“I promised you a bachelor party.”

“Dude, let’s just go home. I’m full, tired, and we’ve got a plane to catch in the morning.”

Shepley frowned. “The girls have been lying on a beach in St. Thomas all day, and now they’re probably partying it up in a club.”

I shook my head. “We don’t go to clubs without each other. She wouldn’t do that.”

“She would if America planned it.”

I shook my head again. “No, she fucking wouldn’t. I’m not going into the strip club. Either pick something else, or take me home.”

Shepley sighed, and squinted his eyes. “What about that?”

I followed his line of sight to the next block over. “A hotel? Shep, I love ya, man, but it’s not a real bachelor party. I’m married. And even if I weren’t, I still wouldn’t have sex with you.”

Shepley shook his head. “There’s a bar in there. It’s not a club. Is that permitted on your long list of marriage rules?”

I frowned. “I just respect my wife. And yes, douche bag, we can go in there.”

“Awesome,” he said, rubbing his hands together.

We walked across the street, and Shepley opened the door. It was pitch-black.

“Uh . . .” I began.

Suddenly the lights turned on. The twins, Taylor and Tyler, threw confetti in my face, music began to blare, and then I saw the worst thing I’d ever seen in my life: Trenton in a man thong, covered in about ten pounds of body glitter. He had on a cheap, yellow wig, and Cami was laughing her head off, cheering him on.

Shepley pushed me in the rest of the way. My dad was on one side of the room, standing next to Thomas. They were both shaking their heads. My uncle Jack was on the other side of Thomas, and then the rest of the room was filled with Sigma Tau brothers and football players.

“I said no strippers,” I said, watching dumbfounded as Trenton danced around the room to Britney Spears.

Shepley burst into laughter. “I know, brother, but looks like the stripping happened before we got here.”

It was a train wreck. My face screwed into disgust as I watched Trenton bump and grind his way across the room—even though I didn’t want to. Everyone in the room was cheering him on. Cardboard cutouts of tits were hanging from the ceiling, and there was even a booby cake on a table next to my dad. I’d been to several bachelor parties before, and this one had to win some sort of a freak prize.

“Hey,” Trenton said, breathless and sweaty. He pulled a few yellow strands of fake hair from his face.

“Did you lose a bet?” I asked.

“As a matter of fact, I did.”

Taylor and Tyler were across the room, slapping their knees and laughing so hard they could barely breathe.

I slapped Trenton’s ass. “You look hot, bro.”

“Thanks,” he said. The music started and he shook his hips at me. I pushed him away, and, undeterred, he danced across the room to entertain the crowd.