Page 76 of Passing Ships
“Okay. I’ll go snap a branch, and we’ll mix you up a homemade aftershave and see if we can calm that angry beaver down before the bachelorette party.”
Once I get her and her nether regions calmed down, I go with her to pick LeLe up from her parents’ place, and I take them both out for ice cream.
If ever there was an occasion to have ice cream for lunch, this is it.
Leia is overjoyed and on a sugar high, and we find out that Momma C made her chocolate chip pancakes for breakfast. Therefore, we take her to the park to burn off some of the extra gas in her tank before handing her off to Sabel for the night while we head to Wilmington for the bachelorette festivities.
Avie struggles.
I do my best not to give her shit.
It’s hard, but I’m that good of a friend.
Lennon
I shower at Wade’s house, and the two of us head straight to Whiskey Joe’s.
When we arrive, Anson waves us over to a corner table that’s left of the bar, where he, Parker, and Sebastian are seated.
A tray of clear shots is sitting in the center, and Anson hands one to each of us.
“Fellas, we are getting wasted tonight.”
I bring the shot glass to my nose. “What the hell is this, cheap tequila?” I ask.
“Don’t know. Those girls over there sent it to the table,” he says.
Wade sets his shot back on the tray and turns to the bar. He calls to the bartender. Her eyes come to him, and he lifts two fingers. The sultry redhead lifts her chin in acknowledgment but continues to talk to the customers in front of her.
The place is packed tonight.
Whiskey Joe’s is a large country-themed bar just off the island. It’s owned by our buddy Brewster Cartwright. Whose family owns Cartwright Motorsports and Carolina Automotive LLC. The Cartwrights are also a powerhouse family in stock car racing. Brew lives on the island during the racing offseason, but at the moment, he is either in Charlotte, working at Cartwright’s home office, or on the road and stopping at whatever city is hosting that weekend’s race.
The bar is hosting a popular Nashville band tonight, which explains the full house.
It’s loud. And the service is slow.
The redhead who looks to be in charge does her best to keep our drinks coming, but the traffic at her bar is insane.
Parker keeps walking up to ask about our order, which does nothing to speed things up. I’d get mad, but he is agitated enough for us all.
Anson’s phone vibrates on the table, and he looks down to read a message. He looks at me and grins, then starts slapping his hand on the table to get everyone’s attention.
“Finish your drinks, fellas. Our chariot has arrived,” he says as he stands.
Sebastian looks up at him. “Chariot?”
“Yep. Donnie Dale has agreed to be our chauffeur for the evening,” Anson explains.
“Where are we going?” Sebastian asks.
“Let’s just say, it’s a more appropriate venue to usher out your single years. Now, hurry up. I’m going to go settle our tab at the bar.”
Anson walks off, and my eyes go to Parker, who is chugging the last of his beer.
“Spill,” I demand.
He swallows and runs the back of his hand over his mouth before he answers, “We’re going to a strip club in Wilmington.”