All You Need Is Love (14 page)

Jonathan insisted on dealing the first hand, and then gave a triumphant fist pump when he won. His confidence began to waiver soon thereafter, though, as Ian quietly and stealthily continued to win hand after hand.

Both Nathan and Travis folded after a few hands when it became evident this wasn’t their night.

“Too bad Anton wasn’t here,” said Travis. “Hard to believe, I know, but he’s something of a card shark.”

Nathan raised a brow in surprise. “You’re right, I’d never have guessed at that one. Where is Anton this evening anyway?”

Travis glanced around the room that was filled with cigar smoke and the combined sounds of the various sporting events being broadcast on the TV sets, pool cues knocking billiard balls into corner pockets, and loud, raucous laughter. He shook his head in amazement that Nathan would even ask such a question.

“Uh, not that all of this is exactly my scene either, but – Anton? He wouldn’t know the baseball game from the boxing match. And I doubt if the bartender would agree to mix him up a Cosmo or an appletini – provided he even knows how to make one. No, Anton decided to attend Julia’s bachelorette bash instead. Trust me, it’s a much better fit for him.”

After several more hands of poker, all of the others folded until it was just Jonathan and Ian still in the game. And as the stack of chips in front of Ian continued to grow, Jonathan’s annoyance became more and more evident.

“Thought you said baccarat or craps was your game,” groused Jonathan.

Ian shrugged carelessly. “Those are my preferred games. I never said I didn’t play poker as well. Though it’s admittedly been several years since I’ve played any of them, not since I lived in Europe.”

Jonathan scowled. “Doesn’t appear that your layoff has hurt your game at all. You do play to win, don’t you, old chap?”

Ian smiled knowingly, completely unfazed by Jonathan’s sarcastic moniker. “Frankly, I never learned how to play any other way. And I could say the same about you, mate. Now, would you like to deal or shall I?”

Those remaining seated at the table watched the two final players intently, while several others in the room began to gather around to observe the game. While Jonathan seemed to lose a bit more of his cool with each hand he lost, Ian looked as calm and collected as though he were playing a game of Go Fish with a child.

“He is a true badass,” whispered Rick to Nathan. “Look at how pissed off Jonathan is getting. I’m amazed he doesn’t have steam pouring out of his ears.”

Nathan grinned. “It
is
pretty awesome to see that arrogant fucker getting his comeuppance, isn’t it? After knowing him for fifteen years and dealing with that competitive streak of his, it feels damned good to watch him get his ass kicked.”

One of the servers who’d been working the room all night brought yet another round of drinks to the table. Jonathan picked up his tumbler of Jack Daniels and smirked as he watched Ian sip a mug of hot coffee.

“What’s the matter, old chap – can’t hold your liquor?” he taunted. “I hear that sort of thing happens as you age.”

Ian eyed his opponent casually over the rim of his mug. “My grandfather told me over twenty years ago – probably right after my first official hangover - that the amount of alcohol a man can consume has absolutely nothing to do with the size of his dick. A theory I continue to agree with today.”

Jonathan shrugged arrogantly. “Suit yourself, old chap. Hey, is that regular or decaf?”

Ian smiled, but in an icy cold, mercilessly calculating manner that sent chills up the spine of every man present. Without the slightest bit of fuss, he casually withdrew his cell phone and began to scroll through it unhurriedly. When he found what he was looking for his smile widened into a grin.

“Here. Have a look but try not to drool, hmm?” instructed Ian as he slid the phone across the table to Jonathan.

Nathan peeked over Jonathan’s shoulder and had to stifle a shout of laughter as he spied the photo of Tessa that was prominently displayed on the phone’s screen. She looked particularly delectable, with a sultry smile and a low-cut dress, and in spite of Ian’s admonition Jonathan was most definitely drooling.

“That’s my girlfriend,” announced Ian to no one in particular. “My live-in, twenty-five year old girlfriend who, as we speak, is probably getting rather tipsy at Julia’s party.” He deliberately took another sip of his coffee before adding, “And when she gets a bit tipsy she also gets very, very amorous. So you can be damned sure I want to be wide awake and stone cold sober when she arrives home tonight. Now, would you like to deal or shall I?”

Jonathan was silent and visibly chastised as he dealt the cards, but his expression quickly changed to one of glee as he revealed what he obviously considered to be a winning hand.

“Hah! Full house, old chap. Like to see you beat that.”

“I rather doubt that you do, but if you insist.” Ian took another unhurried sip of his coffee before slowly turning over his cards to reveal four kings.

A round of applause and whoops sounded around the table, since everyone who knew Jonathan was well aware of what a pain in the ass he was about always having to win. It was rare to see him get his just desserts and especially not as thoroughly and coolly as they had just been administered.

“Damn, I’m telling you, Nate,” murmured Rick in awe. “Your man Ian there is a total fucking badass. He’s like James Bond meets Dirty Harry with some Terminator thrown in for good measure.”

Whatever reply Nathan was about to make was interrupted by the pinging of Travis’ phone, signaling an incoming text.

Travis grinned. “It’s from Anton. A photo from tonight’s festivities. Jesus, is that Courtney?”

Nathan’s eyes widened as he peered at the photo. “Must be. No one else I know has seafoam green hair. But who’s that about to take a body shot off of her belly button?”

The phone was passed around the table until it stopped with Matt.

“Uh, oh. That, uh, would be my wife. My wife,” he added with amused exasperation, “who really, really can’t hold her liquor very well. And unlike Ian’s woman who gets horny when she’s had a few, Jada just gets – sick.” He sighed. “Well, this has definitely not been my lucky night in any way, shape or form and it doesn’t seem like it’s going to get better in a hurry.”

Travis took back his phone but the grin on his face froze as he read a new text. “Uh, sounds like you’re not the only one, Matt. According to this rather cryptic message from Anton, the girls are apparently getting kicked out of whatever bar they’re currently causing trouble at. Wonder what that’s all about.”

Nathan shook his head in mild disgust. “Don’t know, but I’m willing to bet Lauren is involved somehow. And that’s at least one bet I’m positive I’d win tonight.”

***

As it turned out, Nathan was only partially right about it being Lauren’s fault that Julia and her posse were asked – as politely as the bald, six foot seven, three hundred pound bouncer was capable of being – to please vacate the premises. As the women, plus their lone male companion, hit the sidewalk, each was in a slightly different state of inebriation.

Sasha – who taught yoga to both Julia and Tessa – was by far the most sober, having consumed a mere two glasses of wine the entire evening. She was also the calmest and most level headed of the group, and was currently doing her best to calm down a very pissed off Courtney.

Tessa – who’d rarely been inside a bar or dance club before tonight – was more or less in shock at what had just unfolded. She could only trail along in something of a daze as Lauren led everyone at a brisk pace to another bar a block away.

Julia, who was more than a little buzzed after several hours of clubbing and barhopping, was still alert enough to glare darkly at her twin sister. Even now, after the scene she’d been at least partially responsible for, Lauren didn’t seem in the least bit concerned and continued to saunter arrogantly down Union Street. She wore tight, low-rise jeans that prominently displayed her shooting star tattoo – her “tramp stamp” as she so charmingly referred to it – an equally tight white ribbed tank that clung to her impressive rack, and high heeled, pointy toed boots that had very recently been planted in a rowdy bar patron’s gut.

“Did you really have to kick that guy so hard?” groused Julia. “Or at all? Why couldn’t you have just called the bouncer over and let him deal with it?”

Lauren gazed at her sister like she’d just sprouted a second head. “Seriously, Jules? Knowing me as you do – which should be very, very well considering – oh, yeah, duh – we’re identical twins, did you really think I was going to ignore what that asshole did? I mean, putting his hand on my ass was one thing – if he’d kept it to that I might have just dislocated a finger or two. But when he actually suggested we sneak off somewhere so I could give him a BJ – uh, uh. There was no way I could let that go without putting him in his place.”

Julia frowned at her sister. “Did the place you put him in have to be on his butt?”

Lauren shrugged, her seeming indifference to the whole matter only serving to infuriate Julia further. “I didn’t even kick him that hard. He must have been really plastered to fall like that. And I refuse to take the entire blame for this fiasco. If you want my opinion, we really have Angela and Courtney to blame for getting us kicked out. Oh, and we can’t forget Upchuck Chick, can we?”

After Lauren had delivered a very sound roundhouse kick to her would-be suitor’s abdomen, all hell had broken loose. He had crashed into a couple of tables, upsetting glasses and chairs, and setting off something of a chain reaction with other patrons yelling and joining in the fracas. In the meanwhile, three of the guy’s friends had rushed to his aid and begun screaming threats and insults at Lauren. Angela, who’d been in a bizarre mood all night, stormed over to defend her best friend and tossed the entire contents of her drink into one of the men’s faces. Courtney, who’d had no real excuse except that she was completely hammered, had uttered a primal scream and jumped on one of the men’s backs, kicking and punching him with surprising force for someone as scrawny as she was.

The burly bouncer had just arrived on the scene to break up the disturbance when Jada made everything ten times worse by throwing up all over his size fourteen shoes. Disgusted and pissed off, the bouncer had made it very clear that the entire group of Julia’s friends needed to leave immediately.

Julia shook her head in bemusement. “Angela was just trying to help you out. And is it just me or is she in the strangest mood ever tonight? And Courtney – well, nobody really knows what goes on in that head of hers. Travis thinks all the hair dye she’s used over the years is toxic and fried off a bunch of brain cells. As for Jada, she wouldn’t have puked if you hadn’t egged her on to order that last drink. What was it called again – oh, yes, Six Feet Under.”

Lauren grinned. “Hey, you’ll notice
I
wasn’t daft enough to try one. But, come on, Julia, lighten up, okay? I know you’re a little pissed off right now but this is one of those times we’ll look back on in five years – or maybe twenty – and laugh our asses off about. Oh, here we are.”

Lauren led her now somewhat bedraggled troupe into what Julia was pretty sure was their fifth – or possibly sixth – stop of the night. The club was one of the more popular – and crowded – dance spots in the area but somehow Lauren managed to elbow her way through the crowd and secure tables for everyone.

Jada, whose face looked as green as Courtney’s hair, shook her head vehemently when asked if she wanted a drink.

“God, no,” she croaked. “Maybe not ever again.”

Sasha, who was an herbalist as well as a yoga teacher and massage therapist, patted her soothingly on the shoulder. “Ginger ale. Sip it slowly and it should make your stomach feel a little better. Ginger tea would be even better but –” she glanced around the club with its flashing neon lights, pounding techno music, and throngs of writhing bodies – “highly unlikely that’s going to be on the menu here.”

Lauren had barely finished off her drink when she was propelling everyone onto the dance floor, with the exception of Jada who volunteered to stay behind and save the tables.

“I’m surprised you didn’t strong arm poor Jada and force her out here with us,” muttered Julia as she began to dance alongside her sister.

“As green around the gills as she still looks, there’s no way in hell I’d encourage her to dance,” declared Lauren. “I’ve already had to wipe puke off my boots once this evening, and these are a brand new pair of Bottega Venetas that Aunt Maddy sent me.”

But no one else was excused from dancing their asses off, as Lauren urged everyone to form a circle and then one by one each member of the group was unceremoniously shoved into the center to take a turn. Anton was hilarious as he did some sort of weird robotic moves, while Courtney was just a flurry of uncoordinated arms and legs moving in opposite directions. Tessa drew cat calls and whoops as she performed a rather provocative bump and grind, and Sasha turned out to be the best dancer in the entire club, her slim, graceful body moving sinuously to the beat of the music.

And then Julia and Lauren were pushed into the middle of the circle, dancing in rather abandoned unison, and soon almost everyone in the vicinity was watching the identical twins shake and shimmy to the throbbing bass.

The twins were the last ones to leave the dance floor and only after Julia begged her sister for a much needed break. But she had barely plunked her weary butt onto a chair when Lauren, always the ringleader, was challenging the group to a drinking contest.

“C’mon, it’ll be great. Last girl standing – uh, or Anton –” she threw their nattily attired male companion an apologetic grin – “is the winner.”

“I’m in,” chirped Courtney without the slightest hesitation.

Angela raised her hand somewhat reluctantly. “What the hell, why not? Especially since I tossed my last drink in that asshole’s face.”

Anton wrinkled his nose in distaste. “Why does it have to be shots? That just sounds so – uncivilized.”

Lauren gazed at him scathingly. “Because you don’t take dainty sips of a Cosmo in a drinking contest, hon. Now, are you in or not?”