“And that would be a negative for you why?” Trey said around the sucker in his mouth. “We know you get off on that shit. And if she punishes you by making you watch her spank chicks, sign me up for some of that.” His words were further garbled by the barbell in his tongue.
Eric wondered what he’d interrupted when he’d called Trey earlier. Eric knew the guy only wore the barbell for special occasions. And Eric was pretty sure that weddings didn’t count as special occasions to Trey.
Jace stared at his boots as he said, “Mistress V has a group of six coeds coming over tonight. They think they want to try out some BDSM after their book club read some kinky novel.”
“Ooo,” Trey said. “Maybe I should lend you a hand. Six women at once. Not sure if even Sed’s gone to that extreme.”
“Maybe a few times,” Sed said with a deep laugh.
“So what did you do to deserve this hellish punishment, Tripod?” Eric asked with a snort.
“Not a thing. She needs my assistance is all. Aggie thinks she can turn at least half of them into dommes when they use me as their plaything for the night. And watching a bunch of young women spank each other after I’ve been worked over for a couple of hours is bound to make my alone time with Aggie extra hot.”
“I totally understand the appeal of hitting you, Tripod. I just don’t get why Aggie lets other people abuse her sub.”
“I’m not her sub, Eric,” Jace said, pinning him with an annoyed stare. “I just get off on the pain.”
Eric lifted both hands in surrender. “My mistake.” He knew how hard Jace could hit when he was ticked off. And the only stars Eric wanted to see for the rest of the day were the ones in Rebekah’s eyes when she looked at him.
“Okay, Eric,” Sed said, scratching his neck and finding the cloudless sky a bit too interesting. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready or something? I thought you were getting married today.”
He was. Every other concern fled his mind in an instant. He shook out his tuxedo to find Trey had brought the pants and jacket, but no shirt or vest or tie or shoes.
“Trey?” Eric questioned. “Where’s the rest of it?”
“The rest of it?”
“The shirt and shoes and stuff.”
“You said to bring your lucky tuxedo. You didn’t say anything about a shirt or shoes.”
“You don’t expect me to wear this with a T-shirt and my Cons, do you?”
After a moment of reflection, all four members of his band nodded in unison.
“Yep,” said Brian. “I’d totally expect that.”
“Reb won’t mind. She gets you,” Jace said. “Like the way Aggie gets me.”
“And Myrna gets me,” Brian added.
“And Jess gets me,” Sed said.
“Psh, no one gets you,” Eric said. “Jess just puts up with you.”
That earned him a teeth-jarring smack in the back of the head, which he probably deserved.
Eric slipped the tuxedo jacket on over his white T-shirt. He stared down at his belly, but couldn’t really tell how ridiculous the well-cut jacket looked without a proper shirt and tie.
“She won’t care,” Jace assured him and patted him on the back.
“I’m sure her mother will.”
“And that bothers you why?” Trey asked.
Eric shrugged. Maybe because his only memory of his real mother was her saying goodbye when she’d left him with child protective services. To tell the truth, he didn’t really remember her at all. Not what she looked like. Not the sound of her voice. He didn’t remember any of it. He just remembered what it felt like to wait for her. And wait. And wait. Only to finally realize that she wasn’t coming back because he wasn’t worth her time. The stupid bitch wasn’t worth his time either.
Eric and Mrs. B hadn’t started off on the best of terms, but he legitimately hoped that one day she’d let him call her Mom. Not that he would say any of that to the guys. Well, maybe Jace. Jace could understand where he was coming from, but the other guys wouldn’t really get it. Trey’s mother was eccentric but unabashedly loving, Sed had the poster mom for woman of the year, and Brian’s mother was a hottie who could not be ignored. Claire Sinclair wasn’t very affectionate, Eric supposed, but what the woman lacked in nurturing, she more than made up for with a fine body and supermodel face. Brian obviously wouldn’t care that his mom looked hot in a bikini, but all of their mothers were better than Eric’s. Even Jace’s mother wasn’t all bad. At least she’d taught him to play the piano before she’d died. It was something. Eric had nothing to cling to. Not even memories or photographs.
Eric wasn’t sure why he was even thinking about his junkie whore of a mother today. He’d abandoned her memory the way she’d abandoned him long ago and was better for it. He hadn’t really thought about her for over a decade. Not since he’d changed his last name from Anderson to Sticks. The name he would give his new wife. The one he’d chosen for himself. Now that he was no longer an eighteen-year-old punk with a chip on his shoulder, he realized Sticks was a pretty silly name for a drummer. Regardless, he was proud that Rebekah had chosen Sticks to be her name as well.
“Are you still with us, Sticks?” Brian asked.
“Yeah,” he said, surprised by how raw his voice sounded around the tightness in his throat.
It rattled him that even after all this time his mother could still get to him. She’d probably died long ago, and he was sure the world was a better place without her. He refused to give her another thought today. At least he’d try not to think of her. Or wonder if she’d be happy for him.