“It’s Vulcans, you anti-culture caveman, and your fake skin chunk is coming loose. Maybe it’ll drop in your beer. But you’re right, I’m sure the women will be all over you.” Denver looked my way. “So, who the hell are you supposed to be? A king, King?”

I tapped the crown. “Really? You can’t tell?” I bowed. “Prince Charming, at your service.”

Rodeo snorted. “Prince Charming? I’ve met him, dude, and you’re no Prince Charming.”

Denver turned to look at Rodeo. “You’ve met Prince Charming?”

Rodeo grabbed some pretzels from a bowl. “Yep, at Disneyland. Even took a selfie with him and Cinderella.” He grabbed out his phone and started thumbing through his pictures.

“I don’t need to see your selfie with Disney characters.” Denver snorted. “Save it to impress all those conquests you’re planning tonight. I’m sure the women will be all over you with that.”

Rodeo shrugged and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He popped the pretzels in his mouth, grabbed two beers from the table and tossed one to me. “So, King, do you think she’ll show?”

I knew exactly who he was talking about, and damn, if I hadn’t been thinking about her since our unfortunate first meeting. “I doubt it.” Aside from knocking her from her horse, I was sure I’d made a completely buffoonish first impression. Every word that bubbled from my mouth had been stupid. I should have been upset because I was obviously going to lose a bet that would cost me a car, but I was more disappointed in thinking I would never get to know Kensington. There was something about her I couldn’t push from my mind, something that made me think she was nothing like the other rich girls I’d dated. Of course, I’d had the wind knocked out of me just seconds before, so I might have just been missing all the clues.

“Who are we talking about?” Denver asked.

“The girl who is going to help me get my first Corvette.” Rodeo smiled and gulped back some beer.

“Oh, I forgot about your last stupid ass bet. She might come with her boyfriend.” Denver made a point of saying the last word to remind me that I’d really made a ridiculous wager. “I invited Nate Harkin.”

“Dude,” Rodeo said, “you’re not supposed to invite the chick magnets. We want that privilege. We’re the hosts.”

“Speaking of chick magnets,” Denver looked at me. “Did you invite your dad, Cole?”

“Oh, Denver, Denver . . . Denver from Boston, you are an odd one. Why the hell would I want to party with my dad? Would you want your old man to be hanging out with us?”

Denver looked up with that famous expression that let me know something good was coming next. “That’s because your dad’s idea of a good time is four naked women in a champagne filled hot tub. My dad’s idea of a ‘hoppin’’ time is an extra shot of espresso in his mocha latte at the local bowling alley.”

I laughed. “That’s why I keep you around, Denver. That and your handiness with technical shit. But my dad won’t be here. Just like Rodeo pointed out, you don’t invite the guy that all the chicks flock too. And trust me, even with his graying hair and whispers of a pot belly, my dad would have every female in the party circling around him like bees on honey.”

We could barely hear the doorbell over the movie soundtrack. “Our first guests are here.” I grabbed a beer and lifted it. “To a Rocky Horror good time.”

A face peered down through the glass panel on the front door. Denver laughed. “Is that Barrett Mason? Shit, I haven’t seen him in a year. So much for you being the big chick magnet in the room, Rodeo. Oh, but I guess Rett is no longer available.”

“Damn right,” I said and swung open the door. “Dudes! You all came.” I motioned them inside. I looked up at Clutch. “Holy fucking hell, I forgot what a fucking beast you were.” I pointed up to his only piece of costume—a Viking’s helmet. “Perfect disguise, man. Never would have guessed it was you.” I turned to my roommates. “Rodeo, Denver, you already know Rett. This guy filling up the entryway is Rett’s brother, Jimmy, or Clutch as his friends call him, and over here are Nix and Dray.”

“Hey, how’s it going?” Nix was wearing a flannel shirt, jeans and a beanie.

“Let me guess—lumberjack?” I asked.

He smiled. “Uh, tattoo artist lumberjack, if you don’t mind.”

Dray was holding back a grin.

Nix rolled his eyes. “Shit, ask to see his costume before he explodes.”

Even though it was a warm night, Dray had on a black trench coat. It was wrapped shut by a loose belt.

I looked at the guys. “Tell me he’s got clothes on under that thing.”

Rett laughed. He’d pulled on a long cowboy duster and hat, and, as simple as it was, it would no doubt become an instant favorite among all the women, mostly because of the person under the hat. “Told you everyone was going to think you’re a flasher, Dray.”

“Shit,” Dray grunted in irritation, “you fucking people have no imaginations.” He untied the belt and yanked open the coat panels. A rubber alien, just like the famous stomach popping alien from the seventies classic movie, popped out.

I flicked the rubber alien face with my finger. “So much better than seeing you buck naked under that thing.”

I looked back out front. More people and plenty of the skimpy costumes Rodeo had been waiting for began streaming up the driveway. I looked at the guys. “Uh, aren’t you four missing your significant others.” I looked at Rett. “Where’s Fin?”

“Fin and the girls will be here. Eventually.”

“They were pissed that none of us were up for elaborate costume design,” Clutch added. “Taylor was sewing them all costumes.” He tapped his helmet. “We decided to do our own thing, and they’re doing theirs.”

Rett lifted the end of my cape. “Not sure who the hell you’re supposed to be, but I guess you aren’t planning to score tonight.”

“Fuck you. I can score wearing pajamas with little pink bunnies and a butt flap.” Rett and I had always been competitive when it came to women, but when he met my sister, Finley, he’d met his match. My brother, Jude, and I had given him a hard time in the beginning. Until we’d both realized we were just being overprotective, something we’d never gotten past as big brothers, especially because Finley had anxiety issues. She had always been vulnerable, and Jude and I had always watched over her when Dad was away, which was most of the time. Now Rett helped Finley at her rescue barn. Her relationship with Rett and spending her days helping rescued farm animals had saved her from the panic disorder that had kept her housebound for several years.

Dray tucked his alien back into his coat and looked around. “Two things, King.” He held up his fist. His knuckles, as usual, were swollen and bruised. He even had a nasty cut on one of them. Dray was an MMA fighter and a damn good one. He was smaller than his friends but far more lethal. He popped up one finger. It was twisted at an odd angle as if he’d broken it more than once. “Taco bar.” He popped up a second finger. “Foam pit.” He lowered his hand. “Not necessarily in that order.”

Denver and Rodeo had the door, so I motioned Dray and the others to follow me to the taco bar. The kitchen window looked out over the side yard where the ramp and foam pit were set up. I opened the blinds. “There’s the foam pit. Didn’t know you’d be interested in any playpen that wasn’t shaped like an octagon. Were you thinking of trying motorcycle or BMX bike?”

Nix picked up a plate. “I think he should try an airplane drop.”

Dray’s eyes widened. “Shit, I never thought of that. King, do you know someone around here with a plane?”

“’Fraid not, but if we all get drunk and bored enough later, I’ll pull out the BMX bikes.”

Clutch shoved a taco into his mouth in one bite. Once he was in front of food, he was in his own world.

Nix shook his head. “Remember, Clutch, there will be other people at this party wanting tacos.”