A Is for Alpha Male

by Laurel Curtis

  Her response was unexpected, and it came in the form of raucous laughter. Immediately, I froze. In fact, I was so frozen, it was like I was motherfucking ice.

  Moving ever so slowly, peering over the edge of the so called cliff, I could see that she wasn’t actually in any danger, but was standing on a large second tier instead, her knees slightly bent to aid in the illusion.

  What the fuck?!

  My mom, the woman who brought me into the world, had just played one of the most twisted jokes I had ever witnessed, in my twenty-seven year long life, on me.

  She straightened her legs from her semi-squat, pushed up with her arms, and swung her legs back up to the main level with almost comedic ease.

  Backing away with my hand to my chest, I had to give myself a minute to slow my breathing and bring my heart back to a normal, healthy cadence.

  “No offense,” I stated, because if you were going to insult your mom, you had to at least add on some sort of conciliatory caveat, and then continued, “But when did you turn into such a bitch?” The cackle of her laughter echoed in the open space. “You about gave me a heart attack! Can you live with something like that on your conscience?”

  Judging by the look on her face, she wasn’t sorry at all. If anything, she looked smug.

  “Just think of it as me taking a little bit of well-earned revenge,” she countered.

  “Revenge?! Revenge for what? I’m a fucking angel!” I protested loudly.

  People started to stare.

  Okay, people continued to stare. Their eyes had been locked on us since my swan dive.

  Starting out with what would be her obvious beef, she stated, “We’ll pretend that you didn’t do something two fricking nights ago that you deserve revenge for. Instead, we’ll focus on the past.”

  “Remember when you were sixteen and stayed out all night with Rich Brunson?” she asked rhetorically, raising her bent arms out to the side.

  Uh oh. I didn’t like where this was going.

  “Well, I was convinced you were going to come home pregnant. Now that is real fear,” she stated emphatically, her dainty pointer finger wielding a dangerous amount of power right in my face.

  “No way, Rich Brunson didn’t even get any under the shirt action,” I told her, shoving her finger to the side in order to get it out of my vicinity.

  “Huh.” She took a step back, crossing her arms over her chest, and her eyebrows rose with her surprise.

  Shit, she really thought I let Rich Brunson go all the way?

  “I may have been wild, but I wasn’t stupid. I didn’t lose my virginity until I was twenty-one, thank you very much.”

  “Seriously?” she asked dramatically, moving well passed surprised and making her new home at shocked.

  How had we not talked about when I lost my virginity before? I would have thought we would have. We talked about everything.

  “Jesus, how big of a slut do you think I am?” I yelled, and then took a moment to survey the scene around us.

  Yep, people were staring in a major way now. Gawking, really. Smart phones were out and up. I was pretty sure this was going to end up on YouTube.

  Oh well, we were too far into it now. Besides, Allie girl was still oblivious to the audience and telling her about it would be a good way to get her back later.

  “At least as big as I am! I lost my virginity at eighteen,” she informed me.

  “With Dad?” I asked, unable to completely keep the longing out of my voice.

  “Yeah,” she answered, a small sad smile gracing her face as she tilted her head slightly to the side.

  “Aw, that’s kinda sweet,” I stated, my voice completely devoid of its previously prickly edge.

  I reached out and caressed her arm with my thumb when I saw her emotions and memories start to take over.

  “It was,” she confirmed, nodding, her eyes sporting a new, wet sheen.

  “Come on,” I said, changing the subject. “Let’s go hang off of the edge and take a picture to prank text Danny with.”

  I knew her upset wasn’t all bad, the memory of my dad a truly bittersweet topic, but I didn’t ever like to see her tears. So if there was something to make them stop, I would always do it.

  After texting Danny the picture of Allison and I hanging precariously over the edge, I got a return phone call right away.

  Danny and I still hadn’t talked, though we had texted and had several brief phone conversations since yesterday. I knew we would get into it eventually as neither of us were the kind of people to hide from reality forever, and for the time being, I was happy to just be talking to him.

  Now, in the immediate, I was taking great pleasure in trying to prank him, knowing he was prone to overprotective reactions where I was concerned.

  I figured he would be worried, or slightly outraged, or maybe a little of both.

  Instead, he practically made my eardrums bleed with the volume of his vibrant, downright rowdy laughter.

  What was it with people reacting with the antithesis of what I expected today?

  “What the hell?!” I shouted at Danny.

  “Babe, I knew it wasn’t real,” he explained.

  “That picture looked authentic! It looked like we were fighting for our damn lives!” I protested.

  “Hales, no way would you have been taking pictures and sending them to me had your life actually been in mortal danger,” he explained wisely.

  Damn. That was a huge oversight on my part. Obviously, stark terror could only be inflicted with this prank in person.

  I was about to concede to his point when he added, “Plus, I saw the video of you and Allison on YouTube. Classic.”

  Hanging my head in shame, I closed my eyes and let it sink in that our tirade had landed itself on the internet just as I’d expected it would. It just happened really effing fast.

  “By the way,” he said, still talking.

  “What?” I queried a little snappishly, preparing myself for more things I didn’t want to hear. Perhaps a score for my swan dive. Or maybe a commentary on the loss of my virginity. The possibilities were endless.

  “You look really beautiful.”

  Oh. Well.

  Man.

  I never expected the compliments from him, but he always gave them, frequently and freely.

  Murmuring quietly, I said the only thing I could. “Thanks, Danny.”

  We always talked about me, I realized with startling clarity, so I decided to steer the conversation to him for a change. “What are you up to, Dan-o?” I asked, adding, “Besides pining away for my company of course,” before he could answer.

  His chuckle was low, rough, and delicious as he answered, “Just getting ready to go to work.”

  “What time is it there?” I asked, always confused by time zones.

  “I’m two hours ahead of you, baby doll.”

  “Huh. I would have thought only one,” I mused aloud.

  “It would be, but the Grand Canyon doesn’t recognize Daylight-Saving time,” he explained like some kind of time zone genius.

  “Crap. Whatever. You’re confusing me, so I’ll just take your word that you’re two hours ahead.”

  “Good idea,” he replied, his voice betraying his smile.

  “How did you occupy your morning?” I inquired further.

  “Besides watching you on YouTube?” he teased before finishing, “Reading, of course.”

  “Of course,” I muttered under my breath, trying not to be annoyed that he hadn’t spent the time talking to me about things we so obviously needed to talk about.

  I had to cut him some slack though. He knew I was in the car with Allison and wouldn’t want to talk about such an important subject with her less than two feet away.

  “I definitely see why you like these books so much,” he said casually.

  But the feeling I got was anything but casual. It felt really good to be accepted and understood.

  “The sex is good, and the dialogue is damn funny,” he
explained, and I couldn’t help but agree with him.

  “Agreed.” There were more reasons why I liked them, but he was a man. A very rugged, manly man. Just having him say he liked them at all was a victory.

  “I also went out on the four-wheeler for a little while, just to clear my head,” he told me, and I could hear a little bit of tension in his voice.

  It really was hard on the phone. Not being able to read someone’s expression or survey the way they held their body. Instead, you had to rely on their honesty and the timber of their voice to read their mood.

  “Did you tell my baby four-wheeler that its mommy will be back for it and not to worry?” I asked insanely.

  “Um, no,” he answered, but said it really nicely.

  “Will you go tell it I said hello before you go to work?” I asked, seeing how far I could push him before he told me I was crazy and hung up on me.

  “I tell you what,” he said, still sounding amused and happy. “How about I don’t, but tell you I did?”

  Fake grumbling with a smile on my face, I said, “Well it would have worked, but you ruined the illusion by telling me.”

  His chuckle was infectious, and before long, I was laughing along with him as he told me, “Gotta go, baby. Gotta go tell your baby you said hello, and then run to work.” Then he joked, “The boss really rides my ass if I’m late.”

  “Bye Danny,” I told him, my grin cemented to my face so permanently that it didn’t even budge when I looked up and saw Allison watching me with a keen eye.

  “Bye, my beautiful Haley,” Danny said like he said it every day. It could have sounded cheesy, but it definitely did not. His voice was casual, and his attitude was genuine. I could see his scruffy, dimpled smile as if it was right in front of me.

  I pulled the phone away from my ear, hung up, dropped it into my pink tote that was slung over my shoulder, and looked back into Allison’s knowing, turquoise eyes.

  She said only one word, but it spoke effing volumes. “Trouble.”

  Damn, was she right.

  I was in it, it was brewing, and it was bound to take down a bunch of people when it unraveled. Still, I couldn’t seem to go in any direction other than right toward it.

  AFTER WE HAD our fill of the Grand Canyon, we got back in the car headed for Vegas.

  Discussions were had, and ultimately, we came to the decision to do the unthinkable and continue on with the six hours to Vegas the same day.

  It would be grueling, and horrible, and we would likely be resentful of our decision in the end, but at least we could trade off drivers. And when it got really bad, when exhaustion reached its peak and delirium was just around the corner, we could blame each other.

  Unsurprisingly, we weren’t very many miles down the road when I received a text from Hunter. The only shocking aspect of the message was that it hadn’t come sooner.

  Fucking great. Just the kind of notoriety I’d always dreamed of.

  As much as I hated that I was solidly immersed in my fifteen minutes of fame against my will, I knew I could still get some pleasure out of it.

  Knowing I would be safe from bodily harm as Allison was the one currently operating heavy machinery, I went for it and let her in on the secret.

  “Hey Mamalicious, you know that confrontation we just had after you scared the shit out of me for no reason?” I asked with saccharine sweetness, pretending to look at the state of my fingernails rather than her.

  “Yeah,” she murmured cautiously, rightly recognizing the danger my question presented.

  “Well, so do twenty thousand plus other people,” I deadpanned, flipping my hair over my shoulder dramatically. “It’s on YouTube. It went viral.”

  Waiting for her reaction was a little bit like waiting for the grenade to explode after you had pulled the pin. You knew the explosion was coming, but you prayed you were far enough out of the blast range to keep yourself from getting maimed.

  Or in this case, I prayed that I was a valuable enough commodity as her only daughter to spare my life.

  “I’m a YouTube sensation?!” she squeaked excitedly, reacting the complete opposite way I expected and leaving me at a loss for what to say. She beat her hands on the steering wheel like it was a bongo drum, apparently unable to keep her enthusiasm from trickling into her limbs.

  Seriously, today must have been Opposite day. Twenty-seven years of life had primed me for the reaction I knew would come. And then...it didn’t.

  “Um, you’re excited about this?” I asked, treading lightly. But really, how dumb of a question was that? The woman was beating the steering wheel like a fucking drum.

  “Definitely!” she squealed, glancing away from the road and over at me and making her long hair flip over her shoulder.

  “Um, you do know that everyone heard the details of your loss of virginity, right?” I asked and then tucked my limbs in tight to my body to protect myself from shrapnel.

  “Pff,” she breathed, waving it off with her hand that was free of the steering wheel. “I’m forty-nine, and I have two kids.” She lifted two fingers in the peace symbol, just in case I needed clarification on the number two.

  I was no mathematician, but I was fairly certain I knew what the number two was.

  “I’m pretty sure everybody knows I’m not a virgin. And maybe the new advertising will be good for finding a man.”

  Well, count on Allison, Miss Pure of Heart, to find the silver lining in every cloudy situation.

  Sure, people would probably point and laugh, referring to us as “those crazy women” for the foreseeable future, but it was a no effort expelled method to get noticed by more men.

  It must be a Win.

  Six hours, two pit stops, a driver change, and a lot of complaining later, we were in Las Vegas.

  Red, Blue, Gold, and just about every other color under the sun glinted off the blue metallic paint of my girl, Mustang Sally, flickering into my eyes and threatening to blind me. And you could practically smell the sex and debauchery in the air.

  Needed to get drunk? This was the place to come.

  Needed to get married? This was the place to come.

  Needed to do things you prayed you would never remember and others would never find out? This was the place to come.

  And if you needed to do all three at the same time, drunkenly marrying the nice, high priced hooker from the street corner...this was the place to come.

  I personally hoped to do none of those things. Maybe I would get drunk, but the rest were definitely off the table.

  No, mostly I just wanted to experience it. Las Vegas was the type of place that had its very own atmosphere. If you wanted to experience the feel of Las Vegas, you had to go there.

  No second rate substitutions would do.

  The thing I was noticing most about the atmosphere currently was that it was still as hot as balls, ones that were being unfairly constricted by vise-like underwear, even though it was ten o’clock at night.

  Christ, it must have been well over eighty degrees still.

  Everything was starting to make sense. The puzzle pieces were starting to click together, and they were forming a gargantuan shot glass.

  Everyone was too drunk to notice the heat. Otherwise a huge city in the middle of the desert like this never would have been successful. It was the perfect tourism plan.

  Make sure people get crazy enough that they remember absolutely nothing.

  Something awful happened? They wouldn’t remember.

  It seemed like they had a good time? They would have to come back for confirmation because why? They couldn’t remember.

  “I know it’s late, but in Vegas time it’s like nine in the morning. When we get to the hotel, I’m throwing my stuff in the room and then parking myself in front of a slot machine with a nice glass of Moscato,” I informed Allison with a modest air of arrogance. Like I was the authority on all things Vegas, even though it was my first visit.

  “I’m up for it,” she agreed, though s
he sounded a little on the tired side. Who could blame her, though? We had driven a ton of miles, and spent a lot of hours in the car with a view of nothing other than the desert. That much monotony tends to make the drive seem longer.

  “But I’m not sure the time difference here in Vegas is that significant,” she teased.

  My head tilted back and forth as my mouth opened wide with a mockingly silent laugh.

  The one that says, “You’re hilaaaarious,” emphasis on the “air” and is unbelievably heavy on the sarcasm.

  As I pulled my car up to the valet parking at the Bellagio, I started to get even more excited.

  I had booked our rooms online from the hotel back in Moab. I wanted to make sure we could get a room on such short notice, and knowing that we probably wouldn’t be back to Vegas for awhile, we wanted to do it right.

  And the Bellagio was right.

  It had all the perks, fabulous service, and everything you could want encapsulated right there in one place. Including Cirque Du Soleil. And the big fountain display.

  As I pulled up and shifted into park, gathering my tote, discarded candy wrappers, and what was left of my cup of Coke, the car hop (or whatever you call the valet people) came running over speedily, taking my keys and offering me a ticket and a big smile in return.

  Come to think of it, he was pretty cute. A little Latin ancestry, perhaps, and a big, straight smile.

  Leaving the Hispanic cutie behind and heading into the lobby with my arm linked with Allison’s, I immediately noticed the breathtakingly beautiful, multicolored, glass artwork inspired ceiling.

  It was beyond obvious someone with a gifted creative eye, a lot of uncommon talent, and a large amount of time on their hands was the creator of something so uniquely eye-catching.

  We stood in line for a few minutes to check in, and I passed the time by roving my eyes over everything in sight and singing Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believing” in my head.

  When we finally had our key card in hand, we took the elevator up to the twenty-fifth floor to our Fountain View room.