One Wild Night (2 page)

As soon as Seth hit the ground and was unbuckled, he was
searching the floor, kicking his feet, looking for something, frowning. “What
you lost, Seth? Your balls?” I called, laughing as George slapped my back in
congratulations. Seth looked up at me, his face pure horror and I immediately
tensed up, thinking something bad had happened. I ran to his side, kicking at
the ground, too, looking for whatever he’d lost. “What is it?” I asked,
watching as he bent to pick up a rock before tossing back down again.

“Dude, I dropped my fucking phone!” he whined, shaking his
head dramatically. “Do you have any idea how many girls’ numbers I had stored
in there? Damn it, I had this hot little chick in there who I met last night, I
was supposed to call her and arrange to take her out. Christ, she was a
freaking gymnast, too!” he moaned, kicking at the ground again.

I burst out laughing. “A phone, really?” I rolled my eyes. “Why
didn’t you put it in your jeans pocket?” I asked.

He closed his eyes and frowned. “I was taking a video of George
screaming,” he explained, shaking his head. “It’s gone now though. I was gonna
YouTube that sucker!”

I laughed and patted my pocket. “I got one, don’t worry. We’ll
stich him up real good,” I assured him, winking conspiratorially. “Can’t do
much about the gymnast though, I’m afraid,” I added, smirking at him as he
groaned again. I looped my arm around his neck, getting him in a headlock and
dragging him off to the side with everyone else. “Time for drinking now, or are
we doing something else?” I asked. Ashton just smiled at me wickedly.

I stood at the mirror and winced. I looked like a dick, a
complete and utter dick. “Seriously, what are we, three?” I called over the top
of the dressing room curtain.

“Three-and-a-half,” Ashton called back, laughing.

I groaned and raked my eyes down myself in the full-length
mirror. Black pants, black shirt with gold stitching on it, black cummerbund. I
looked like a serious prick. I pulled on the mask that covered my eyes then
plopped on my black hat and sheathed my sword. Zorro. I was going out tonight
dressed as fucking Zorro.

I whipped back the curtain and walked into the middle of the
room, looking around the fancy-dress shop that we were all situated in. Some of
my friends whooped and whistled as a joke, so I did a little twirl, flicking
out my cape, laughing at how stupid I felt.
I seriously better not remember
this in the morning!

We were mostly all dressed as superheroes tonight. This was
apparently my dad’s idea, and he’d called ahead reserving all of the outfits
for tonight. My dad was dressed as Iron Man. Wayne was Spiderman. Russell, my
forty-five-year-old teammate, was dressed as Luke Skywalker. I burst out
laughing as I saw my father-in-law. He’d apparently not wanted to go for a
superhero tonight; instead, he opted to go as a 60s pimp. He was decked out in a
purple velvet suit, fake gold jewellery and a wide-brimmed, purple velvet hat
with leopard print trim on everything. He grinned at me and pulled on the
collar of his suit jacket, pouting, trying to look like a pimp – but not
pulling it off in the slightest.

“George, you are way too funny. This is where Rosie gets her
craziness from!” I chuckled, shaking my head as I snapped a couple of photos of
him while he posed with my dad.

Someone slapped my shoulder so I looked around to see Ashton
had come out of his changing cubicle. He was Batman. I laughed and elbowed him
in the fake rubber abs and shook my head. “Very sexy,” I commented, rolling my
eyes at him.

“Later we’ll see who would win if Batman were to fight Zorro
like you always wondered,” he suggested, grinning wickedly. “I’ve hired a
wrestling ring and we’re gonna see which superhero, or pimp daddy, would come
out on top of a superhero battle.” He rubbed his hands together excitedly. This
was something we’d discussed a lot whilst drunk over the years – which superhero
was the best. For me, Zorro kicked ass every time.

I laughed and looked back at George, who was busy strutting
in his suit and three-inch platforms. “Just don’t hurt my father-in-law. Rosie
would bitch me out big time if he couldn’t walk her down the aisle tomorrow.” I
laughed at George and shook my head. “You look
way
too comfortable in
that outfit, George.”

He grinned and nodded. “I used to wear this kind of thing
all the time when I was a kid.”

I frowned. “Just how old are you exactly?” I asked,
laughing.

“Still young enough to kick your ass,” he said, shrugging
and smirking at me.

“Leave that fighting talk for later,” I suggested, grinning.

Ashton looked around everyone. “Are we all ready?”

I shrugged, looking for anyone that was missing. There were
only eleven of us here. “Where’s Rick?” I asked, frowning. We all turned back
towards the changing rooms; there was one curtain still shut. “Rick, you ready,
bud?”

A loud groan came from behind the curtain. “I’m not going,”
he replied, his voice muffled.

Ashton and I both exchanged a quizzical glance before
heading over to the offending curtain that was shielding the last member of my ‘pussy-whipped
party’. Ashton pulled it back quickly and there stood Rick, dressed in a full,
skintight Superman outfit.

His eyes widened, as he looked over first me, and then
Ashton. Suddenly, his brow furrowed and he shook his head as his hand shot to
his crotch which was pretty much exposed in his tight and revealing outfit. He
looked around the group standing behind me, consisting of The Green Lantern,
Captain America, Optimus Prime and a couple more.

“Oh, man, this blows! Why do I have to be the only one in
actual spandex? You guys get muscle suits, and I get spandex? Someone up there
hates me. And, to top it all off, it’s freaking cold outside!” he whined,
shaking his head fiercely. “I’m not going out in this. There must be something
else,” he stated, looking around quickly.

Ashton grinned and rolled his eyes. “You’re going as
Superman! There wouldn’t be much of a battle if Superman wasn’t there, now,
would there?” he teased, slinging his arm around Rick’s shoulder and guiding
him out of the changing room. Ashton looked down at his watch. “Now it’s time
for the pièce de résistance! It took me forever to arrange this, so you’d
better appreciate it!” he said, grinning at me excitedly.

I frowned at him quizzically. “What are we doing?”

“You’ll see,” he replied, as the other boys whooped and
hollered excitedly.

Tears of joy stung my eyes. This was easily one of the best
things that had ever happened to me. I was snapping photos like a madman as
the
Jimmy Meddler walked down the carpeted aisle towards the wrestling ring where
we were all standing. I couldn’t breathe properly, and I was seriously making
myself look like a punk. Luckily for me, everyone had the same awed expressions
as I did; my dad was actually covering his mouth and jumping up and down.

We were in the famous recording studios where my childhood
heroes smacked the shit out of each other for our entertainment. I was
literally standing in the ring where my heroes had stood, watching as the most
incredible wrestler in the world walked towards me. His jet-black hair was
covered by a red bandana the same as usual, and a black vest with ‘The Meddler’
was covering his muscled chest. My mouth dropped open in awe as he climbed into
the ring, standing there at a mammoth six-feet-eight. At age fifty-nine, he
still took my breath away.

When he made a growling sound and tore his shirt in half,
throwing it at my feet, I just about lost it. Now it was my turn to scream like
a pre-pubescent girl who had just been hugged by Harry Styles. Ashton clapped
me on the back, grinning like an idiot. We’d spent many an hour when we were
young and stupid trying to re-enact some of this guy’s moves. He probably loved
him just as much as I did.

“This is a wedding gift, from me to you,” he stated,
snapping photos of Jimmy Meddler on his cell phone.

I stepped forward and prayed my voice would work when I
spoke to the man I always wanted to grow up as when I was a kid. “Oh, man, I’m
your biggest fan! I was a total Meddlermaniac when I was younger; I still am. I’ve
watched all your movies at least a hundred times. I had them all on video back
before DVDs were even invented.  You. Are. Awesome,” I gushed, raking my eyes
over him, shaking my head in bewilderment.

He grinned and held out his hand to me. “You must be Nate
Peters. It’s nice to meet you. I always wanted to meet my biggest fan,” he
joked, laughing his booming laugh that just made my eyes widen as I tried not
to squeal and throw myself at him for a hug.

I giggled. Actually giggled like a little girl. I knew I
needed to grow a pair, but I just couldn’t. Jimmy Meddler was standing in front
of me; this was a dream come true.
Christ, I love my best friend!

“Can I get a photo with you? My fiancée has a little thing
for you, too. Right, George?” I said, turning to look at my soon-to-be
father-in-law.

He nodded in confirmation. “Oh, yeah, she used to have
posters of you and everything.”

Jimmy grinned and wrapped his arm around me, pulling me to
his side. I laughed and tilted my head back to look at him.
Jeez, he’s tall!
I was six-foot, but he even made me feel small.

“So, is your girl hot? Maybe I should meet her,” Jimmy teased
as we posed for photos.

I laughed. “I really need to kick your ass if you’re
thinking about making a move on my girl. She’ll love me even more when I tell
her I gave The Meddler the smackdown,” I replied, laughing.

He raised one eyebrow and pulled back looking at me challengingly.
“In your dreams, Zorro. You’re not big enough to smackdown Jimmy Meddler.”

“Meaning no disrespect to you here, Mr Meddler, but when I
tell my girl about this tomorrow, you’re having your ass handed to you
regardless of the outcome of tonight,” I joked, winking at him.

He burst out laughing and slung his arm around my shoulder,
almost making my knees buckle under the sheer weight of it. “You’re all right,
Zorro. You’re all right,” he replied, nodding.

“The Meddler has agreed to teach us some moves and ref the
superhero battle,” Ashton said, grinning excitedly.

I groaned as I lay on my back, gasping for breath for
probably the eighth time in three minutes. We’d been play-fighting it out for
ages. Jimmy Meddler was showing us his moves; how to fall without getting hurt,
and showing us the tricks to being a professional wrestler. I was having the
time of my life. The only thing that would make this better was if Rosie and DJ
were here, too. We’d had the superhero battle already, but none of us were
taking it seriously because we were all too eager to get in the ring with The
Meddler. Ashton and I had got to the end, beating everyone to prove that Zorro
and Batman were the biggest badasses of all heroes, but we both quit before
seeing who would win. Apparently, we were short on time because they wanted the
ring cleared because there was an actual show being filmed in an hour.

The Meddler grinned and pushed himself off me, holding down
a hand to help me to my feet. I rubbed at my back, groaning as I looked at him
in awe. I looked back to Ashton. “Please tell me you recorded that! Jimmy
fucking Meddler just did a powerslam on me!” I cried excitedly.

He nodded quickly. “I got it. Do a suplex now!” he said
eagerly.

Jimmy laughed and shook his head. “That’s enough for today.
The poor guy is getting married tomorrow, that’s enough punishment for one
lifetime,” he protested, grinning at me.

I held my hand out and slapped him a high-five. My whole
body hurt, but that was so totally worth it. “You have just made my bachelor
party. This was freaking awesome! Thanks so much for doing this,” I gushed.

He laughed and strutted over to his bag he’d dumped in the
corner. When he turned back to me, he held out his ripped T-shirt and a signed
photo of himself. I gasped and practically snatched it out of his hands.

“Here, I got you this, too,” he said, turning and taking
something off Ashton. I held out my hand for whatever it was. This was just too
much. Meeting Jimmy Meddler, getting his ripped shirt. This night was
incredible!

Something wet and hard dropped into my hand. I tore my eyes
away from his autograph long enough to look what it was. I frowned when I saw a
bright pink dildo in the palm of my hand.

What the hell?

“Er, thanks. Umm… what’s that for?” I asked, shaking my head
and laughing at the randomness of it.

All the boys were laughing, laughing so hard they were
clutching their sides. Ashton was bent in half, his hands on his knees as he
gasped for breath. Even Jimmy was laughing his big booming laugh.

I frowned, getting even more confused. “I don’t think my
girl needs one of these. I can take care of that,” I stated, still trying to
work out what they were all in hysterics for.

That was when I saw what Ashton was holding. Realisation
suddenly washed over me as I tried to open my hand to drop the offending
object. I turned my hand over, but it was already welded to my palm.

My asshole friends had just superglued a bright pink dildo
to the palm of my hand, and Jimmy Meddler, my childhood hero, was the one who actually
passed it to me.

“You bitches suck,” I groaned, closing my eyes and imagining
walking into the ER asking for them to remove this.

Ashton reached out and grabbed my wrist, flipping my hand
over and poking at the bottom of it carefully. That was the moment I really
started to hate my friends.

Apparently, it was a
flashing
, bright pink dildo.
Just pure awesomeness.

Chapter Two

The assholes insisted we were to stop at every bar and do a
shot; then, when we got to the minibus that was at the end of the road, we
would apparently go to the hospital to get the dildo removed. By the time we
made it past five bars, I was actually growing accustomed to having it stuck to
my hand. It was like a glow stick, and I was moronically waving it over my head
to the beat of the music as we laughed and waited for our drinks.

It was only about eight in the evening, and I was already
wasted. When I flicked my eyes around, my vision seemed to take a second or two
to catch up with the movement. It was a little disorientating, but considering
I had been drunk thousands of times since I was legal to drink – and even
before I was legal, too – I could cope with it. However, I could just as easily
stop drinking and go home to bed. I could do what I told George I was going to
do earlier and call his daughter up for some nasty phone time. She went crazy
for that kind of thing. That was definitely being added to my plan at some
point in the night.

Ashton grinned and pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. “Time
for some calls,” he chirped. I laughed. This was something we hadn’t done in a
while. Prank calls. He held the phone out, grinning. It wasn’t his phone, we
had bought a cheap one specifically for this purpose; the number had been
blocked and didn’t receive incoming calls. It was only ever used for our
entertainment purposes. “Who wants to go first?” he asked, flicking his eyes
around the group.

Seth took the phone out of his hand, laughing. “Me!” He
dialled in a number; I knew it would be one of his family. That was our thing:
we each had to call a member of our family and prank them for at least one
minute. It could either be one phone call, or a combination of several calls,
as long as they lasted over a minute and were all to the same person. If they
guessed it was us, then you lost and had to down a shot from the ‘fish bowl’.
The fish bowl was disgusting. We literally bought one of every drink and mixed
them all together in a huge glass bowl or jug. I winced when I saw Ashton was
currently pouring a glass of JD and Coke, and followed it with a Malibu and
pineapple juice, then a whiskey chaser or two and some other coloured shots,
which made the whole thing turn a blue-green colour. I prayed I didn’t get
caught out because that drink was going to taste vile.

My dad and George had obviously never heard of this game
before. My dad shot me an accusing look. “This is why I get dodgy calls every
couple of weeks?” he asked. “That one from the Thai laundry factory that told
me if I didn’t come and collect my clothes, they were going to take me to court
and charge me rent for storing them for so long? That was you?”

I burst out laughing. That call had been awesome. I’d
managed to keep him on the line for a good five minutes while he explained he’d
never even heard of ‘I bang anything laundry services’. I’d had him on speaker
while he shouted the fake name out, telling me to take him to court, that his
son was a cop and that he didn’t even care.

Ashton slapped me a high-five, laughing his ass off. “That
was the best call ever. Nate still has the record for that one,” he said,
nodding at me proudly.

Seth waved his hand to get our attention and held one finger
to his lips, signalling for us to be quiet. I grinned and chewed on my lip,
trying not to laugh too loud and ruin it for him. “Hello, am I talking to a Mrs
Monterary?” he asked. I shook my head; he was pranking his mother. “Mrs
Monterary, this is Special Agent Pratt. I’m calling to inform you about a
pending lawsuit against you for copyright infringement. We have traced over
20GB of illegal downloading from your IP address. As you are most probably
aware, it is a crime to download pirated movies, music and literature. A
process server from my department will be at your house within the next
twenty-four hours to impound your computer and any other devices which are
found to contain illegally downloaded material,” he said, holding up his hand
for one of those fist punches.

My dad leant over to me. “This is a lot funnier when you’re
on the other side of it,” he whispered, laughing as he watched Seth, who was
currently arguing with his mom about how they can’t be wrong because his
department never made mistakes.

After less than a minute, he groaned and looked defeated. “Damn
it! How did you know it was me?” he whined, closing his eyes as Ashton poured
out a shot glass full to the brim with the toxic-looking drink. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll
see you Sunday for dinner, okay? Yeah, love you, too, Mom,” he replied,
snapping the phone shut and sliding it across the bar to me. He sighed and took
the glass, taking a couple of deep breaths before chugging it down, gagging a
couple of times as he did it.

I picked up the phone and dialled in Toni’s number; she was
Rosie’s sister, and I’d never pranked her before, so I had a pretty good chance
of pulling this off.

When Toni answered, I grinned and launched into my prepared
spiel. “Hi there, this is Wayne Kerr from Radio Heat. In thirty seconds, you’re
going to be live on the radio because your ex-partner, David, has answered
three questions correctly and is currently in the running to win a luxury
vacation to Barbados. When we get back on the air, I’m going to ask you three
general knowledge questions. If you get them correct, then both of you will win
the vacation. Oh, and please don’t use offensive language. We will be live on
the radio to over twelve million people,” I lied.

I heard her gasp and mumble something off the line. “Oh, my
God, seriously?” she cried.

“If you could just hold the line for thirty seconds,” I
added before putting my hand over the mouthpiece and laughing as she started
rambling about how she didn’t want to go on the radio. She kept asking how I
had got her number, had David given it to me, why had he chosen her to answer
questions with him. I didn’t respond to any of it, just looked at my watch,
waiting for my minute to be up, smirking at Ashton confidently.

Suddenly, I heard a familiar voice. “Nate Peters, you had
better not be pranking my little sister,” Rosie said down the line.

I laughed.
Aww, screw it.
“Hey, Stripes. How did you
know it was me?” I asked, rolling my eyes.

“Wayne Kerr, sounds like wanker. I knew it had to be you as
soon as she said who was calling,” she responded, laughing.

I grinned sheepishly. That was another rule; we always had
to throw in something obvious to give them a clue. Seth had used Special Agent
Pratt; I thought my selection was a pretty good name to use – obviously not. “Damn,
you got me. Thanks for that, now I have to drink something that’s gonna make me
sick in the morning,” I replied, wincing as Ashton poured me a drink.

“Go play your boy games and leave us alone. We’re having a
long conversation about you and you’re interrupting,” she teased. Rosie had her
girls over with her tonight, including both of our moms, our sisters, and
Ashton’s wife, Anna.

“I hope it’s all good stuff,” I responded.

She laughed. “Not really. You’re not exactly a good boy, are
you, Officer Peters?” she flirted.

I groaned when she called me that. She knew just how to get
me excited. I blew out a big breath and shook my head; I really had met my
match with Rosie. “Right, whatever. Try not to miss me too much tonight,” I stated,
wishing I was back there with her so I could see the smile I knew she’d be
sporting. “See you tomorrow.”

“Yep. G’night. Have fun,” she replied before cutting me off,
obviously wanting to get back to her girlie gossiping and drinking.

Ashton squeezed my shoulder. “Did you forget Toni was with
Rosie tonight?” he asked, rolling his eyes. I nodded in response. If I had
remembered that, I definitely wouldn’t have called her; Rosie sussed me too
easily. “That was a good one, though; I bet that would have worked if she wasn’t
there.”

I nodded in agreement. She definitely had no clue it was me.
Damn my fiancée for knowing me too well! I gripped the glass in my only free
hand and mentally counted to three, trying to psych myself up to drinking it.
On three, I swallowed the contents as quickly as I could. I heaved as it slid
down my throat, putting my other hand up to cover my mouth, but then heaving
again when the dildo poked me up the nose.

“My turn!” Ashton chirped. He took the phone and grinned. “I’m
calling my father-in-law,” he announced, tapping in the number.

There were collective gasps from the group. Ashton’s
father-in-law was the President of the United States. Not really someone you
should be prank calling, but then again, he adored Ashton so if he found him
out then he would probably laugh it off anyway. I had no idea how he was going
to get hold of him at this time of night, but then again he probably had a
private number for him.

“Good evening, sir,” Ashton sang in an extremely camp voice.
“I’m calling in response to your email we received today. Sorry to call you so
late in the day but I really needed to clarify a couple of details with you.
Your request was very specific, and it’s going to take me a good few hours to
arrange what you wanted.”

I looked at him curiously, wondering what on earth he was up
to.

“Well, I got your number from the email you sent us, sir.
This is the user LadiesLoveOral?” Ashton continued, not giving him a chance to
reply. “Well, like I was saying, we received your email about the male escort
you wanted. You say you want a blond man of Chinese origin, between the ages of
eighteen and twenty-five. Well I can certainly arrange that for you, but the
one blue eye and one brown thing really has us stumped. Would you be
disappointed with the escort wearing coloured contacts? You can get some very
real-looking ones nowadays.”

I was in hysterics just imagining President Spencer
listening to this. Ashton was probably going to get in some deep shit for this.

“What do you mean I have the wrong number? This was the
number provided on the email. Sir? Hello, are you there?” Ashton said. He
pulled the phone away from his ear and laughed. “He hung up on me. How long do
I have left?”

“About twenty seconds,” Seth announced, laughing and looking
at his watch.

Ashton dialled again, putting the phone to his ear. “I’m so
sorry, sir. The cleaners are in the building, and I think one of them must have
knocked out the power cord with the vacuum,” he said. I could see he was
struggling to stop himself from laughing as he listened to the response. I
would imagine President Spencer couldn’t exactly just tell a stranger down the
line who he was; after all, he didn’t want a guy who ran an escort company to
have his private phone number.

“Hmm, well, that
is
strange. I have your number here
clear as day. Your order for the escort was requested to attend a high-class
function with you next Thursday. Are you sure maybe someone there didn’t
request him? Maybe your wife or girlfriend was using your email and credit
card? Our fee of $2,000 has already been paid in full so maybe she was ordering
our services on your behalf?” Ashton suggested. He choked on his laughter as he
shook his head. “No, sir. I’m not suggesting your wife has a fetish for Chinese
men.”

Seth tapped his watch, signalling his time was up, and
Ashton pumped the air in celebration.

“Oh, my goodness. I’ve misdialled! That should be a four,
not a one. Oh, dear, I have fat fingers. I’m sorry to bother you, have a
pleasant evening.” He disconnected the call and did a little victory dance on
the spot.

“Oh, that was freaking awesome!” I chirped, shaking my head
in awe. The only thing that would have made it better was seeing the
President’s face when he was on the call.

Ashton did a little bow before holding the phone out to my
dad. “Evan, up for a little prank?”

My dad nodded and took the phone, seeming ridiculously eager.
I watched the keypad as he dialled; it looked like my Aunt Lucy’s number. He
was laughing already. There was no way he was going to pull this off; he had no
poker face at all. “Pizza Italiano, may I taker your order?” he asked in a
heavy Italian accent, closing his eyes and trying not to laugh down the phone. “I’m
sorry, ma’am, but you just call me. Can I taker your order?” he asked, adding
in wrong words for emphasis. “I not call you. I just pick up the phone and you
were there. Did you want I make you a pizza or not?”

I shook my head. This one was an old one, but a good one; he
would never make it last a minute though; this was a rookie mistake.

She hung up on him, so he dialled her again. “Pizza Italiano,
can I taker your order?” he repeated when she answered the phone. “It’s you
again? Look, I have very busy restaurant. I can’t be dealing with time-wasters.
Did you want to place order for pizza or not?” he snapped, grinning like an
idiot. Aunt Lucy was a little fiery at times, I would imagine she was letting
rip on the phone because he was covering the mouth piece, laughing.

She obviously hung up on him after her rant, so he dialled
her again. “Pizza Italiano.” He gasped dramatically. “Look, I don’t know who
you are, but if this is some kind of joke, then it’s not funny. I have a
business to run, so if you keep calling and wasting my time then I’m going to
contact the police!” His Italian accent slipped so he sounded just like
himself. He immediately slapped his forehead and groaned. “Yeah, sorry, Lucy. I
know, I know, I should be leading by example and whatnot. Hey, don’t blame me,
I’m not the reason he turned out the way he did!” he protested, punching me on
the arm. “Yeah, I’ll tell him. See you tomorrow at the wedding,” he added. He
turned to me and rolled his eyes. “She got me. Pass me the drink,” he groaned.

I patted his shoulder and smiled sympathetically. “Don’t
take it to heart, old man. I called her last week when I went out with Ashton,”
I said, chuckling darkly.