CHAPTER 45
ZACH
“How are we feeling about strip clubs?”
Zach groaned and slumped across the breakfast bar in the rented Hawaiian villa. This was the problem with Tyler—he hated to spend a night alone. Maya kidded that he was like a dog with separation anxiety—the man had some kind of genetic need for company.
“Strip clubs? I’m feeling that I don’t want to go to one.”
This past Tuesday in Seagrass Point, they’d decided on a cookout, just the four of them—Zach, Kai, Tyler, and Maya. But on the way up the driveway at Zach’s place, Tyler had rounded up the seven groupies waiting outside and invited them in for dinner. Maya hadn’t been happy at all, and Zach had ended up calling cabs at eleven p.m. in a not-so-subtle hint to get the girls to skedaddle. Worse, word had gotten around, and by
