Free Revelry (Taint #1) by Carmen Jenner

receipt.
    “Is that Ali?” Zed asks from the background.
    Cooper must cover the phone with his hands because the sound is muffled when he says, “Yes, it’s Ali. Who the fuck else would I be talking to?”
    “Tell her to get me like three boxes of fortune cookies. Oh and Dim Sim.”
    Cooper sighs. “Did you get that?”
    “Yeah, I got it.”
    “We need a Sweet and Sour Pork, three orders of Special Fried Rice, and get whatever you want.”
    “Sure, because apparently the list you’ve given me isn’t quite big enough to feed an entire army, but it’ll do four boys in a band.”
    “We’re gonna be here ’til late, so you may as well hang out and have a few drinks with us.”
    “Yeah, okay,” I say, shoving the pen behind my ear and tucking the order into the glove box so I don’t lose it.
    “Oh and, Ali,” Coop says, before I can hang up. “I booked your flight.”
    “You what?” I ask, incredulous.
    “See you in half an hour.”
    “Cooper.” He hangs up the phone and I shout into the receiver. “Motherfucker!” I cringe and smile apologetically when the soccer mums all turn to glare at me.

S ix hours later, I’m slightly tipsy on account of Zed and I doing shots all afternoon. Okay, so maybe tipsy is an understatement. I’m practically paralytic, and I’m whisked into a cab and headed for Zed’s home with the rest of the boys, Leif included. Though she scares me—more often than not—I kind of wish Deb was around. Most of the time they treat me like one of the boys, which I’m more than happy with, but all this testosterone, tattooed muscle and booze makes me think dangerous thoughts. Very, very dangerous thoughts, especially where Cooper is concerned.
    I follow Zed into his Darlinghurst loft. It’s huge. The ultimate bachelor pad, decked out with a kitchen, matte black appliances, neon signs and a stripper pole in the middle of the lounge room. Deep red couches are arranged in a U shape around the pole, which sits on a glossy black podium lined with little red lights.
    “You have a stripper pole?” I ask, staring at the shiny gold post in the centre of the room. It’s bolted to the ceiling, and it glints like something forbidden in the podium lights.
    “Yup,” Zed says, as he hands me another drink. I don’t even look at what it is before I’ve downed it in one go. I’m sort of numb, so the burn just kind of permeates my chest with warm and fuzzy feelings.
    “In your lounge room?” I ask.
    “Yup.”
    “Do you know any strippers?”
    He sits down on the podium, sipping his beer. “No, it’s for me.”
    I blink in surprise. “I’m sorry, what?”
    “It’s how I work out. You wanna see?”
    “Oh god, please no,” Levi says. “Every time we come here I leave with the vision of you mounting your giant gold pole seared into my retinas.”
    “Pole dancing is one of the only sports that incorporates a head to toe work out.”
    “Yeah, which head?” Leif says, licking the flimsy paper of the joint he’s just rolled and then lighting it up.
    “You know, Zed, you could invite any one of our groupies back here to use this thing. You wouldn’t even need to throw money at them, and yet you use it all wrong. You’re using it wrong, man.” Levi accepts the spliff that Leif offers and brings it to his lips, sucking in a deep breath. I watch on, mesmerised at the way the paper burns. “It’s like somewhere along the way you lost your cock and grew a vagina.”
    “I don’t know.” Zed shrugs. “I get plenty of pussy out of it.”
    “How?” Ash asks.
    “Pole dancing classes,” Zed says, as if it’s self-explanatory. The room erupts with laughter, but Zed just grins. “Don’t laugh. I’ve been going to that class every week for a year and I haven’t once come home alone.”
    “Say what?” Levi says.
    “I’m telling you, man, it’s the ultimate place to pick up bendy chicks.”
    “Zed, I wanna see your pole,” I remark, and I may be just a little too drunk to