somewhere, deep down in Kai's puny brain and inadequate heart—I think he still wants Jennie.

Look at her face now. It's the same look she always gets when she watches him sing. Her head's tilted slightly, a small smile sits on her lips, and her eyes swim with a mixture of pride and wonderment. Admiration. And possibly, remembered affection. Even though I know she doesn't have those feelings for him anymore, even though I know she chose me—she loves me more—it pisses me off. Badly.

Because the only person I've ever looked at like that—in my entire life—is her.

As he plays the final note, I swallow my resentment down. Bambam, Loren, Somi, Jisoo, and Jennie clap. Rosé actually wipes a tear from her eye.

Bobby says, "Damn you're good. That music shit must make you a righteous pussy hound. Tonight, Kai, you're my wingman."

Kai nods shyly. "Sure, man."

Then I stand up. "Now that I've gotten my dose of vitamin for the day, how about we head to the pool and check out that barbecue? I don't know about you guys, but I'm more than ready for the first of many rounds."

Everyone agrees.

I keep Jennie close to me as we all head to our respective rooms for a quick clothing change. And prepare to go our separate ways.