Chapter 17: Tuxedoes
I took a quick shower, dried off, and splashed an ash and sandalwood cologne against my chest. Then, I found my tuxedo, slipped into it, played with my hair, added gel and a lift to my bangs, starred into the bathroom mirror, and confessed, “Dapper and delicious. I’m sure I look better than the grooms.”
Just was not as fortunate with his cleanup and changing. The poor bastard slipped into a white T-shirt, Brooks Brothers tuxedo shirt, and onyx-black pants. When he bent over to reach for his leather belt on the tiny bed we shared from the night before, the material that covered his tight ass had ripped down the center of his crack and a problematic life had punched him once again.
“Sonofabitch!” he barked, reached around his torso with both hands, and grasped his ass
