Spiked Lemonade: A Bad Boy Sailor and a Good Girl Romantic Comedy Standalone

by Ryan, Shari J.

  My face tightens at her remark. I shouldn’t be surprised by her comment, but she seems like such a bed-of-nails type of woman that I wouldn’t think she’d be lacking so much confidence. She’s also the type of woman who wouldn’t want me to say, “No way, you’re wrong.” I’m not sure how I’ve figured this woman out so quickly in the very short amount of time I have known her, but her attitude and personality feel familiar like she’s one of the guys or something. “There’s a lot of superficial men out there.” I’m probably one of them most of the time.

  “What about you? I’m guessing you have a bunch of women waiting for you back in Boston and probably already have a couple lined up here.” Her smirk returns as she takes another sip of her coffee.

  “You think you’re pretty funny, don’t you?”

  “I know I’m funny, and possibly saying something that’s very true.”

  “For your information, most women don’t find men who are six-foot-four and two-hundred-fifty pounds, covered in tattoos and a scruffy beard attractive.”

  She sighs quietly, “True. Well, I guess us two ugly birds can be alone forever.” Serious or not, she lets out a small laugh. Misery does enjoy company. That’s for damn sure. Plus, I appreciate that she didn’t tell me I was wrong. “I must say, you’re awfully cocky when you’re trying to pick up women, considering you think no one would ever be interested in you.”

  “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

  “I’ll give you that.” Bambi slaps her hands down on the tabletop and stands up to chuck the wrapper and coffee cup into the trash behind her. “Ready for your interview?”

  “What interview?” I question, feeling a little lost.

  “For your new job?”

  Wait a minute, nah-uhh. This chick thinks she’s going to interview me to work at her auto shop. I kind of want to laugh at the thought of it but…what the hell, I’ll play along. “Sure thing, Bambi. Should we do it here, my motel room, or in your shop?”

  “Wow, you just don’t quit, do you?”

  “Would the right answer to this be yes or no if I were applying to be a mechanic at your shop?” I pause for a minute, giving her the impression that I am thoroughly thinking this through. “Um, I’ll go with no, I don’t quit. So…yeah, you’d have to fire me if things didn’t work out.”

  “Oh, that wouldn’t be a problem,” she says through snippy laughter while walking past me to the door.

  As I follow her outside, my phone shockingly vibrates in my back pocket. The last call I got was from Tango a couple of weeks ago, telling me I needed to come out here to help him. Not so shockingly, it’s Tango again. “What’s up, man?” I answer.

  “You still looking for a job? We’ve got an opening at a site today, and we could use another body,” he explains.

  I stop walking and turn away from the traffic that’s making it hard to hear what he’s saying. With my finger pressed against my opposite ear, I think for a second. I’d rather be doing my thing with cars but I’m guessing Bambi wouldn’t hire me on the spot and have me start five minutes later. I’ll feed into her little interview game now and head over to wherever the hell Tango is afterward. “Yeah, dude, I can do that. As long as it doesn’t ruin my manicure or anything. I mean, I just got my—”

  “Jags, dude, be here at 10:00. 4040 Catalina Street.”

  “So no, the job won’t ruin my nails?”

  No response. Jackass. My man used to have a sense of humor, but I’m guessing his doministress fucked it out of him. Lucky. I drop my phone back into my pocket and catch up to Bambi, who never stopped walking. “I’ve only got thirty minutes then I need to go help my buddy out on a house build down the street.”

  “What if I asked you to start today?” Bambi asks.

  “I’d say no. If you asked me ten minutes ago, I would have told my buddy no. You snooze, you lose.”

  We cross the busy street again and continue across the parking lot abutting the auto shop. She doesn’t pause before whipping open the glass door and walking in through the garage, up to the back counter. “Morning, chief,” one of the guys shouts from below a—whoa, what the—?

  “69 Boss 429. Niceeee,” I say in a sexual moan because that’s what beautiful cars and women do to me. They’re pretty much the same thing in my head—both heads.

  After checking it out like she’s a hot chick, I press my elbows down on the counter as Bambi turns her back to me and strips off her shirt, leaving me with a pleasant view of her bra-laced back. No confidence, my ass. She pulls on a white, oil-stained shirt and pins her long hair up in a messy knot on the top of her head. “I like your loyalty, Jags. And you know the exact model of that car.” She holds a wrench up in the air and narrows her good eye half shut. “What’s this?”

  I laugh at the simplicity of her question. “A lug wrench, Bambi.”

  “You’re hired. Now get out of here. I’ll see you in the morning at eight sharp.”

  I press off the counter and salute her. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  I don’t get a smile or a goodbye out of her, but that’s to be expected at this point. Only I would want to be friends with the most miserable person in the world. So because of that, I challenge myself to make this woman laugh more than she scowls.

  The second I step out of the not-so-soundproof front door, I hear her shriek…a noise I’m pretty sure I didn’t think I’d hear from her. “Do you know who that was? Do you know who his dad is? Holy shit, Hal, this is huge!”

  I reopen the door and stick my head back in. “Yeah, that’s right, Bambi, I’m the shit, and you know it. Stop pretending like I’m not.” Her eyes grow wide, and she leans against the back wall with an, “Oh shit, you just heard me,” look.

  “Get out of here, I’ll see you tomorrow,” she says, doing her absolute best to hide the smile that so badly wants to crawl across her lips right now. See, only I can make the most miserable person in the world smile. One point for Jags.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  SASHA

  MANAGING TO GET into my car without Cali stopping me with a million questions is pretty much like winning the lottery today. I know neither she nor Tango wants me going home right now but I have no plans to be a nomad. The two of them have enjoyed that lifestyle, but it’s not for me. I like stability and knowing where my bed is going to be every night. I’ll find someone to change the locks today or something. Plus, with the damage Tango and Jags caused Landon last week, I don’t think he has any real desire to continue a relationship with me.

  I still can’t believe I trusted Landon all of that time. I just wanted the house, the husband, and the kids—the perfect life, and now I’m twenty-seven and flat on my ass, kind of. I mean, I still have a job and a house, but I hate feeling so sorry for myself.

  I don’t get further than three streets away from Cali before my phone is buzzing up a storm in the cup holder. I consider not pressing the talk button and just letting it go to voicemail, but that will only gain me another ten calls and nasty voice messages. “Yes, Cali,” I drawl.

  “Where did you go? I thought we were going apartment hunting today. And job hunting…we forgot to add that to your list because you can’t go back to that restaurant now. Landon’s a cook there,” she sighs. “Anyway, where are you?”

  Right. Landon. I can’t go to the restaurant. That is why I have called out sick all week, avoiding the inevitable “I quit” phone call. I’m so tired, I’m not thinking clearly anymore. I need sleep. A whole night of uninterrupted sleep. I don’t even know where I am going right now. “Oh, I didn’t want to wake you. It sounded like you guys were sound asleep and I can’t imagine what in the world you could be so tired from,” I say, my words dripping with mockery.

  “Oh, you mean the sex?”

  “Cali!”

  “Sex. Sex. Sex. What can I say? I just can’t get enough of Tango’s love-stick. We tried out some new creative positions today and played with some new sex toys. Oh and then another time,
he took his toothbrush…”

  “Holy mother of God, you stop right there. I cannot take this anymore. Who are you and when did my best friend become a porn star?”

  “I’m kidding, Sash. Do you know how funny you sound when you get so worked up over me talking about sex? You know I just want you to be more comfortable with the topic, right? It’s because I love you, just remember that,” she jabbers on. “Anyway, we weren’t sleeping. I was taking Tyler to school, and Tango had to be at work early. We left when you were in the shower, but I figured I’d be back before you were done curling your hair for the sixty long minutes it takes you. That is seriously a lot of work to do every day. Have you ever thought about just letting it go au naturel? So much easier and you have such pretty hair.” How does she have so much energy this early? Better question is, how much coffee has she already had?

  I glance in the rear view mirror at the wet mess bunched in disarray on the top of my head. Never do I leave the house looking like a drowned rat or “au naturel” as Cali puts it, but I couldn’t get out of there fast enough today. “I forgot, I have a doctor’s appointment this morning,” I lie. I don’t ever lie to my best friend, but I definitely can’t tell her the truth right now.

  “What kind of doctor’s appointment?” she asks, crunching something loudly in my ear. “Gyno? Do you have an itch you can’t scratch?” She laughs at her own joke before continuing the badgering. “Kidding. Are you okay?”

  “You know what, Cali, I lied. You’ve always been a little rough around the edges, and it was something…no, it is something I adore about you, but ever since you and Tango found each other, you’ve turned into the female version of him. You’re just so raunchy and feral now. I don’t feel like I can keep up with you sometimes. It’s just uncomfortable.”

  Cali moan-groans through a loud exhale. “I’m sor-r-r-rry, Sash. I know Tango has rubbed one off on me…I mean rubbed off on me. Ha ha. I think he’s only brought out who I really am inside, though,” she laughs. “Have you ever considered that maybe you need to be a little more comfortable with yourself and not so reserved?” I can’t believe she’s trying to make me feel like the weird one.

  “Oh, excuse me, Miss ‘I stick toothbrushes up my lady parts.’”

  “Whoa, whoa, what made you jump to that conclusion?”

  “Where else would a toothbrush go?” I ask, not hiding the smidgen of anger lacing my voice.

  “Um,” she spews. “In my mouth?”

  “In your mouth? That’s what Tango did with his toothbrush? He stuck it in your mouth?” I ask matter-of-factly.

  “Yeah, what else would he do with it?” she asks, making it sound like I’m some kind of freak. “God, Sasha, get your mind out of the gutter. You’re so dirty!”

  Irritated with her ridiculousness, I realize again I don’t know where the heck I’m driving to, and I’m getting on the freeway, which won’t lead me anywhere good. Or maybe it would. Maybe I should run away. It’s what I’ve wanted to do for the longest time. I just don’t have the courage, and I probably never will. With a split second to make a decision, I veer away from the entrance ramp and continue down the quiet road lined with cattle ranches and rolling bales of hay.

  “You know what you need,” Cali says, taking another bite of…is she eating tortilla chips for breakfast? Gosh, that’s annoying.

  “Could you stop chewing in my ear please?”

  “Oh,” she swallows. “Sorry.” Her words echo as I hear her gulping whatever she’s now drinking. “What I was going to say was, I think you should hook up with Jags and join the dark side. He would make you happy, and I want you to be happy.”

  I laugh quietly at her suggestion. “First, Jags would crush me if we were to ever…”

  “Say it. Say the word. Just do it for me!” Cali begs.

  “Do the deed,” I continue, refusing to give in to her plea for foul language.

  “Oh, he looks like the gentle giant type. I wouldn’t worry about that,” she adds in.

  How the heck did we get onto this topic? I’m not sleeping with Jags. My goodness. He’s not my type, I’m sure of that, and I am most definitely not his. My virgin skin probably scared his inked skin away.

  “Cali, I have to get going. We’ll talk about this…no, we won’t talk about this again.”

  “Well…” she crunches again. Ugh. “When do you want to go life shopping?”

  “Life shopping?” I repeat.

  “Yeah, you know…you need to get a new life now, so I was going to help you with that.”

  “Good-bye, Cali.”

  “Later, Miss Piggy.”

  I shouldn’t feel a sense of relief when hanging up with my life-long best friend, but she’s seriously driving me bonkers lately. Even when I was dating Landon, she often had something to say about it and was typically prying into our love life between the sheets, which was pretty much nonexistent at the end anyway, but she knows it’s not something I like to divulge. She has no filter. I know this. I’m understanding of it, but she’s not so understanding of my filter that’s very much in place.

  Driving aimlessly around in this small barren town, I not so shockingly end up in my driveway at my house. I miss my house. I miss my freedom and my space. Tango and Cali made it very clear they didn’t want me coming back here for a few weeks, until things settled down with Landon but I haven’t heard from Landon since Jags and Tango handled “that situation,” and I’m guessing I would have heard from him by now if he wanted to get in touch.

  I park my mini-coop and hop out, moving a little quicker than usual to get inside. Once I lock myself in, memories and reality rush toward me at warp speed. The TV is still on from days ago, and I can smell something rotting in the kitchen. What’s worse is that there are pictures of Landon and me all around the house. I honestly thought he was the real deal. Did he ever love me? Or was it an act from the beginning? I feel like I won’t ever know.

  Walking into my bedroom, I tear the sheets off the bed and throw them down into a pile on the ground. They smell like him. This whole room smells like him and the expensive cologne I bought for his birthday.

  After smashing each picture from the lineup across my bureau, I move on to the kitchen. A chef, my butt. He was probably just pretending to be that too; although, he did know how to cook. So it must just be a coincidence that he’s affiliated with money-hungry crime and can also cook a mean meal. Stupid jerk.

  Besides the rotting trash, the kitchen still kind of smells like that darn bread he had to make every week. As soon as the scent would finally dissipate, he’d make the next loaf. It was the bread he made us sandwiches with. It was honestly just the sweetest thing. I had lunch to bring with me to work every single day. How can someone want to make another person lunch every day and then turn out to be some kind of psycho-criminal? I suppose I could ask Cali; she seems to know the type of man well. Every one of that girl’s ex-boyfriends ended up being more trouble than she could handle. I’m pretty sure most of them are either in jail or dead now. She’s got the golden touch, I guess.

  My phone vibrates loudly on the living room coffee table, and it startles me half to death. With my hand clutched over my chest, I walk over and snatch the phone from the table, noticing a number I don’t recognize flashing across my screen. I’m hesitating to answer it, but I feel like I need to. My parents always taught me that it’s rude to ignore someone’s call, and those old habits die hard.

  “Hello?” I ask, hearing my voice shake a bit.

  “Hello to you too, Miss Sasha.”

  “Jags? How did you get my…”

  “Cali and Tango know everything,” he laughs. “And I mean—everything.” His voice sort of growls at the end of his statement, insinuating something I don’t want to dig too deep into.

  Why would Tango give Jags my number? Why would Jags even want to call me?

  “I see. Well, can I help you?” I ask, plopping down onto the couch.

  “So,
ah, about your phone charger…” he begins.

  “I already told you, silly, you can keep it.”

  He clears his throat, obviously trying to interrupt me. “And I appreciate that, but Tango told me I must give it back to you.” Why in the world would Tango care about my phone charger? It’s a stupid little cord.

  “Oh, he did, did he? And why would Tango care so much about my phone charger?” I press.

  “Well, uh—” his words are cut off as I hear a wrestling noise against the phone on his side of the call.

  “Hello?” I say, wondering what is happening.

  “Where are you, Sasha?” Tango asks sternly.

  “Really? You used Jags to get through to me?”

  “I know you didn’t know his number, and I know damn well you wouldn’t have answered the phone if I called. Where the hell are you?”

  “I’m—” Crud. He’s going to know I’m lying just for the pure fact that I haven’t given him an answer yet. Tango is like the big brother I’m not sure I ever wanted in my life. He treats me like Tyler, his own daughter, except Tango and I are the same age. But that’s Tango, always out to protect everyone he cares about, and I suppose since I’m Cali’s best friend, I fall under that category.

  “Goddammit, Sasha. You’re in that house, aren’t you?” he snaps.

  Tango scares me a little. Not scary as in he’d ever hurt me or anything, just like that overprotective mama-bear type of scare. I’m sure he’d just love to know I’m comparing his behavior to a female bear. I want to giggle at my own thought, but that would just ripen this conversation.

  “I needed to get some more clothes, Tango. I’m fine. Really.”

  “My ass, you’re fine. Landon is not sitting pretty in jail somewhere, Sasha. He’s roaming around somewhere. Do you know what he’d do to you if he found you right now?” I’ve been avoiding the thought. Or trying to, at least. “You have to know this situation isn’t settled yet, and you’re not safe until it is.” I thought it was settled. I thought that when Tango and Jags had their little physical talk with Landon that everything was cleared up. Everything except the true meaning behind our six-year relationship.