A Is for Alpha Male

by Laurel Curtis

  You can’t. That’s how.

  “Hey Sis. It’s about fucking time you called your one and only brother,” Hunter’s deep voice announced over the line.

  Keen to keep the conversation in the vain of verbal sparring rather than disappointment, I went right back at him with my own dose of attitude. “Well, Jesus. I guess I have a sister now, huh? Your fragile emotions taking it personally that I didn’t call you before now? When do you start your period? Tomorrow? Maybe we can get our cycles to sync up when I get home.”

  Raucous laughter filled my ear, and I couldn’t stop the smile from transforming my face.

  “I love you too, Sis.”

  My face softened and my walls lowered. Those were words I couldn’t joke about and took all too seriously. “Bottom of my heart, Hunter. And you know that’s the damn truth. I promise I meant no offense when I didn’t call,” I responded in a much softer voice.

  “I know. Just wanted to hear your voice. Have fun, and look out for Mom. Don’t let her get too Cougar-y, and try to reset her compass so it points somewhere other than asshole.”

  “I feel you, my man. Though I’m thinking just a little Cougar action may be a good thing.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Just make sure he’s potty trained.”

  “Ro-ger.”

  Disconnect.

  I pulled my phone away from my ear and looked, just to make sure he was actually gone, before slipping it into my back pocket.

  That was Hunter. When he was done talking, he just stopped. No warning, just dead air. Once we got old enough that we lived apart and actually called each other, it took me a good couple of months of phone conversations to stop talking to myself after he’d already hung up.

  Continuing down the hall to the vending area, I took my time and walked at a languid pace. This was, after all, vacation.

  Opening the door with my free hand, I walked into the little room and could hear the hum of the junk food and candy machines getting juiced with electricity. Stopping at the monstrosity of an ice machine, I picked up the bucket, re-situated the little plastic baggy liner, held it in place with both hands, and then realized that I needed a hand to push the button. It wasn’t one of the ones where you can just put pressure on the lever with the bucket; it was the one with a separate button.

  Figuring I would just have to make do holding the baggy with one hand, I released the bucket with the other and pushed the button.

  And then almost peed myself when it started making noise.

  Jesus, it was loud, and not just with the sounds of the ice making its way into the bucket, but with a sickly moan that could only suggest that this particular machine was on its last life.

  While cats have nine lives, ice machines only have five. I don’t know that that’s scientific fact, but it’s close.

  Grabbing my bucket and putting some distance between me and the monster, I opened the door, made short work of the hall, and banged the door with my foot so that Allison would open it for me.

  I patiently waited for a couple of seconds, the heavy drab door unmoving under my gaze.

  When a big, extremely overweight, bald man in nothing more than a white bath robe opened the door and gave me a salacious smile, I felt my eyes go round with surprise, muttered a quick, “Oopsie,” and moved down the hall another two doors, this time actually paying attention to the numbers.

  I didn’t even have to kick it this time, as my mom had propped it open on the little metal door stopper thing, but I did peek my head in slowly—just to make sure.

  When I walked in, Allison looked up from her spot on the bed and took me in.

  I wasn’t sure if I looked harried or normal, but I seemed to check out okay, because she didn’t shrink back in terror.

  “You know leaving your door propped open like that as a woman, traveling alone, or with another woman as the case may be, is about the very last thing a self-defense instructor would recommend,” I preached.

  “Yeah, well, I didn’t expect you to be out there for eight hundred years.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s, at the very least, a slight exaggeration, Allison. I was gone seven hundred years, max. Plus, I almost died at the hands of an ice machine, and a very large, very ugly robe-wearing gentleman tried to have his way with me.”

  “Okay, Haley, that’s pretty disturbing, so I’m going to need you to dial back the drama long enough to tell me what actually happened.”

  What? That was nowhere near as much fun. Not to mention, I was pretty sure she was the one who had started with the drama. Miss “you were gone eight hundred years”.

  Rolling my eyes, I huffed and then told her how it actually went, stating, “The ice machine was loud, and I accidentally knocked on big, ugly guy’s door.”

  Allison’s head seemed to take on a life of its own, nodding slowly at the same time that she pulled her lips in her mouth. Her whole body said quite clearly that I was unbelievable and that she was once again questioning my maternity.

  Not giving her anymore time to stew on that, I moved on quickly to my next slightly unhinged topic.

  “I also called Hunter, so you can get off my back about that.”

  “I wasn’t aware that I was on your back about that, Haley,” she responded.

  She wasn’t. I was just touchy.

  “Geez, drop it already,” I whined.

  What? I recognized that I was touchy, but I didn’t suddenly become a different person.

  “I really hope this evil version of you only makes very brief appearances on this trip.”

  “I know, I’m just hungry,” I said in an attempt to explain my actions.

  “Well, then I guess it’s good that room service is on its way,” she informed me, as ever knowing my needs before I even knew them.

  I launched myself at her full body, wrapping my arms around her tight and slamming her body into the bed, all the while squeeing, “I love you, mommy!”

  Allison burst out laughing, and then tried to talk through her hysteria. “You know, life without you would be boring.” She stroked my hair a few times and then added, “It might be nice.”

  I pulled back, scoffed, and informed her, “No way. You love me.”

  A look of peace encompassed her face and her voice was like velvet when she murmured, “That I do, baby girl. That I do.”

  “No way am I going to a beach bar,” I told Allison as we laid on the beach, soaking up some rays.

  The rest of the night before was laid back and fun, my mood turning significantly less snarky once room service arrived. We watched a few movies, Rom Coms of course, and then fell asleep on opposite sides of our king sized bed.

  Even at our age we had no trouble sleeping in bed together, turned toward one another and gabbing until one or both of us fell asleep. It was the fucking best, and I planned to do it until we were both shriveled, little, old women.

  Therefore, it didn’t make sense to get a room with double beds. If we happened to find male companionship we would need another room anyway, as per the not-being-able-to-hear-you-moan rule.

  We had gotten up pretty early this morning, had breakfast in a little street café, and then walked the shops looking for a salon that would be able to do my hair on extremely short notice.

  I was nervous about getting it done at some random place, but I was pretty adventurous in the color department, going lighter or darker or adding highlights with the frequency that some other women would change their outfit.

  Granted, they’d be pretty dirty women because I absolutely didn’t color it more than every four or five weeks, but you catch my drift.

  Luckily, success had been found, and a fabulous black-haired woman named Alexandra had trimmed me up and given me a few sun inspired highlights without incident.

  After that we hadn’t wasted time changing into our bikinis and taking up residence on the beach where we were now.

  “What’s wrong with a beach bar, Haley? Look at all these guys. They’re hot,” she said gesturing inconspi
cuously at all of the shirtless hotties in front of us.

  “Yeah, you’re right. They are hot,” I said checking them out and lingering on their bodies with earnest. “But I can almost guarantee they’re also as dumb as rocks.”

  My mom scoffed and said, “That is such a discriminatory statement, Haley! How do you know these guys fit the stereotype?”

  Ah, Allison’s good nature was making an appearance. I decided to defect to her emotions this time. “Alright, you’re right. But I’m not going to a beach bar the first night. We’ll drive inland a few miles, find some kind of small town bar, and hit that tonight. Depending on how it is, we can go to a beach bar tomorrow night.”

  Where they would no doubt be doing body shots and smoking weed in the bathroom. Both fine and dandy but activities meant for a few years ago.

  “Okay, fine. But that means one of us will have to be sober enough to drive home.”

  Laughing at the absurd fun of that statement, I comforted, “Don’t you worry about that, Mom. I’ll be your DD tonight. You can get as sloshed as you want.”

  Allison rolled her eyes and then pointed them back at her kindle, effectively blocking my smart ass out.

  Changing the subject, I asked, “Which book are you reading?”

  Allison barely looked up, and her face held what I assumed was anger about being interrupted.

  “At Peace.”

  I understood. I got the whole don’t talk to me while my kindle is out and open rule, but I continued to talk to her anyway. Mostly because what she said had struck a match inside me. Pulled a trigger if you will. Ripped out the pin of the grenade.

  “Let me get this straight. You made fun of me for talking about finding my own Joe Callahan, but now you’re engaged in a re-read of the very same story.”

  “Yeah, he’s very lovable. I wasn’t insulting him, I was just making note of how that much emotional damage in real life might not transfer quite the same way. And when you mentioned it the other day, you got me thinking about him.”

  Well, damn. There really wasn’t anything I could say to that. At Peace was one of my very favorite KA books, and what she said was damn true. Joe was lovable and damaged.

  Therefore, doing something I very rarely did, I kept my mouth shut.

  And then I took out my kindle and opened it to the very same book.

  AS WE WALKED into the rustic, slightly country little bar named “The Cabin”, I couldn’t help but feel reminiscent.

  That is, if you can be reminiscent of a place you’ve only visited fictionally, through the eyes of a character.

  As someone who very nearly became the character who narrated the story, I absolutely believed you could. And by those standards, I was also starting to become a pretty big slut.

  “I feel like I should be calling ‘Here, Tatum Jackson’ and then making all sorts of kissy noises like I’m calling a dog walking into a place like this.”

  It wasn’t a biker bar, but it had that same feel. Rustic and barebones, and filled to the hilt with all of its regulars. I could only hope they would be welcoming of us as outsiders.

  “I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that,” Allison stated blandly.

  Yeah, I didn’t think so either. If only it were that easy.

  Careful not to touch anyone or look at anyone too closely, we made our way through the crowd. Attention wasn’t something we wanted...yet. We needed time to have a drink and mentally prepare.

  We both took up spots at the bar, parking our butts on the empty stools we found. Visually, we were ready, looking casual but sexy and ready for anything.

  At least, that’s what I was telling myself.

  I had on some denim cutoffs with my favorite cowgirl boots, and a figure-hugging lavender tank top that boasted a scoop neck. My mom had on one of her favorite pairs of medium wash jeans and a royal blue tank of the deep v-neck variety. We both had on our standard jewelry—chunky watches, necklaces that hung long, and earrings in every available hole in our ears. What set me apart was the lavender ponytail holder that took up permanent residence on my wrist, a just-in-case so that I could always pull my long, sepia-colored hair up off of my neck.

  As a person prone to heat stroke, being able to get my hair off my neck and air to a much needed area was rule numero uno.

  It had only taken us twenty or so minutes to find this place and get here, but Allison was fidgety. I suspected this was because she really was more conservative than me, so I figured going through our list of qualities would be the perfect way to distract her. “Okay, Mom. Let’s go through the list one more time. We need to be on our game, so the list needs to be second nature.”

  “Good idea,” she agreed easily, some color coming back into her faintly pale cheeks.

  Without preamble, I started into the list knowing she would be ready for the volleying back and forth. Sometimes it seemed like we operated out of one brain, so it was no surprise when she was on the same page.

  “Alpha male,” I declared proudly.

  The lights of the bar flashed in her eyes, and I thought for probably the hundredth time of the day that my mom was a goddamn knock out. I could only hope to look that good at her age.

  “Badass,” she added.

  Smiling, I continued, “Cool name.”

  “Dangerous,” she supplied, and I could tell she was right on the verge of losing the battle with her hilarity.

  And just like that, we were engrossed in our task, paying no attention to the people and goings on around us.

  In the span of no more than thirty seconds we ran through the list, going back and forth and barely taking the time to breathe.

  “Experienced.”

  “Funny.”

  “Gorgeous.”

  “Hard body!”

  “Intelligent.”

  “Junk,” she whispered, lowering her voice with embarrassment.

  “Kissing expert,” I added through my smile.

  “Loving.”

  “Manly with a motorcycle!” I said with excitement.

  “Nickname giver.”

  “One woman man.”

  “Protective.”

  “Quiet until there’s something good to say.”

  We had been sticking to just the list, but she got bold and added, “That’s right, let us do the talking!”

  I shook my head, but went ahead and handled the next letter for her. “Romantic.”

  “Sexy.”

  “Tattooed.”

  “Understands the quirkiness that is us.”

  “Virile. Oh, yeah. Virile for sure.”

  My mom scrunched her nose at my enthusiasm, but kept going, “Wonders where we’ve been all of his lonely life.”

  “X-rated skills and young at heart.”

  “Zealous about us,” Allison finally finished.

  “Excellent. Good thing we remember he needs to be zealous. Wouldn’t want to forget that,” I teased.

  “Hey, Z was a hard letter,” my mom defended.

  I nodded my agreement and said, “Yeah, I know. We wouldn’t want him to be a zebra. Or maybe have a zebra striped tattoo on his penis or something. That would be really bad.”

  My mom just gave me the look. You know the one. It conveys, “Seriously?” without having to speak the words. Ignoring her, I kept on talking. “Now that we’ve refreshed our memories, let’s loosen up a little bit,” I declared.

  “What do you want to do? Stretch? I think I’m confused. Are we working out or trying to pick up men?”

  “Well, first of all, to answer your question...neither. We’re here to have a good time. That is always the number one goal of Allison and Haley’s Great Adventure. Got me?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I “got” you. What are you turning into an Alpha male yourself?”

  “I don’t appreciate the attitude, Allison,” I added with a huff. “If guys are interested, that’s just a bonus. I am woman. I am strong. Or in this case, we are women. Though, it really doesn’t convey the same emotion in the plur
al.”

  Allison’s entire body was stagnant, the picture of stillness. Except her right eyebrow arched and climbed to an unbelievable height on her forehead. I had always been impressed with her talent. I couldn’t get one eyebrow to make the journey without the other.

  “Alright, alright. I got off target again. How do you say so much with that one little eyebrow, Woman?”

  Once again met with silence, I finally got to the point. “As far as loosening up, I meant alcohol.....Shot time!”

  Two shots of Fireball and five drunken, slovenly men later, I found myself watching the back of man number six disappear as he headed for the bathrooms.

  He was tall and handsome, made eye contact, and was at least showing some interest in my personality in addition to my body.

  Okay, so his name wasn’t cool, but that wasn’t really a big deal. Tom seemed like a genuinely nice guy. And being realistic, concentration on a spot anywhere above my nipples counted for major points these days.

  And Allison was over on the other side of the bar, still in my line of sight mind you, chatting up her very own contingent of admirers.

  As I thought it over and decided to give it a go, a low, sexy voice filled my ear from behind me.

  “Tsk, tsk. Only one night in and you’re already lowering your standards and straying from the list? I expected more backbone from you.”

  That got under my skin, and accordingly, I bristled, “How do you know we’ve only been at this for a night?” while turning around to face the holder of the baritone voice behind me.

  A smile lit his face and it completely transformed him. Twin dimples popped out on both sides of his face, just barely managing to play peek-a-boo under a couple days of scruff. His hair was long enough to curl around his neck, was chocolate brown in color, and held natural highlights that a woman would pay good money for. He, however, was hiding most of it under a backward, black, fitted baseball cap.