Whiskey Dick

by Ryan Ringbloom

  “Men can be fools sometimes. Lots of times.” She nods understandingly. “Is there anything I can get for him?”

  My first impulse is to say no. There is no fucking way I am ordering that arrogant prick a Denver omelet like he requested.

  Enter evil revenge plan.

  “Do you have noodles?” I ask.

  “This is a diner, we have everything.” Ida smiles, scribbling on her pad. “How do you like them? With sauce, butter, or cheese?”

  “Overcooked,” I say, and Ida raises a brow. “I know it sounds weird but we’re from Jersey. It’s kind of a thing there. We have Disco Fries and… Limp Noodles,” I improvise. “So if you could just boil up a big bowl of overcooked, limp noodles that would be great.”

  “Limp noodles. Gotcha.” She winks, chuckling as she walks away.

  I’m a huge bitch. So what? He deserves it.

  Telling me his dick has high standards. Under no circumstances does any man have the right to talk down to me like he just did. I should have asked Ida to spit into the noodles.

  I could kick myself for not just sucking it up and rescheduling a flight. I’m a smart girl. I know the statistics for plane crashes. Making this long drive actually puts me at a higher risk of being involved in an accident. Driving with a stranger quadruples the risk. My stupidity needs to be punished. Jax is that punishment.

  At the end of this all I can do is hope that I get home safe and walk away having learned some important life lessons.

  To get over my fear of flying and to never see Jax Kay again.

  Not the Breakfast of a Champion

  After sliding the bright green shirt into place I have trouble making eye contact with myself in the mirror. I’m a lot of things but one thing I’m not is mean. Until now.

  I don’t know what’s going on. One minute, I like her, I think she’s great and the next, I want to rip her head off. If we were in kindergarten I’d think I was in love with her.

  There’s only one thing to do and that’s apologize. Tell her I’m sorry, fess up to my embarrassment, and find some un-awkward way to let her know that I think she is very attractive. That I really crossed a line when I implied otherwise.

  But since that all sucks, I stall for time before going back to the table and pull out my phone. There’s a text from Carl, one of the other managers at work, to call him when I get a chance and I dial the number.

  “Jax, I need a favor,” he answers. “Any way you can cover Sunday and I’ll cover your Wednesday?”

  “Sure.” That means I’ll be working six days in a row but having the extra day to recoup after this trip will probably be worth it.

  “Thanks, buddy, I owe ya.” He disconnects right away, taking his free Sunday and running.

  That took all of ten seconds. So much for stalling.

  I contemplate calling Remi but I’m sure by now she’s probably figured out that my driving partner “Max” was made up and I don’t feel like dealing with that right now. I grab my wet gray tee from the sink and decide to chuck it rather than carrying it around with me. It was old anyway and the green shirt will be good enough until I get home.

  I take my time walking back to the booth, thinking of what it is I plan on saying. Paisley’s got her back to me, shivering, still soaked from my asinine decision to drive in the rain. She holds her coffee cup with two hands for warmth as she sips. I’m such an ass.

  “Hey.” I slide into the booth across from her. She turns her head away, refusing to look at me. “I owe you a big apology.” Her head doesn’t move, her gaze staying fixed outside the window, watching the rain. “What happened last night was no reflection on you or your looks.” She doesn’t budge. “You are good-looking.” Nothing. “Very pretty. Honestly, you are—”

  “Can you stop?” She finally faces me, making direct eye contact. “I don’t need you to tell me if I’m good-looking or not. Okay? My self-esteem doesn’t hang in the balance of other people’s opinions.” My mouth waters at her confident declaration and I swallow. “For the sake of this trip, I accept your apology. Now let’s just move on.”

  I can’t move on, not yet. I keep my voice low.

  “You have to understand how sensitive of a subject all that is for a guy. Believe me when I tell you nothing like that has ever happened before. I was completely turned on by you last night. Trust me. It’s killing me. And you talking about it just makes it ten times worse. But I shouldn’t have blown up like that. It was a pride thing.”

  She moves a wet strand of hair away from her face. Her hard expression softens. “Yeah. I do get it. This whole situation right from the beginning has been crazy; the bar, the flights, the room, making this trip, and it probably has us both out of sorts. I’m sorry too.”

  “Are we okay now?”

  “Yeah, we’re good.” She gives me a small smile and a comforting warmth runs through me. I’m glad I took the high road.

  “Fresh start?” I ask hopefully.

  “A fresh start.” She extends a hand over the table. “Hi, I’m Paisley Robins.”

  “Don’t I know you from somewhere?” I press a finger to my lips. “High school, you sat behind me in Chem class. My name is Cliff Barstool,” I tease, and her face lights up with a giant smile. We fixed things. Thank God, ’cause that could’ve gotten pretty ugly.

  “Okay, I got your breakfast.” The waitress stands at the edge of our table with a tray. Paisley sits up in her seat, her sweet smile turning to a frown of terror. “I’ve got pancakes for the lady.” She places a plate of delicious-looking pancakes in front of Paisley. “And for you, sir, I’ve got the Jersey Special, Limp Noodles.” A bowl of soggy noodles is set down in front of me. I glance up just in time to see the waitress wink at Paisley before walking away.

  Paisley opens her mouth but nothing comes out. She just stares in horror at the noodles.

  “I guess I deserve this,” I say, pulling in a breath, staring down at the wet soggy mess in front of me. “But still… this is pretty fucked-up.”

  “I’m sorry.” Paisley apologizes but a giggle escapes. “You were just so mean and I was so angry and then the waitress came over and I was wet and cold and… I’m sorry.” More laughter that she can’t contain leaks out. She slides from the booth. “I’m going to go change my shirt. I’ll find Ida and tell her you want a Denver omelet.”

  “And some coffee,” I say to her as she walks toward the ladies’ room. Her shoulders continue to bob with laughter and I can’t help but grin.

  We have seventeen hours and thirty-four minutes left of this trip. Maybe... just maybe it won’t be so bad after all.

  You Are So Busted

  The roof to the Mustang is up and the rain continues to pour, but at least I’m dry.

  The new green shirt was big but I was able to tie a knot at the waist for a better fit and the air dryer in the bathroom was the old kind where you could flip the nozzle. I was able to use it as a hair dryer while raking out some of the tangles with my fingers.

  I’m relieved to have worked through the awkwardness with Jax. That noodle prank could have been a deal breaker. I stifle another giggle, picturing his face when the bowl was placed in front of him. His reaction was priceless. And although I do feel bad, it did even the score for some of the nasty things he said.

  “You can change the channel to anything you want,” he offers, his eyes focused on the road. We’ve been listening to Sternthology ever since leaving the diner. It was an old interview with Lady Gaga that I thoroughly enjoyed.

  A commercial for a website where people can go to cheat on their significant other comes on. Disgusting. I lean over and search for some music. Weezer plays through the speakers but I lower the volume, hoping to strike up a little conversation.

  “Is it one of your close friends getting married? I guess it must be if you went all the way down to Miami for the bachelor party,” I say.

  “An old friend from high school. He met a girl on Spring Break his senior year in college and after graduation
he relocated to Florida to be with her. I have to go back down for the wedding in May.” He grips the steering wheel tightly. “Gotta say I am not looking forward to it. The travel part, not the wedding,” he corrects. “The wedding should be a lot of fun. They’re having it at some fancy beach resort.”

  “Romantic. I love beach weddings. Will you drive or attempt flying again?”

  “Drive. Time wise I know it’s so much easier to fly, and as you know having a job in retail, it’s hard to take off long periods of time. But there’s no way I’m flying. At least for the wedding Remi will be with me and having her along will make things easier.”

  Remi? He has a girlfriend? Well this just got awkward again.

  “Oh, Remi will be there. That’s nice. Does Remi know about me, that we’re driving home together?” Or where you spent last night, scumbag?

  “Not exactly. But she’ll be happy I didn’t have to make the long drive by myself. It was actually a text from her that made me ask you.”

  “Really? One of her texts?” That’s crazy. Maybe they’re one of those couples that uses that cheating website.

  “I’ll tell her about you when I get home. Of course, if she asks I won’t mention last night,” he says, and my head nearly explodes at how casually he says it. “I mean, stuff like that isn’t something you share with your sister.”

  “Your sister?” I exhale. “Remi is your sister?”

  “Twin sister. She already knows too much about my life as it is and I don’t need to share any unnecessary details with her. Although, she would love your noodle prank. That’s her kind of humor. I didn’t mention her before? I thought I did.” He glances over at me. “You didn’t think she was my girlfriend, did you?”

  “Um, no?” Of course I did. I totally did.

  “Okay, I just assumed we were both single. Now I have to ask, do you have a boyfriend?”

  “No. No boyfriend, fiancé, husband.” I cover all bases. “I am 100 percent single.”

  “Kinda scary that we’re both only discussing this now.” He chortles. “But I guess it’s good to know that I don’t need to worry about an angry lover showing up at my job ready to kick the shit out of me for defiling his girl.” He groans. “Or for at least trying to.”

  Oh no, we’re back to that again. Quick, new subject.

  “Have you ever seen the show Cheers?” I pull that out of my ass to take the conversation in a new direction.

  “Uh—no, I’m thirty.” I get the side eye. “How old are you?”

  “I’m thirty-two.” I have to laugh. “But Hulu, or Netflix, one of them has it and it’s such a cute show. My parents used to watch it. It’s binge worthy.”

  “Oh, I see. You’re one of those bingers?”

  “Isn’t everyone?” I quip. Seriously, isn’t everyone?

  “Not me. I’m not much a of a TV guy. I’m more of a reader.”

  He’s a reader and I’ve just admitted to being a television junkie. Ugh. I try to remember the last book I read and can’t think of one. Sadly, it was probably back in college and something that I was forced to read for a class. Quick we need a new-new subject.

  “So, um, what’s your middle name?”

  I’m more of a reader.

  What?

  My sister’s friend Dina contributed to an anthology for charity. I bought the anthology and out of the twenty-three short stories, I only read hers. That was over a year ago. I said it to impress her, which clearly she wasn’t because she changed the subject right away. I do watch TV. I watch a lot of damn TV. Why did I lie?

  “It’s Richard. I’m Jaxon Richard Kay, and my sister is Remi Jennifer Kay. JRK and RJK. My mom thought it was cute to give us matchy initials. Too bad she never realized that giving me a J name, one day my friends would nickname me Jay Kay.”

  “Are you JK-ing me?”

  “I wish I was,” I say.

  “Can I start calling you Jay Kay?” She laughs. I love her laugh. It’s cute and genuine, the kind that rolls up from deep down in the belly.

  “Please don’t. Now it’s your turn. What’s your middle name?”

  “This is my fault for bringing it up.” She groans. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

  “Promise.” I take my hand off the wheel to cross my heart.

  “It’s Lavender.”

  “I would never laugh at that. That’s beautiful,” I say. Paisley groans again. “What’s the matter? You don’t like the name?”

  “Not really. It was my mother’s stage name.” My brows rise, unsure if she’s joking or not. “Yes, my mother was an ‘exotic dancer’ back in the ’80s. Lavender Holiday.” She holds up a hand. “Don’t bother asking because I have no clue what lavender and holiday have to do with each other. Neither does she, for the record.”

  “That’s really cool,” I say. Is that an appropriate response?

  “She thinks it is. If you ever met her, she’d find a way to finagle it into conversation within the first five seconds. ‘Hi, I’m Paisley’s mom, I used to be an exotic dancer.’ You can imagine how fun it was being her kid,” Paisley laments with a sigh, but I can tell that her mother’s colorful past is a story she likes to share as well. “She worked at a place called Fun Bunnies and that’s where she met my dad. He used fives instead of singles. It was all very romantic.” Her laugh is infectious and I chuckle along with her as she continues. “But I guess it really was because they’ve been together for almost forty years.”

  “And what does your father do?” I ask.

  “Oh same as me, he’s a….” she stops. “He works at a drugstore too. But yeah, the one good thing with an ex-stripper mom is that I’ve always been comfortable with my body. She’s always been a great example in confidence.” She switches the subject right back to her mom without skipping a beat and then changes it once more. “So tell me more about Remi. Does she look like you?”

  It’s odd that every time anything job-related comes up she’s quick to change topics. You’d think working in the same field, we’d be exchanging war stories. Maybe it’s the competitor thing and CVS swears all its managers to secrecy. Unless she’s not actually a manager. I only assumed she was in management because of the conference she attended. Stupid, I shouldn’t have assumed. I didn’t mean to embarrass her. Every position is important and everyone’s part of the same team. I guess it’s possible they send all their associates and not just management to conferences.

  But in Miami?

  I’m being weird about the job thing. But I never corrected him when he first said manager and now I don’t want to get caught in another lie because technically I didn’t lie. He said manager, not me.

  “She’s tall, not as tall as me. Her hair is lighter, her eyes are darker. Actually, her hair color varies. With Remi you never know, one day it’s blonde, the next pink, the next brown. She’s into all that hair and makeup stuff.” Jax describes his twin sister and while his pale eyes are fixed on the road, my eyes are fixed on him. His face darkens a bit. “Lately I’ve been a little worried about her. Remi’s still trying to ‘find herself.’ Fine when we were younger, but we’re thirty now. She needs to settle down, find a job.”

  “She doesn’t work?”

  “Her latest thing is getting her real estate license but so far it’s been nothing but talk. My parents are losing patience. She still lives at home and is driving them nuts.”

  “You said you have your own place. Could she live with you?”

  “Why, so she could come drive me nuts? No thanks.” He laughs. “Bachelor life suits me and I don’t need my sister there befriending every girl that walks through the door.”

  “Got a lot of girls walking through the door?” I ask, even though it’s really none of my business. Last night was nothing and this car ride is not a date. Remember that, Paisley.

  “Girls… visit occasionally,” he says with a sexy grin.

  I’m sure they do. And I bet when there’s wind in his sail, he’s fantastic. I nibble on my thumbnail, envisioning
a what-if scenario for last night. I bet it would have melted the panties right off me. Too bad I’ll never know. Typical Paisley luck. I can’t even remember the last time I had really good sex. Probably back when I read that frickin’ book.

  “What about you? Do you live alone? Get many visitors?” The rain finally stops and the sun begins to peek through the clouds.

  “I share an apartment with my friend Karie. And yes, I date.” Not too often and no-one too great, I leave out. “Hey, next rest stop pull over and I’ll do some of the driving.”

  “Sounds good. We can grab gas and I could always use some more coffee.”

  Me too. Coffee is life.

  Up ahead there’s a bright blue sign indicating a rest stop coming up. It’s a good one; the sign has a Starbucks logo and one for Hardee’s.

  “Yes! A Hardee’s. The only time I ever see Hardee’s is when I’m on a road trip. We have the meats,” I quote the commercial that is constantly on.

  “You’re thinking of Arby’s,” he corrects me. “Arby’s has the meats. Not Hardee’s.”

  “Oh, is it?” I shrug. Odd that he knows that. “Still. I’m going to grab something when we’re there.” Or maybe not. Strong coffee, mass-processed beef, and a long road trip are not the best combination.

  Traffic slows down and eventually we come to a complete stop. The exit to the rest area is so close, but a half hour passes and we’re lucky if we’ve moved three feet.

  “I can’t believe we haven’t moved.” Jax bangs his head against his headrest and rakes a hand through his dark hair. His hips rise slightly in his seat as he adjusts himself to a more comfortable position. I follow the movement with my eyes, and a needy twitch in my lower half makes me adjust in my seat as well. I really wish I wasn’t this attracted to him. I can’t even understand why I am. Sure, he’s ridiculously good-looking, but last night was a disaster. Today in the diner was a disaster. And he doesn’t even watch freaking TV.