Always Alchemy: The Ever After Book (Alchemy #6)

24. Glory Days 2.0

24

GLORY DAYS 2.0

ZACH

‘ N o,’ Gen says, looking at Cal with horror. ‘Absolutely not.’ She pats her immaculate hair for emphasis.

The four of us plus Mads are standing in the lobby area of Sorrel Farm’s Main Barn, where tonight’s party has taken place. Cal’s dragged us out here to prepare for our big Dancing in the Dark moment.

‘Come on,’ Cal says in a wheedling voice. ‘You have to! You’ll spoil it otherwise.’

‘I’m game.’ I take the Stars and Stripes bandanna he’s holding out to her and tie it around my head. ‘What do you think?’ I ask Mads. ‘Sexy, huh?’

‘Sexy as sin ,’ she confirms, reaching up to kiss me on the cheek.

‘Fine,’ Gen says in a huffy voice. She grabs a bandanna from the stash in his other hand and ties it on, too. Even I can appreciate that its addition does her beautiful pale pink dress no favours at all. Rafe and Cal follow suit, and we grin at each other. Everyone but me is pretty hammered by now. I’ve been going light on the booze tonight. The older I get, the worse my memory loss gets when I drink. I’d rather keep my wits about me and drink in every fantastic moment of this evening.

‘Looking good, people,’ Cal says. ‘We’ve still got it.’

I glance down at my ridiculously beautiful twenty-six-year-old wife and wink. She certainly still has it. What she wants with an old fart like me, I have no clue, but I’ll take it.

‘Let’s go embarrass our kids,’ I say.

‘Wait here,’ Cal says, holding a finger up. ‘We need to make a grand entrance. I’ll tee the band up.’

We have an incredible Eighties tribute band here tonight called Neon Thunder. They’ve been rocking this place since they came on an hour ago.

Rafe shakes his head as Cal disappears back into the main space. ‘He’s such an old woman. I give him ten years before he’s organising bingo nights.’

‘Aww, he’s a sweetie,’ Mads says fondly as she adjusts my bandanna and fluffs my hair so it’s sticking up, Eighties style. My wife adores Cal, always has. They seem to get each other’s—somewhat childish—sense of humour. ‘It’s cute that he cares.’

‘He definitely cares,’ I mutter. As our event organiser, he’s done the lion’s share of work on pulling together the millions of tiny things that will make this weekend memorable, and I have to admit, he’s done a cracking job. I suppose our Springsteen moment is one of those things.

A moment later, Cal comes crashing through the door. ‘We’re up! Let’s go dazzle them!’

Maddy giggles. Gen purses her lips.

‘Just be glad he didn’t make us learn a dance routine,’ Rafe says, putting his hands to the sides of his head to straighten his bandanna. ‘Let’s go show these guys what we were like in the glory days. Remember Sports Night?’

Ah, Sports Night. Every Wednesday night in the students’ union, the sports teams would celebrate or commiserate their fixtures earlier that day while half-naked girls threw themselves at them on the dance floor. It was everyone’s favourite night of the week. As rugby players, we did very well for ourselves. We’d show up, showered and dressed in the team tie, blue Oxford-weave shirt and navy blazer, and the women would flock.

It was fucking epic, even if I was marginally less of a player than Cal and Rafe. Gen used to do all right for herself too, if I remember rightly—she had a penchant for hockey players.

We hover by the heavy glass doors, waiting. There’s a mirror on the far side of the lobby, and I get a glimpse of our reflection. ‘We look like a load of muppets,’ I say fondly, and Gen catches my eye in the mirror.

‘Abso-fucking-lutely.’

Then Cal’s giving us his signal, and we power through into the main dance space, the iconic opening riffs of Dancing in the Dark exploding around us. There are whoops and hollers from those dancing and those still sitting as we take to the dance floor.

The band is really going for it, and it’s getting everyone in the mood. They’ve even cranked up the smoke machines. There’s one guy with mirrored aviators and long blonde hair Whitesnake would be proud of. He’s playing electric guitar. Positioned right front of him on the floor is a huge fan, tilted upwards so that his hair blows out like he’s in a schmaltzy rock video. I want to be him when I grow up.

As soon as we’re on the dance floor, I drag my beautiful wife into my arms and proceed to twirl her around. She always looks incredible, but tonight she takes my breath away in a red satin minidress that leaves one shoulder bare and sports a giant fabric rose on the other. She’s sexy as hell, and this forty-year-old man will never stop being grateful to her for saving me.

She smiles at me as our bodies smash together post one particularly aggressive twirl. ‘The bandanna is hot, Spreadsheet. Makes you look like a bad boy.’

‘I’ll show you how bad I can be when I tie you up with it later,’ I growl at her. I may not be matching everyone else’s booze consumption, but I’m always drunk on my wife. In answer, she kisses me seductively on the mouth.

‘Leave that until they play Lady in Red later!’ Rafe yells, gyrating beside us in a rather alarming manner. ‘Come and dance!’

Dear God. This magical bandanna—or maybe this magical band—has transformed my best mate from suave man about town to cheesy Eighties workout wannabe.

Mads and I form a circle with the rest of the Alchemy gang. I beckon over Nance and Stella who are watching with extreme discomfort from the young people’s table, but Nance shakes her head vehemently. Stella, meanwhile, is busy capturing every second on her phone, with probable plans to use it as leverage against us in the future. Pip Russell is standing next to her, watching us avidly while Kit is already in the centre of our circle, shaking his hips. I swear he could be Cal’s biological son.

I huff in mock disapproval as Anton nicks Gen’s bandanna right off her head and proceeds to ram it on his own without untying it. It’s too small, and he looks ridiculous, but he’s really going for it, shirt unbuttoned almost all the way and hips rolling. I suppose he could have been a teenager when Springsteen released this. He looks like he’s found his happy place. Gen smooths her hair down with a smug smirk and allows him to gyrate up against her arse. His adult kids are nowhere to be seen—probably getting drunk in a corner somewhere.

And then it happens. It was always going to. Cal gets his shirt off, spinning it in the air a couple of times like a lasso before throwing it at an amused-looking Aida, and throws himself down on the ground to indulge in his favourite party piece: The Worm.

He’s fucking good at it—always has been—but I wouldn’t like to try that on a wooden floor with no shirt on.

Our guests start up a clap, drawing into our circle. ‘Cal! Cal! Cal!’

Disliking the attention Cal’s getting, Rafe dives down beside him, opting wisely to keep his shirt on, and the roars grow louder. Rafe’s always been snake hipped. Belle’s cheering him on with raucous whoops as the wannabe Springsteen on stage continues his most excellent cover and my sexy wife dances around me. With a primal screech of utter delight, Max dives in from fuck knows where and launches himself into an energetic, hip-thrusting worm too. I give Dex and Adam seconds before their FOMO has them getting stuck in.

My mates are insane, but fuck, I love them. Who’d have thought when Cal, Rafe, Gen and I cooked up our hare-brained scheme to open the classiest, most desirable sex club this city had ever seen, that we’d end up like this? Ecstatically happy, with families of all shapes and sizes and structures and friends so dear they may as well be family, too?

There’s definitely something in the water at Alchemy.