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Read part one here.
“…and, I swear to god, she looked me dead in the eyes, took my finger out of her ass, and tried to put it in my own mouth! Latvian girls are always more trouble than they’re worth.”
Their table erupted with raucous laughter as Jack finished up telling a much-exaggerated story of his previous night with the vigor of someone who either doesn’t know, or more likely, doesn’t care that everyone in the restaurant could hear him. Eric covered his face with his hands, partly to muffle his laughter, and partly to shield himself from the glare of a mother with two small children sitting one table over.
They were at their favorite brunch spot, and although it was barely past noon on a Saturday, none of them would have been able to pass a breathalyzer test. One of their old college friends had just moved into the city, and much to the dismay of everyone else in the restaurant, they had regressed back to their 21-year-old selves. As they continued to catch up, retell old fraternity stories, and take full advantage of the bottomless mimosa deal, the conversation steered, as it always did, to girls.
For the first time in a long time, their whole group of friends were mostly single. Eric, of course, had recently broken up with his long-time girlfriend. Jack was always single. Andrew had recently had a messy faux-breakup with a girl who was not aware that he thought they were exclusive. He maintained that it was mutual, of course. Kyle alleged he was single, although there was speculation as to how long that would last, considering the amount of time him and his Bumble date from last month had been spending together. Regardless, for the moment, it seemed as though all of them were on the same relationship page, and with that came exciting opportunities.
“So, how’s the first month of the single life been treating you?” Kyle asked.
“It’s definitely been more fun than your last month of single life you’re currently going through,” Eric responded with a smirk, but internally, he knew that wasn’t true.
It had been a hard month. He was still shaking off the rust of a three-year relationship and had struggled in the dating game. He recalled with a cringe some of the rejections he’d had. The girl who fleeced him out of three drinks before bringing up her boyfriend. The promising Hinge connection that he’d drunkenly triple-texted. The ill-advised bar makeout he’d had with an older woman just the night before. The past few weeks had taken a toll on his confidence, and he needed a win. And suddenly, he knew just how to get it.
“Speaking of the single life, you know what we should do? This our first time all being able to chase girls together since college. What the fuck are we doing wasting it going to the same shitty bars every weekend? It’s time for a fucking boys trip.”
Eric looked around at the guys surrounding him and knew instantly that his words had been well received. Smiles lit up, eyes widened, and Andrew even took his sunglasses in surprised joy. His eyes showed that he was three drinks away from blacking out, but more importantly, pure excitement.
“Fuuuuck yesss,” Jack exclaimed as he grabbed Eric by the shoulders and shook him in violent happiness. “Let’s get this bitch planned. Where are we going?”
“VEGAS,” Andrew slurred, before getting immediately shut down by the rest of the group.
“Fuck that,” Eric responded. “I’m not trying to drop three grand on a weekend none of us remember again.”
“Agreed,” Jack chimed. I’m still paying off the hotel bill for, and I quote, “cleaning and detailing the entire suite to make it suitable for future residents. Also, Andrew’s not allowed to drink Hennessey on all future trips.”
Cries of “seconded,” and “thirded,” quickly rang out from around the table. Andrew placed his sunglasses back over his eyes and looked down in shame.
Suddenly, Eric knew exactly where they had to go. “Guys. What about Vegas light? Somewhere with gambling, clubs, and the added bonus of a lake, all for a quarter of the price?”
Kyle smiled broadly, already knowing the answer. “You motherfucker. Lake Tahoe it is.”
The rest of the brunch was a whirlwind of drunken planning. In between Bloody Marys and Salty Dogs, the guys coordinated Google calendars, invited other friends, and searched for lodging. Finally, after an hour of very organized drinking, the trip had come together. Looking at three different phones and some illegible scribbles on a napkin, Eric slowly spelled out the plan, his excitement growing with every word.
“Okay, here it is. Three weeks from now, we’re jumping in my car and driving to our dope, two-story-cabin with a hot tub on the south shore because we’re big ballers and that’s how we roll. Matt and Tommy are meeting us later because their bosses are communists and won’t let them take half-days on Friday. Andrew is in charge of getting party favors. Jack is in charge of reminding Andrew’s drunk ass to get party favors when he doesn’t remember this conversation tomorrow. Kyle ‘knows some girls in Tahoe who want to party with us,’ which we all know is bullshit, but we’re letting him believe in his fantasy. Yup, fuck you too, buddy. Anything I’m missing?
Looking at the faces around him, Eric had no doubt of what a great idea this trip would be. He could shed all the worry of work, life, and more importantly, the breakup. He was going to do nothing but drink, relax, and gamble with his best friends for a weekend, and it would be fantast-
“Oh yeah, one thing.” Jack interrupted his train of thought. “Should we check if there’s a senior center near our cabin, because as we all know from last night, you loooove grandmas.”
“Goddamn it, she was maaaybe 35, you ass-“ Eric’s protests were drowned out in jeers and laughter as, once again, the table erupted. “Fuck these guys,” Eric thought. Tahoe is going to be a blast. .