What Happens in Atlantic City Stays in Atlantic City

AIMEE: “I beg you!” I pleaded to Brian’s best man, Mike, last week when we all went out to dinner. “Think of sweet little me when you’re picking up the phone to order the strippers!” And then I turned to a celebrity cautionary tale as a last resort: “Do I have to remind you what happened to Mario Lopez and Ali Landry? They called off the wedding because of the bachelor party! I’m just sayin’!”

“Don’t worry,” he finally said, sensing my desperation. “In our old age we’ve gotten boring. We got the stripper stuff out of our system back in college.” Ah, reassuring. At the very least I’m hoping that what happens in Atlantic City stays in Atlantic City.

Now Brian’s off on his bachelor party weekend and I’m taking advantage of the alone time to catch up on wedding tasks. The phone rings in my apartment. It’s almost midnight.

“Bri??” a male voice asks yelling over a noisy background.

“Um, no this is Aimee, who’s this?”

“Hi Aimee! It’s Sid,” Brian’s college buddy says, caught off guard. “I thought I was calling Brian’s cell.” Now he changes the subject, his tone of voice chipper and upbeat. “How’re ya doing? Can’t wait for the wedding in two weeks.” What’s going on here? Something fishy.

“I thought Brian was with you…”

“He is, we just all got separated and we’re trying to find each other, nothing to worry about here.”

Mysterious, no? “It sounds like you guys are having a little too much fun!”

“Very low-key here,” he promises. I’m listening carefully to see if I pick up on any guilt or deceit. “We just had a nice dinner and now we’re going to hit the casinos.”

Brian returns the next day with tales to tell of gambling and hanging out with the guys. “It was a fun, very tame weekend. You’ve seen too many movies. Were you really worried?” he asks, laughing.

Who, me? Nah…