Page 31 of Perfect Storm
Adam is at the bar with Dylan. I haven’t seen any staff around, but there is a guy tending the bar. Brooke goes to join her best friend, and I head to the bar.
“Don’t know about you, but I’m fucking speechless,” I say as I nod to the bartender. He hands over a bottle of beer. I thank him, then focus on my best friend. He glances at the girls, then back at me. “Dude, let her be.”
Adam scowls. “You don’t get it. You will when Brooke is pregnant,” he frowns and his eyes dart to mine.
I hold up a hand without letting Dylan see. He is allowed to talk about babies without me freaking out. Sure, it still hurts what I went through when I lost a baby I hadn’t even known existed. It doesn’t mean I can’t be happy for Ad and Jenna.
“Yeah, that is way, way in the future,” I tell him. “I didn’t know you were planning on having kids this soon,” I say.
Dylan sips his drink, still standing beside us, looking like he wants to leave.
“You and Ocean want kids?” I bring him into the conversation.
“Nah, man. I’m only twenty-six,” he says. And I get that. I’m thirty-two and we’re not ready.
“It wasn’t planned, but we have discussed it,” Adam answers reluctantly. “When I found out she was pregnant,” he looks at her again, and I think he may even be slightly misty eyed. “It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”
“Well, I’m proud of you,” I slap his back and Dylan laughs.
“I’m glad you feel you had some hand in it,” Adam deadpans.
“Well, she does like my hugs,” I wink at him. Winding Adam up is one of my favorite things to do.
“Has anyone seen Alessa or Jordan yet?” Dylan asks, finishing his beer and placing it on the bar. The guy offers him another, and he nods. “They’re dragging this out.”
“Jordan is going to do something stupid like sky dive into a field, or come out riding a horse,” Adam says.
“My money is on the full-on John Wayne experience. Six shooters at his hips and all,” I say. “Brooke and I were discussing the merits of assless leather chaps earlier, too.”
“No one wants to hear about that,” Adam recoils. “I’ve seen enough of your ass to last me a lifetime. And Jordan’s.”
“He wouldn’t do that, right?” Dylan looks alarmed.
“I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve seen his swinging dick,” I add to Adam’s comment.
When you travel with guys for so long, you end up getting an eyeful of things you never wanted to see. Jordan’s dick didn’t need to make an appearance as much as it had, but that is Jordan. He has no shame.
“Remember that time he wore a mankini on stage?” I laugh.
“Fuck, I forgot about that,” Adam says, fighting a grin.
Bianca had lost her mind. As had the crowd. It ran in the news for weeks after. His bare ass on covers of magazines and going viral on the internet.
We’d been playing an open-air concert in Boston. It was cold as fuck. None of us knew he had it on under his clothes and while me and Nick were doing a guitar solo, he stripped off and came running around his drum kit.
I almost snapped my guitar strings. Nick had been on the floor crippled with laughter. When he ran to the front of the stage, he turned around and showed everyone the material going right up his ass crack.
Ever the professional showman, Adam made a joke about his tan lines, his face dead straight.
Had to admit, his antics kept us laughing over the years.
“He’s more respectable these days,” I say, and Adam huffs a laugh. “Okay,” I hold up a hand. “How about he doesn’t pull random shit then, not like he used to? I mean this.” I wave an arm at the expanse of the ranch. “This is not Jordan at all.”
“True,” Adam nods.
Everyone else is on the patio now. More drinks are flowing and the smells coming from the grill, which I hadn’t noticed when we first came out, are making my mouth water.
Whitesnake is playing on the sound system. I nod to the speaker.