Tied
Page 43
Warren sips his brandy and grimaces.
“It’s an acquired taste,” Steven tells him. “You’ll get used to it.”
Warren looks into his glass. “Why do I want to?”
“Because”—I spread my arms wide, motioning to the finely fashioned room around us—“this is the high life, man.”
He wrinkles his nose. “I think I like the low life better.”
I put the cigar back in my mouth and talk around it. “Again—not surprising.”
Jack leans forward. “Before we move on to the main event of the night, why don’t we get the toasts and roasts out of the way now?”
Steven raises his glass. “I second that motion.”
I grin and stand up. “All right. I’d just like to say thank you, to you all, for taking time out of your busy schedules to share this momentous occasion with me. If I’m going out with a bang, there’s nobody else I’d rather have with me than you guys.” I glance at Warren. “More or less.”
Then I raise my glass. “In any case, a toast: to the best friends a guy could ask for. Thank you.”
We drink. There are claps and hear, hears all around, then I sit down.
Warren stands up. “If we’re gonna do some roasting, I should go first.” The other guys give him the floor. He straightens up, clears his throat, and with a serious expression looks at each of us. “I’ve always thought of myself as a one-man wolf pack—”
Everyone cracks up. Who knew Warren had enough brain capacity for a sense of humor?
Matthew throws a wrapper at him. “You took my line, f**ker.”
Warren laughs too. “But seriously—I was a one-man wolf pack . . . with two she-wolves. And even though things were messy when Kate and Evans first hooked up, it all worked out. She’s happy—and that’s all I ever really wanted for her. And now, our packs have joined. And there’s more wolves, and she-wolves, and wolf pups . . . the pups are cool. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I never had a big family . . . but . . . now I know what it feels like to be a part of one. It’s nice.”
He raises his glass in my direction. “So I’d like to toast Drew and Kate’s marriage. If you ever break her heart, I’ll hold you down while Dee-Dee breaks your balls.”
Isn’t that a lovely visual.
Still, I nod to Warren as he sits down. He takes a big chug of his drink and nods in return.
Then Jack stands. He chomps his cigar thoughtfully for a moment. “I will never get married. I used to think Drew and I were on the same page about that. Women are like Kleenex—soft, disposable, a convenient place to cum.” Everyone chuckles. “And then Kate Brooks walked into our office. And because Drew is a smart guy, he realized right away what the rest of us didn’t. Kate isn’t some plain, ordinary tissue. Kate is a hankie. The kind you hold on to. The kind you embroider your initials on. Kate is a keeper.” Jack looks at me. “And since you’re one of my best friends, I’m really glad you get to keep her for the rest of your lives.” He raises his glass, “To Drew—a lucky, undeserving son of a bitch.”
We raise out glasses and laughingly drink to Jack’s unconventional—yet extremely accurate—toast.
Next up is Steven. He wobbles a little as he stands. He takes a big breath, holds it a moment. “Mawwiage. Mawwiage is what bwings us togethew today.”
All of us laugh, except for Jack. I don’t think he’s seen The Princess Bride. It’s Kate’s favorite movie, so I’ve sat through it a few times. Definitely a chick flick—although that Inigo Montoya guy was pretty badass.
“And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva . . .” Steven grins and clears his throat. “But seriously, being the most married guy here—it’s my job to warn you. Women change after marriage. It’s not all candlelight dinners and lingerie, no matter what Vogue says. And the sex changes too. Sometimes it’s routine, sometimes it’s nonexistent . . . and sometimes it’s freakier than you would have ever thought possible.”
I cover my ears. Because usually Steven keeps his and my sister’s bedroom activities to himself. And I absolutely f**king prefer it that way.
“And when you get married, the most important thing isn’t being in love. It’s making sure you marry your best friend. A partner—the person you want to share the good times, the shitty times, and everything in between with. You’ve found that partner in Kate. You’re my best friend, Drew—and I love you, man. But now? I get to be proud of you too. And I am—damn proud. Congratulations.”
I raise my glass back at Steven. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.” And it does.
Finally, Matthew takes center stage. “I am probably more grateful than anybody that Drew and Kate got together. Because of Kate, I met my angelic wife, Dee. And although sometimes she’s a pain in the ass, more than anything . . . she completes me.” Matthew glances down at his glass a moment, spinning the liquid around, before looking back up. “I’ve known Drew my whole life. We were like . . . best friends before we were born. So I’ve seen him have a lot of successes. I’ve been there when he scored the best grades, landed the biggest clients, nailed the hottest girls. And through all those times, Drew looked . . . satisfied, but unsurprised. Like all those accomplishments were just . . . expected. He worked hard for them—he always deserved them—and he knew it.”
“It’s an acquired taste,” Steven tells him. “You’ll get used to it.”
Warren looks into his glass. “Why do I want to?”
“Because”—I spread my arms wide, motioning to the finely fashioned room around us—“this is the high life, man.”
He wrinkles his nose. “I think I like the low life better.”
I put the cigar back in my mouth and talk around it. “Again—not surprising.”
Jack leans forward. “Before we move on to the main event of the night, why don’t we get the toasts and roasts out of the way now?”
Steven raises his glass. “I second that motion.”
I grin and stand up. “All right. I’d just like to say thank you, to you all, for taking time out of your busy schedules to share this momentous occasion with me. If I’m going out with a bang, there’s nobody else I’d rather have with me than you guys.” I glance at Warren. “More or less.”
Then I raise my glass. “In any case, a toast: to the best friends a guy could ask for. Thank you.”
We drink. There are claps and hear, hears all around, then I sit down.
Warren stands up. “If we’re gonna do some roasting, I should go first.” The other guys give him the floor. He straightens up, clears his throat, and with a serious expression looks at each of us. “I’ve always thought of myself as a one-man wolf pack—”
Everyone cracks up. Who knew Warren had enough brain capacity for a sense of humor?
Matthew throws a wrapper at him. “You took my line, f**ker.”
Warren laughs too. “But seriously—I was a one-man wolf pack . . . with two she-wolves. And even though things were messy when Kate and Evans first hooked up, it all worked out. She’s happy—and that’s all I ever really wanted for her. And now, our packs have joined. And there’s more wolves, and she-wolves, and wolf pups . . . the pups are cool. I guess what I’m trying to say is, I never had a big family . . . but . . . now I know what it feels like to be a part of one. It’s nice.”
He raises his glass in my direction. “So I’d like to toast Drew and Kate’s marriage. If you ever break her heart, I’ll hold you down while Dee-Dee breaks your balls.”
Isn’t that a lovely visual.
Still, I nod to Warren as he sits down. He takes a big chug of his drink and nods in return.
Then Jack stands. He chomps his cigar thoughtfully for a moment. “I will never get married. I used to think Drew and I were on the same page about that. Women are like Kleenex—soft, disposable, a convenient place to cum.” Everyone chuckles. “And then Kate Brooks walked into our office. And because Drew is a smart guy, he realized right away what the rest of us didn’t. Kate isn’t some plain, ordinary tissue. Kate is a hankie. The kind you hold on to. The kind you embroider your initials on. Kate is a keeper.” Jack looks at me. “And since you’re one of my best friends, I’m really glad you get to keep her for the rest of your lives.” He raises his glass, “To Drew—a lucky, undeserving son of a bitch.”
We raise out glasses and laughingly drink to Jack’s unconventional—yet extremely accurate—toast.
Next up is Steven. He wobbles a little as he stands. He takes a big breath, holds it a moment. “Mawwiage. Mawwiage is what bwings us togethew today.”
All of us laugh, except for Jack. I don’t think he’s seen The Princess Bride. It’s Kate’s favorite movie, so I’ve sat through it a few times. Definitely a chick flick—although that Inigo Montoya guy was pretty badass.
“And wuv, tru wuv, will fowow you foweva . . .” Steven grins and clears his throat. “But seriously, being the most married guy here—it’s my job to warn you. Women change after marriage. It’s not all candlelight dinners and lingerie, no matter what Vogue says. And the sex changes too. Sometimes it’s routine, sometimes it’s nonexistent . . . and sometimes it’s freakier than you would have ever thought possible.”
I cover my ears. Because usually Steven keeps his and my sister’s bedroom activities to himself. And I absolutely f**king prefer it that way.
“And when you get married, the most important thing isn’t being in love. It’s making sure you marry your best friend. A partner—the person you want to share the good times, the shitty times, and everything in between with. You’ve found that partner in Kate. You’re my best friend, Drew—and I love you, man. But now? I get to be proud of you too. And I am—damn proud. Congratulations.”
I raise my glass back at Steven. “Thanks, man. It means a lot.” And it does.
Finally, Matthew takes center stage. “I am probably more grateful than anybody that Drew and Kate got together. Because of Kate, I met my angelic wife, Dee. And although sometimes she’s a pain in the ass, more than anything . . . she completes me.” Matthew glances down at his glass a moment, spinning the liquid around, before looking back up. “I’ve known Drew my whole life. We were like . . . best friends before we were born. So I’ve seen him have a lot of successes. I’ve been there when he scored the best grades, landed the biggest clients, nailed the hottest girls. And through all those times, Drew looked . . . satisfied, but unsurprised. Like all those accomplishments were just . . . expected. He worked hard for them—he always deserved them—and he knew it.”
