I walk inside the honeymoon suite and find myself face-to-face with a male stripper. He’s young, overly tan, and is wearing a black thong and nothing else.
He’s holding Kenji over his head.
“Best wedding present ever!” Kenji screams, throwing his arms in the air like he’s flying . . . which he sort of is because Tan Stripper Boy has started to speed walk around the room.
Grace, Kat, and three girls in black shirts and trousers, who I assume are the hair and makeup team, are across the suite. Four director’s chairs are set up in front of the open balcony doors, and in them sit Kat and Grace in white robes, sipping champagne, while the other girls fuss around with hot rollers and makeup kits.
When she sees me, Grace shouts, “Because she didn’t get a stripper for her birthday, right?” and
