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Porter
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“COME ON SON! HAVE A gummy bear, this is a blooming bachelorette party, not a funeral!” Mr. Kinsella offers and I eye the bag suspiciously. It says THC fruit flavored gummy bears.
I take a sip of my whiskey and look outside our booth at Vee, glad that it’s early and the club isn’t crowded yet.
My eyes meet Blake’s and he’s the one to address Magnolia’s dad. “Richard, uh, thank you but you should put those away. Marijuana is illegal in the state of New York. Plus I’m a police officer and they all work in the medical field aside from Peaches. All it would take is a random drug test and we’d all be in huge trouble.”
Richard is totally undeterred by Blake’s warning and that makes me wonder how many of those gummy bears he’s already had.
“Well, all the more for us, Peaches!” he says passing the bag to Peaches with the result of being declined again because as a part of her rehabilitation program, Gemma’s ex is completely sober.
“Dungnabbit, you youngsters don’t know how to party! We’re here to help this young lady say goodbye to single-dom, y’all must let loose at least a little bit!”
Yup, I can’t see his pupils from across the table but I’m willing to bet they’re probably huge. I think my future father-in-law is high.
Not that it matters anyway, I think struggling not to laugh at his eyeliner rimmed eyes and the huge cross earring on his right lobe.
We told Richard that tonight is 80s night at Vee and being the first weekend of the month there’s also going to be a live band. I guess that’s how he went to a concert forty years ago and I must say the guy looks like David Lee Roth and Prince had a love child, down to the spandex and the bedazzled purple leather jacket he’s wearing.
“So, we’ll be back in two months for your own wedding,” Richard says looking at me, Max and Blake, “have y’all decided who’s the one who’ll sign the marriage license?”
“Not yet,” Max explains as he brings a pitcher of beer to the table. “Your daughter said that she really doesn’t know how to choose, so we’re letting fate decide for us.”
Richard looks puzzled. “How?”
I explain, “We’ll just count the occasions in which each of us has helped Magnolia out of her messes and the one with the highest number between the proposal and our wedding day will get to be the official husband. But it doesn’t really matter, we’re all going to be married to her in our hearts.”
I see where my fiancée gets her stubbornness, Richard doesn’t look satisfied with our solution. “But that’s not very manly! Trust me, a woman wants to be won over. You guys should settle that with some kind of sport challenge or even a tournament like in the Middle Ages ...”
Yeah, fuck no. But Richard has another idea.
“A dick measuring contest!” he shouts, galvanized by the alcohol, the edibles and probably the idea of his daughter getting married in general.
We all chuckle, including Gemma and Peaches. “Eww, dicks! Please let’s do it another time.” They both joke finishing their beers just as everyone is going towards the elevated area where the DJ normally sits.
Tonight the “stage” has been set up for the live concert. The 80s band performing is one of my favorites, it’s called Deer Girl they do David Lee Roth covers and they’re absolutely awesome. You’d never tell that the guys wearing spandex, with wild long hair and makeup in their real life are a bunch of accountants from Syracuse.
The show is absolutely amazing and we all rock to the 80s music and the awesome dancing. The band frontman is a dead ringer for a young David Lee Roth down to the acrobatics on stage.
The band takes a short break during which they get drinks at the bar and chat with the patrons. Richard is particularly enthusiastic, shaking hands with each musician and chatting up a storm with the lead singer. There’s a minute they’re chuckling like old friends, the background music on the surround system too loud to be able to guess what they’re talking about but Magnolia’s dad seems to be having an even better time than our bachelorette.
The second part of the show is as good as the first one and their rendition of Yankee Rose is absolutely perfect, so much so that the whole room is dancing and jumping.
“Thank you, Silver Springs,” the lead singer says into the microphone at the end of the final set, “and thanks to the amazing staff here at Vee, you guys are always fantastic. But before we go, we want to congratulate Gemma. We believe she’s getting married on Sunday!”
Everyone cheers for our bachelorette, this must be Richard’s doing, he must’ve asked the band to mention the wedding. I clap him on the shoulder, pleased by what was such a sweet gesture that I almost miss the rocker’s next words.
“But Gemma isn’t the only one getting married soon. I believe we have three bachelors with a dilemma in the audience. Richard, where are you, bud? Come to the stage and bring Porter, Max and Blake.”
We look at each other, wondering what this is all about but follow Richard up on stage. I hope they aren’t going to make us sing, Karaoke is more Max’s or Blake’s thing, I’m totally hopeless when it comes to signing.
Here we are, standing on stage near the singer with my brothers and Richard by my side in a straight line.
I notice how the lead singer and my father-in-law seem to have done their eyeliner in the exact same way and grin. It must be an 80s thing.
“So, did I understand correctly that you three are in love with the same woman? And you’re trying to decide who gets to marry her?” he says into the mic.
The audience gasps and murmurs of curiosity reach us before Rose, the bartender shouts, “Well fuck, with three hotties like those, she’s a lucky girl for sure! If I were her, I wouldn’t choose!”
There’s laughter in the audience and everyone is staring, so I explain that we’re all in a relationship with our fiancée but we need to choose who actually gets to officially marry her. The blond singer nods, wiping some sweat off his forehead with a heavily tattooed arm. I’m sweating too, partially because it’s hot under the stage lights and partially because while I’m not ashamed of what we have with Magnolia, I wasn’t expecting to be outed to a large crowd.
“Fuck, that’s awesome! I’m all for free love but you do need to choose who gets to sign that license. Your father-in-law’s right, there’s only one way to do it. The man with the biggest cock, gets to marry the girl!”
What the fuck did the guy just say? I must’ve misheard him or must be drunker than I thought. “But you’re in luck, you found yourselves an impartial audience. At my three, you guys drop your pants and we’ll get the audience to vote on the biggest dick by applause. Let’s begin with you, Porter, on my three—”
Before I can utter one word, Blake intervenes to stop this insanity. “Hmm, thank you dude, but no. We definitely appreciate your help but we’re in a public place and no one’s dropping trou— on stage.”
Thank God, I think but it’s short lived because the rocker shakes his head vigorously. “Come on, man! I thought we were measuring dicks here, not pussies. Your father-in-law will be disappointed to know that his daughter’s marrying three pussies, am I right? It’s not hard, I’ll show you. Come on, Richard on three. One, two—”
“Three!” Magnolia’s father shouts and both he and the Deer Girl singer, open their flies, pulling their cocks out and showing them to the audience by fisting their junk and wiggling it proudly around.
Before any of us can react, it’s complete chaos; the crowd is going crazy, laughing, cat calling, whistling. Mostly egging us on and chanting “Show us your dick, show us your dick!”
“No one move! SSPD! Nobody show any more dicks. This is a public place and you’re under arrest for indecent exposure!”
A guy in the audience yells elbowing his way toward the three steps that lead on stage. He’s waving his police badge in front of himself and he’s almost on stage when the singer – one hand still fisting his flaccid cock – pushes the off-duty cop down. The guy doesn’t budge but successfully climbs on stage getting the singer in a headlock.
“Hey, let my buddy go!” The drummer tries to separate the two guys, grabbing the back of the cop’s shirt. That’s when Blake decides to intervene stepping forward and attempting to pull the drummer off the other two men.
“Motherfucker!”
Slam!
The guitarist – who did a remarkable job trying to look like Steve Vai – swings his guitar, hitting the back of Blake’s head.
The noise is sickening as the musical instrument breaks in two pieces and my best friend goes down like a sack of potatoes.
“Blake!” Max and I yell in unison and from then on it’s complete mayhem as fights start on and off stage. Max and I work on dragging an unconscious Blake out of the way to protect him from being trampled by the band members and the audience who are hitting, punching and kicking, often blindly, until a few cops storm the place and begin arresting everyone that doesn’t manage to flee the scene.
Blake’s loaded on an ambulance and Gemma goes with him while Max, Richard and I are all handcuffed and rounded into a police van.
I don’t say anything during the short ride to the police station, I’m mostly worried about Blake. I try to tune out Richard and the Deer Girl singer who keep laughing with their flies still open.
“Please put me in a different cell from those two,” I plead as I’m manhandled inside the police station. I’m sure this whole thing will be solved as soon as someone begins taking statements. I don’t know what will happen to the guitarist for hitting Blake but other than that, most of the punches were thrown off stage, so I hope that the indecent exposure will end up in a warning. I’m absolutely exhausted, worried about my best friend and I don’t know how we’ll explain this whole clusterfuck to Magnolia.
“Porter? Max? Dad?”
I’m so worried about what she’ll say that for a second I think I have auditive hallucinations but as I raise my head to look around, I see Magnolia, her mother and Jen being walked toward the holding cells in handcuffs.
“Mags, what are you doing here?” I gasp, dragging my feet and managing to stop the cop who’s trying to steer me in the opposite direction.
“It’s a long story. Is Blake here? I swear it’s not as bad as it looks, it’s just a little misunderstanding.”
“Speak for yourself, young lady!” her mother scolds her. “Someone still owes me a stripper and a lap dance!”
What the fuck? That’s my first thought but as I look into my mother-in-law’s green eyes – so uncannily similar to her daughter’s – I immediately know by looking at her dilated pupils that whatever happened, copious amounts of alcohol and edibles are probably to be blamed for this.