One Wild Night (6 page)

I groaned and just decided to go with it. I gripped the side
of the cape and whipped it up to cover my face. “If I sing in costume, then
hell yeah,” I joked, pulling out the fake sword that was strapped to my waist
and hitting Ashton on the arm with it.

“Ow! That’s not fair, all I have are these stupid freaking
bat things!” he whined, pulling out a couple of plastic bats from his utility belt
and throwing one at me. It soared over my head and plopped into the toilet
bowl. “Whoops, there goes your dad’s deposit,” he said, laughing wickedly.

I laughed as the boys practically jumped me, forcing me out
of the door whilst they sang ‘I will always love you’ at the top of their
voices, making me groan and shake my head as everyone in the bar turned to look
at us.

“Time to leave?” I asked, looking at Rick hopefully. He
smiled and nodded in agreement.

George jumped up and down on the spot, clapping his hands
like a three-year-old girl. “Yay, finally, dancing!” he chirped, wincing as
everyone within arm’s length of him reached out and slapped the back of his head
for embarrassing himself.

Chapter Four

We were play fighting and trying out our newly learned
wrestling moves on each other as we laughed our way out of the door. Some of
the boys were totally hammered already, stumbling into things and slurring
their words. That was mostly the ones that didn’t come out and drink with us
very much – like Russell, my dad, and of course George, who I’d found a new
found appreciation for. He was an awesome drunk.

“Guys, what’s the time?” I asked. My head was starting to
ache where we’d been drinking for too long. I either needed to go home and go
to sleep, or drink some more to push past the headache.

“One in the morning,” Ashton chirped, slinging his arm
around my shoulder. “And, no, we’re not going home yet.”

I sighed and nodded. It looked like it was option two we
were going for. “Fine. Let’s go dance to stop George whining,” I suggested, nodding
over my shoulder at him.

We headed to a club then. When we were all in and had found
a table, we started another drinking competition. This one was word related and
quicker than the prank calling we’d done earlier.

“Right then, so I’ll start by saying the name of an animal.
The next person has to say an animal starting with the last letter of mine. So,
for example, I say cat, the next person would have to think of an animal
beginning with T. Got it?” I asked, looking at George hopefully.

He nodded, and my dad sat forward in his seat and frowned. “Okay,
so you say cat, and I say T?” he asked, looking confused.

Everyone burst out laughing and I shook my head. “Just watch
the first few people and you’ll pick it up as we go along. All right?” I
suggested, winking at him. I turned to Ashton, who was sitting next to me. “Rhino,”
I started the game.

“Octopus,” he replied instantly. We were both pros at all
drinking games.

“Siberian Tiger,” Brad said proudly.

Russell chewed on his lip for a second before he answered. “Red
Panda?”

George winced and looked around for help. “Alligator!” he
chirped finally.

Everyone turned to my dad, looking at him expectantly. “T,”
he said, shrugging and looking seriously confused.

I choked on my laughter and pushed a shot in his direction. “Better
luck next time, old timer,” I teased.

He frowned. “But you said I had to say T!” he protested,
shaking his head fiercely.

Ashton laughed and grabbed his empty bottle of beer. “Let’s
just spin an empty bottle and do it that way. It’s just luck of the draw then,”
he suggested.

My dad looked at him questionably. “So we’ve moved onto
kissing games now? I like you guys and stuff, but I don’t think I’m up for that
kind of thing.” Everyone burst out laughing at him. If it wasn’t for the fact I
looked exactly like him, I would be seriously worried that my mom had an affair
and I was fathered by someone else.

We played until I started to feel sick. Some of the boys had
fanned out and were dancing with a few girls. George, Rick and Russell had been
dragged off by a group of girls who thought they were the cutest things ever in
their outfits. George was currently laughing and dancing like a wildman as he
grinned like a moron. I’d never seen dancing make anyone so happy; maybe he
missed his calling in life or something.

I had no idea how long we’d been in the club. I was starting
to lose all sense of time completely. There were no windows; for all I knew it
could be light outside already. I’d never had so much fun on a boys’ night out,
ever. I would remember this night forever; I wouldn’t class it as my last night
of freedom, though, because being married to Rosie was going to be incredible, and
it wasn’t something I was trapped into. I couldn’t wait to marry that hot
little brunette. The drink was making me a little sentimental as I gushed to
Ashton about Rosie and what an awesome friend he was for marrying Anna, because
if he hadn’t gotten with her then I might never had met Anna’s best friend.

George tore himself away from the group of girls he was
dancing with then and staggered over to our table. He smiled lopsidedly at me,
and Ashton immediately excused himself to go and dance with Rick and Russell.

George plopped down into the empty seat next to me. “You
know that I like you, right?” he slurred, gripping my shoulder and leaning in
with a goofy smile plastered on his face.

I nodded in confirmation, trying not to let him push me off
my chair while we were sitting there. “I know that, George,” I replied.

He smiled and pulled me closer, slinging his arm around my
shoulders. “You’re a good man, Nate. I’m glad you want to marry my daughter
because she’s incredible and needs someone like you to love her and look after
her,” he cooed. I laughed as he hiccupped in the middle of his sentence. “She’s
always been my little girl and when I saw her hurt by that asshole whose name
will never leave my lips again, I just didn’t know what to do. I’ve never
wanted to maim anyone so much in my life. When someone hurts your little girl,
it’s like they hurt you. You know what I’m saying here?” he asked, looking at
me seriously.

I frowned and nodded. “I think you’re trying to threaten me
in a nice and polite way,” I answered.

He burst out laughing and patted my cheek. “I’m not
threatening you! I love you! You’re like the son I never wanted,” he joked,
laughing so hard at his own joke that he clutched his side and gasped for
breath.

“George, I just can’t take you seriously in this pimp
outfit,” I stated, laughing as his purple hat fell off and rolled towards the
dance floor.

He grinned happily and pointed towards the dancing crowd. “I’m
dancing again! You coming?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Nah, it just looks like it because of the
way I’m sitting,” I joked.

He looked at me like I had lost the plot then understanding
crossed his face as he burst out laughing, shaking his head. “Looks like… the
way I’m sitting…” he laughed. “You’re such a cocky little shit, you really are.”
He gripped my hand and pulled me to my feet with surprising strength for a man
that could barely stand himself. “Don’t let your soon-to-be father-in-law make
an idiot of himself on his own!” he stated, tugging me towards the dance floor.

I groaned and followed him, dancing and wishing I was back
at the table. Especially when he started doing the ‘Electric Slide’ and the
John Travolta pointing thing. When he busted out the running man, I couldn’t
resist joining in, making him laugh, too, as we started taking it in turns to
try and outdo the other. Ashton came over, as I knew he would, throwing down
his speciality, which always looked like a cross between the robot and a guy
who had just shit his pants. George gave him a ‘what the hell’ look then
flicked his eyes to me, and we both burst out laughing.

“What?” Ashton asked, looking confused as to what we were
laughing at. George shook his head, pulling me into a tight hug.

I flinched.
Oh, God, please don’t tell me that he gets flirty
like his daughter does when he’s drunk!
I patted his back awkwardly. He
pulled back and cupped my face in his hands. “You are a good, good man. I’m
happy to have you in my family. If I have to give my daughter to someone, then
I couldn’t have picked anyone better than you,” he said, his voice breaking
through emotion as he put his forehead against mine, sniffing loudly.

I laughed nervously and flicked my eyes to Ashton for help,
but he was now standing off to one side trying to teach my dad how to do the ‘I’ve
shit myself robot’, too. “Thanks, George. I’m happy to be part of the family,”
I replied, hoping he wasn’t going to burst into tears.

He sniffed again and pulled back, his eyes looked slightly
unfocused as he smiled at me. He bent forward and kissed my forehead before
turning back to my dad and pointing at him. “And, you, Evan Peters! I love you,
too! If you hadn’t made this guy then I wouldn’t be able to call him my son,
too,” he chirped, grabbing my dad into a hug, slapping his back.

My dad flicked his eyes to me as George clung to him. “What
the hell?” he mouthed to me over George’s shoulder. I just laughed and
shrugged. Rather him than me!

‘Moves like Jagger’ by Maroon 5 started, and George laughed,
pulling back from my dad. “I love this song!” he chirped, putting his hands
behind his back and pouting like Mick Jagger as he did some kind of chicken
dance. I winced as my dad grinned and started dancing, too. “That’s not Mick
Jagger!” George cried, shaking his head as Ashton tried to do the leg flick
thing. “That’s more Michael Jackson; it’s like this.” He then demonstrated
exactly why you shouldn’t try to dance like Jagger while wearing tight, purple
pimp pants. They ripped at the ass, exposing his red boxers he was wearing
underneath. We all burst out laughing, and he just carried on as if he hadn’t
even noticed.

When it really went wrong for him was when he started the
stripping. Stripping was never a good idea in the middle of a packed club,
especially while wearing a velvet suit, ripped at the ass, and a chunky gold
necklace that said ‘Daddy Cool’ on it. He gripped his shirt and made a loud
growling sound as he ripped it open in an awesome impression of Hulk Hogan. I
closed my eyes as he started encouraging my dad to do the same thing.

Oh, God, kill me now!
But I couldn’t help but laugh
at the same time. I was marrying into a seriously crazy family. Suddenly, I
heard collective gasps, groans, and gags. “No! That’s gross!” Seth cried. I
snapped my eyes open to see George leaning over with his hands on his knees. A
huge pile of vomit now sat on the middle of the dance floor.

Ashton slapped my shoulder and shook his head. “Your family,
you deal with it,” he said, turning and walking off quickly. I frowned and
wanted to walk away, too, but I guess in situations like this it was now up to
me to deal with it. Ashton got off damn lucky with his father-in-law in that
respect; I really couldn’t imagine President Spencer throwing up on his own
shoes…

I patted George’s back as he threw up again. The crowd
parted and people stared at us as he emptied the alcohol out of his stomach.
Rosie was going to seriously kill me if her dad was still sick at the wedding
tomorrow. Damn it, I was in trouble. But I couldn’t help but laugh as I rubbed
his back while he hurled and heaved. No doubt, this looked awesome to an
outsider: a pimp throwing up on the dance floor with Zorro rubbing his back.
This
is the stuff dreams are made of.

When he finally seemed to be empty, he stood up and looked
at me apologetically while rubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. “I got
sick,” he groaned.

I laughed harder. “No shit, Sherlock,” I replied, shaking my
head at him. “Let’s get you some coffee from the bar,” I suggested, wrapping my
arm around his waist.

He smiled at me gratefully. “You’re awesome,” he croaked.

I winced from the smell of his breath and waved my free hand
near my face, trying to get rid of the smell. “Dude, there is nothing awesome
about your breath!” I whined as he carried on telling me how great I was and
how happy he was that I was marrying his daughter and taking on his grandson. I
pulled a stool up and pushed him down onto it, waving my hand for the barman to
come over, but he was busy serving down the other end. I took the opportunity
to button up George’s shirt for him.

Something patted me on the shoulder. “We need to leave,”
Ashton hissed in my ear.

I frowned. “I was just gonna get Puking Percy here some
coffee,” I countered, turning to face him, keeping one hand on George’s
shoulder to keep him upright.

Ashton shook his head fiercely and nodded over his shoulder.
I looked back and what he was motioning at. There were loads of security
around, one of them guarding the pile of sick, the others fanning out,
obviously looking for the perpetrators. We wouldn’t be that hard to find in our
choice of attire for tonight!

I nodded in agreement. I didn’t want trouble, and it looked
like they were going to kick us out anyway. It was always better to walk out on
your own two feet than be bustled out by security. I slung my arm around George’s
waist, pulling his arm around my shoulders as I lifted him to his feet. “Time
to go,” I muttered.

He frowned. “Are we going to another bar?” he asked,
staggering on his feet. Most of the guys had already left and were probably
waiting outside for us.

My dad met us at the door, laughing as he looked at George. “You’re
a lightweight, York!” he chirped, pushing the purple hat back on my
father-in-law’s head. “Now that your stomach is empty, you can fill it again!”
he added, holding out half of a glass of beer to him.

George laughed, and before I could protest, he knocked the drink
back in one before holding the glass above his head and shouting, “Booya!”

By the time we got downstairs, the sun was already up. The
guys were all joking around in the street, laughing and jumping on each other.
Seth was strutting around with a traffic cone on his head singing ‘Ding dong,
the witch is dead’.

The minibus was still parked where we left it hours before.
George literally passed out as soon as we sat him in the seat. My dad plopped
next to him and grinned. “I guess we’re too old to keep up with you guys,” he
mumbled. Suddenly he laughed wickedly as he turned back to a passed-out George.
“Who’s got a pen?”

I groaned and shook my head. “Don’t draw anywhere that’s
going to show up in the wedding photos tomorrow,” I protested as Brad started
fumbling in the black duffle bags that they’d brought with them. Those things
seemed bottomless; they just kept on producing more and more wicked things from
there as the night went on. Brad made a triumphant “Ta-da!” as he pulled out a
pack of magic markers. My dad grinned and started unbuttoning George’s shirt
with an excited smile on his face.