Will leaned back against the brick fa?ade, hands in his pocket and suit jacket tucked in the crook of his arm. “So how are we continuing this weekend of debauchery? Dinner and then what? Skydiving? Virgin sacrifice? Matching tattoos to commemorate the loss of Ben’s balls?”
I smirked at him. Will had become a fixture in our lives ever since Max and Sara had reconciled. The five of us saw each other several times a week for lunches, dinners, and shows. Will was the designated bachelor of the group, and seemed to enjoy reminding us that Max and I were *-whipped non-men. “The thing you couldn’t possibly understand, Will, is there is a benefit to fucking only one woman: she learns exactly what to do. I’m more than happy to give Chloe full access to my balls.”
At this Henry stepped away from the fountain again and moved toward Will. “Besides, a hundred bucks says you couldn’t even find a virgin in this place.”
Will glanced down to Henry’s waiting palm and laughed. “We’ve only been out of that club for two minutes and you’ve just thrown away a hundred-dollar poker chip and offered another hundred-dollar bet. I can’t wait to see what you do in an actual casino.”
“I win money,” Henry said, pounding his chest with drunken machismo, before wincing.
I groaned, scrubbing my face with my hand. “I can’t take you anywhere.”
“You just got a lap dance, Benny,” Henry said, shoving my shoulder. “How are you crabby? You should be smiling like a fool.”
I turned in the direction of Max’s laughter. “Ignore him,” he told the others while motioning to me. “Our Ben’s just feeling a bit frustrated is all.”
Fucking Max. With his hands in his pockets and that dopey smile on his face, he was a portrait of nonchalance, and the exact opposite of everything I felt.
I could strangle Chloe right now—a feeling I’d grown increasingly familiar with since the day we met. All this time and she could still push my buttons like no other. To be honest, I wasn’t entirely sure which of us was more fucked up: her for getting off on teasing me like this, or me for enjoying it so damn much.
“So . . . plans?” Will repeated, pushing away from the building. “Are we standing here all night watching Bennett throw a fit or. . . ?”
Max checked his watch. “Dinner,” he said. “Mum made us reservations for the Steakhouse over at the Wynn. Supposed to be top-notch.”
Looking for our driver, I turned to look down the street, and a flash of green caught my eye at the opposite corner. Chloe. I’d last seen her with Sara, all bright eyes and teasing smiles as she’d left me inside the club. Now they waited on the sidewalk, arms outstretched as they attempted to hail a cab.
I blinked quickly to Max, who was busy arguing with Will and Henry about whether it was physically possible to eat a twenty-four-ounce porterhouse in less than fifteen minutes. Perfect.
I spotted our car as it rounded the corner and began its way up the drive toward us, and realized I’d have to act quickly. With only the vaguest threads of a plan in place, I grimaced, hunching over and pressing a hand to my stomach.
“You okay over there, Ben?” Will asked, eyebrows raised.
“Fine, fine,” I said, waving him off. “My stomach’s just a little . . . I think my ulcer’s acting up.”
Max narrowed his eyes. “You have an ulcer?”
“Yes,” I said, nodding, and sucking in breath for added effect.
“You,” he repeated. “An ulcer.”
I straightened a little. “Is there a problem?”
He scratched his eyebrow and looked at me skeptically. “Suppose I’m just having a hard time wrapping my head around the idea that the great and powerful Bennett, the one whose blood-pressure barely blinks even in the most stressful meetings and has zero fucks to give about anyone’s opinion”—he motioned between all three of them—“including ours,” he added, “has an ulcer.”
Our car pulled up to the curb in front of us just as a taxi stopped in front of Sara and Chloe.
“Well, I do,” I said, meeting his stare again. Our driver opened the door and waited. Everyone waited, eyes moving from Max to me and back again.
“Why is this the first I’m hearing of this ulcer business?” Henry asked.
“Because you’re not my doctor or my mommy,” I said. They all stared at me in silence, looking various degrees of concerned or, in Max’s case, doubtful. “Look, why don’t you all take the car while I run to the pharmacy. I saw one just down the street.”
Max continued to watch me over the car door. “Why don’t you just come with us and we’ll stop on the way?”
“Not necessary,” I said, waving him off. “I’ll have to call it in and I don’t want anyone waiting on me. You guys go on ahead; I’ll pick up my prescription and meet you at the restaurant.”
“Fine by me,” Henry said, and climbed into the car.
“We can wait,” Will offered, though halfheartedly. It was clear everyone but Max was willing to let a man get some medicine for his damn ulcer.