Ghosts (A Christian Yelich Story)

Chapter One Hundred Ten: A Good Idea

My babies are growing up.

***

When I walked into the apartment, Annie was in the kitchen making herself lunch. "Hey," she said sweetly. "You look awful . . . I'm sorry if any of these smells make you feel sick."

I smiled at her and threw my keys, phone, and wallet on the counter top. "I don't want to do that again," I proclaimed. My stomach felt sick. I knew I had to be honest with her, but it was hard . . . Because I didn't know what the truth actually was. Braun wasn't answering my frantic calls or texts. Shaw was probably still asleep, as that was his favorite thing to do on off days.

"What? Go out?" she asked, her expression a bit confused. "You need to have fun sometimes."

I sighed and rubbed my forehead, my head pounding. "Go out without you."

She laughed. "Did you do something naughty that you regret?"

"Braun and Shaw took me to a strip club," I revealed, terrified she'd throw the knife she was using to dice tomatoes at me.

Instead of murder, she just laughed again. "That's dumb, but fine."

"Wait, what?" I asked. Why wasn't she upset? Where was her rage? In my limited relationship experience, women hated this kind of stuff. Rightfully so . . .

"I mean, strip clubs make me feel sad and uncomfortable, and I'd definitely prefer that you don't go to them, but it's okay. You were with friends, and, based on the guilty look on your face, I have a feeling it really wasn't your idea."

I snorted. "Definitely not, but, Annie, there's more to this, and I don't know exactly how much more to this there is. I don't remember anything after a certain point, and I haven't gotten ahold of Braun or Shaw to help me fill in the blanks."

She stopped dicing vegetables and looked at me. "You shouldn't get blackout drunk. You know that's super bad for you." Her tone was stern now, but it didn't sound angry.

I smiled. "That's what you're worried about?"

"Yes, you're already scattered brained. Let's not make it worse." Her lips turned up at the corners a little, and I could tell she was struggling to remain serious.

"There were these strippers."

"You were at a strip club. That's going to happen."

"Braun put me in a private room with them . . ."

"Please tell me you didn't actually sleep with a stripper . . . or multiple strippers? Because, come on, why?"

"The truth is, I have no idea what happened. One started to dance on me and kissed my mouth, and the last thing I remember is trying not to move my hands at all or show any hint of interest. But I was drunk. And I didn't have a lot of autonomy. And . . ."

She rolled her eyes. "Christian, you need to figure out what happened, and it would be great if you could skip the strip clubs all together. I know you're sexually deprived right now, but that's going to happen sometimes."

Once again, why wasn't she pissed? Why did she have to be beautiful, sweet, smart, and rational?

My phone ringing disrupted my thoughts. "It's Braun," I muttered before grabbing the phone off the counter. I put it on speaker, so Annie could hear the conversation. It seemed like the right thing to do.

"Hey asshole," I answered.

"Yo, bro, thanks for trying to punch me in the face yesterday."

"What are you talking about?" I gave Annie a look to signal to her that I didn't remember what he was referencing.

"You raged out of that room and tried to punch me in the face. I was just trying to have some fun with you, and you kept rambling on about how I tried to get you to cheat on your girl. I just thought some lap dances might help you relax a little."

At this point, Annie was on the floor laughing. "Mature," I mouthed to her with a smile.

"Dude, I can't remember a thing from last night."

"Well, you were in that room for all of three minutes before you stomped out. That brunette stripper was pissed . . ."

"Well, thanks for filling me in. Bye." I shut off the phone and looked back at Annie who was still laughing really hard.

"Look at you, being a good fiancé and not doing anything awful unlike your terrible friend, Ryan Braun," Annie said, her laughter subsiding only slightly.

"Do you have any idea how terrified I was that I ruined our relationship forever? I'm never drinking again."

She stood up and wrapped her arms around my neck. "Thanks for being the best, even while in a drunken stupor. I love you."

"I love you too," I whispered – right before she kissed me. "No more strippers," I informed her as we broke apart.

"Probably a good idea," she confirmed.