I ride my bike the short distance to Cici's apartment building. It's actually not that far, about thirty minutes from Vega's house.
I pull up and get off my motorcycle, quickly spotting a sleek black car parked discreetly on the side of the street. I don't think anything of it; this neighborhood is full of expensive vehicles.
I enter the apartment building, and the receptionist waves at me. I've been here so many times they all know me by sight. I head up to the tenth floor.
When I reach Cici's door, I knock once. The second I open it, I am met by a group of five girls screaming so loud they threaten to rupture my eardrums. I'm momentarily dumbfounded. I know most of these women. They're all Cici's friends, and I only ever hang out with them when Cici insists.
Cici, a whirlwind of tulle and slightly slurred enthusiasm, rushes over and jumps on me. She knows I can carry her, I'm strong so she doesn't hesitate.
I steady myself, holding her up by the thighs. "Get off me," I grunt.
"TT is married!" she squeals into my neck.
"How many have you had?" I ask, already knowing the answer will be a lie.
Cici is very energetic, swaying slightly in my arms. "Just two," she giggles as she got off me. Of course, she's lying.
I'm quickly surrounded. The girls are shrieking, pulling and tugging at me to sit down and spill all the tea. I know Cici didn't mention the contract, she wouldn't, so these women actually think I fell in love and landed a very handsome catch.
One of them leans in, giggling. "How is he, you know, in bed?"
A different girl slaps her playfully. "Stop asking such private questions!" she admonishes, but the curiosity is written all over her own face.
Of course, I haven't even gone that far with Vega, and it will never happen. So I lie, falling back on the only memory of real passion I have. I just recall the flashbacks of that night I spent with the unknown stranger and say, with fake languor, "It's passionate."
"Really? Tell us more!" one of the girls demands, her eyes wide.
I glance at Cici, signaling desperately for help.
Cici grabs a bottle and says, "You are all so nosy! Who here hasn't had sex, anyway?"
They all laugh, obviously a little tipsy, and the focus shifts momentarily.
One of the girls pouts. "No offense, but I just didn't think Tyr would be the first of us to get married."
Cici slams a shot glass into my hand. "What the hell are you saying? Tyr is a goddess, of course she would be the first to get married!"
I take a sip of the shot, the liquid burns my throat, offering a fleeting, welcome distraction from the screaming. "No offense," I say, trying to match their tipsy honesty, "I actually didn't think I would be married, ever."
"It's always the ones who don't like getting married who get cuffed first!" one of the girls exclaims.
Another girl chimes in, "Cuffed by a rich, handsome man at that!"
The girls excitedly scream, and I feel like a salt shaker being vigorously shaken, my eardrums on the verge of bursting.
Cici finally slams the bottle down. "Enough about Vega! It's Tyr's night! Let's get wasted, bitches!"
The drinks start flowing in earnest, and I let go. I go all out. I don't even know when my clothes are changed. Suddenly, I'm wearing a tight, sequined dress that definitely belongs to Cici. Cici goes all out, applying loud, ridiculous makeup to my face glitter and thick eyeliner.
While Cici is messing with my face, the girls present their gifts. Most of the packages are shocking: sexy lingerie, sex toys, and even a whip. I can't fathom what possessed them to think of such gifts, especially knowing my history.
I thought we would just spend the night in the apartment and get wasted until we couldn't remember our names. But before I can finish my next shot, I'm pulled out of the apartment, and we are all stuffed into a party limousine.
I sit in the limousine, feeling ridiculous but undeniably happy. I'm wearing a sash that screams "BRIDE TO BE" and a tiny, pointless short veil clipped to my hair. I lean in toward Cici, shouting over the bass.
"When did you plan all of this?"
Cici throws her head back and laughs, her voice slightly slurred. "Since the day you sent the, you know what. The chance of you giving another guy a chance to marry you is—" She makes a dramatic 'O' shape with her hand and continues, "—so I will take full advantage and give my best friend the best bachelorette party ever."
She's right. The chance of this ever happening in the future is zero, so why not enjoy it?
But there's one problem. I try to ignore the male dancer currently jiggling his package near my knee and whisper urgently, "You know I can't have a scandal, right?"
Cici just laughs and winks at me.
I'm speechless. Cici has indeed thought of everything. She grabs my hand, and we tumble out of the limo and into a building marked only by a tiny, discreet symbol. She pulls me into a private club for discreet clients. I've never even heard of this place.
I'm led into a private room where the music is blasting. There are several male dancers serving drinks like this is the last day on earth. Cici is so excited that she immediately downs a shot.
"Let's party, ladies!" she yells, slamming the glass down.
I take drink after drink, and I am really having fun. That night is such a blur. All I remember are flashes: dancing on the platform, singing at the top of my lungs, and shoving twenty-dollar bills into someone's waistband.
After dancing to my heart's content, I stumble back to the velvet couch and sit down. Cici hands me another drink. The two of us watch the others grind and get fed cherries by the male dancers, cheering them on. Cici and I are both profoundly drunk at this point.
"Ca-call Chandalier," Cici manages, her speech slurred almost beyond recognition. "Tell him to co-come and take us somewhere fun."
I lean back dizzily and laugh. "Chandalier! Hahaha!"
Cici points a wobbly finger at herself. "What's what's so funny?"
"It's Chandler," I correct her, tears starting to leak from my eyes.