THERE MIGHT BE an extra hop in my step this morning. I feel like that wasn’t real last night. I know it shouldn’t have happened, but because it did, I also sort of feel like I won a small lottery. Sasha is fucking hot and in a completely different league of human beings—among the people who don’t cuss or outwardly talk about sex in detail. I must be so offensive to her, yet the look in her eyes tells me she’s intrigued by everything I say.
Driving over to the body shop, I ring up Tango to see how the bastard is doing. He answers after a couple of rings and sounds completely out of it. “Hey bro, how’s it hanging,” he asks.
I’d love to tell him it’s been hanging straight out and at a slight angle, but that would lead to questions, so I’ll just be casual. “Great. How are you feeling?”
“Like a bag of ass,” he says.
“What does a bag of ass feel like exactly?”
“Just how it sounds,” Tango says, groaning through his last word.
“Can I bring you anything at lunch time? Dirty mags or a burger?”
“Oh man, yeah, that’d be great,” he says.
“Alright, well if you need anything else, holler before noon.”
“Thanks, Bro,” he says through a heavy exhale. “Oh, hey, man, question for you?”
“Yeah?”
“Were you with a chick in our bathroom last night? Cali heard some girl moaning, I guess…I don’t know. She didn’t care, but she was a little uneasy about some random person being in our house with Tyler there. You know I wouldn’t care if you brought someone home, but I’m not there and I just…”
“Uh…yeah, why don’t we discuss this when I see you at lunch. I didn’t have a random chick over last night, so no worries,” I tell him, nearly shitting myself. I’m not sure how Tango will take this. I know they’ve both been joking about Sasha and I hooking up but I don’t know how serious they were. Part of me thinks they were just teasing since it’s such an unlikely event that most definitely happened last night.
“Um, okay,” he says, curiously. “See ya in a bit.”
That’ll definitely be a fun talk. At least Tango can’t deck me if I’m standing far enough away.
As I pull into the lot, I see Bambi walking in with a lit cigarette hanging from her lips as she’s tying her hair up on top of her head. This feels right today. I think I need this, and I’m actually digging the opportunity to get my hands back under the hood of a pretty woman. It’s been a while and considering this is what I’m supposed to be doing with the rest of my life, it’ll be a good transition back into the world I’ve been missing from.
I swing open the door, finding Bambi behind the back counter, pulling out some tools from one of the drawers. “Should I be surprised you actually showed up?” she asks.
I meet her at the counter, placing my hands down on the wooden top. “I’d say, yeah, if you knew me well enough to make a crappy assumption like that.”
“Well,” she says looking up from the tools she’s laying out. “I’m glad you’re here.” She nods her head over to the 69’ Charger that’s elevated on the lift. “This one needs new calipers, clutch, and headers. Think you can handle it?”
Happiness fills me from the core up into the smile stretched across my face. “Hell yeah.”
“The parts just came in last night. They’re in the storage unit in the back room. All tools are at both lifts so you should have everything you need.”
“Man, I can’t wait to get under that woman and have my way with her,” I say out loud, taking her all in.
“Excuse me?” Bambi says, folding her arms over her chest.
“You heard me.”
“Dude, who are you talking about?” she asks.
I point over to the Charger and look back at her. “Her, obviously.”
“You call cars women?”
I shrug. “What else should I be calling them. Car is such a derogatory word. It’s just degrading to these beautiful pieces of metal.”
Bambi rolls her eyes and drops her rag onto the counter. “This was such a big mistake.”
“Okay, I can leave.” She won’t let me leave, not after the little display of hers when she thought I was out of earshot yesterday.
“Just keep your mouth closed and get the job done.”
“Yes, sir. I mean, ma’am. I mean…”
“Shut it, Jags.”
Bambi comes over to inspect my work as I’m moving along. Part of me thinks she’s acting like a boss, and the other part of me thinks she’s curious about how I do things. “Do you enjoy how I handle this wrench. Does that feel good to you, when I make it tight and hard like that?”
“Seriously? Do you have to talk like that all the time?” she complains.
“I’m not talking to you. I’m talking to the woman. It’s important to ask her how she likes it. It’s something I’ve learned through my experiences.”
“You have a loose screw, you know that?”
“I do. And it’s a good thing I know how to use a screwdriver to make things tight and hard, don’t you think?”
“How do you ever get a chick into bed with you? It honestly boggles my mind.”
“I almost did last night,” I say, matter-of-factly. I’m not sure I was really as close to that happening as I’m making it sound but I bet if I tried a little harder I could have made magic happen.
“What bar were you sweeping last night? Did the poor girl even know her own name by the time you got to her?” Bambi hands me a rag since my hands are covered in grease, and I’m having a hard time gripping this stubborn screw that won’t come loose.
“Actually, it wasn’t like that. I’m staying a buddy’s house right now because he had an accident yesterday and he has some family trouble. He wanted to make sure his wife and daughter were safe at home so I offered to stay with them until he’s better.”
“You slept with your buddy’s wife? You fucking dirtbag. Who does that? He was in an accident, and you’re screwing his wife. You’re disgusting, Jags. More disgusting than I honestly thought you were.” She snatches the rag back and creates some space between us. I’m not so quick to finish my story because I’m getting a kick out of her anger, especially considering she doesn’t even know Cali or Tango. “You don’t even have anything to say about it?”
“So, I didn’t screw my best friend’s wife. My best friend’s wife had her friend over last night. She mistook my dick for a roll of toilet paper, and she needed a lot of toilet paper so things just sort of unraveled if you get my drift. Oh, and then I was looking for the plunger and ended up plunging her by accident.”
“Classy.”
“No, what was classy was when she ended up in the shower with me this morning.” That wasn’t classy. It was a mistake on her part, and I’m pretty sure she’s still considering the mistakes she has made over the past day.
I can tell Bambi doesn’t know what to make of all this. She sort of looks taken aback but also intrigued. “How do you do it, Jags? I mean…to make a girl mistake your cock for a roll of toilet paper, that’s impressive.”
“Just sort of happened. I’m sure you know how that goes.”
I take a minute before I process what I said because I remember Bambi telling me she doesn’t engage in such extraneous activity, which is purely due to her own self-confidence issues.
“Yeah, not quite sure about that,” she responds.
“You need to get laid,” I tell her.
“Not happening. I think I made that pretty clear to you.”
“Yeah, I thought you just weren’t interested in me. Whatever the case, I’m going to find you someone,” I tell her.
“You are not playing matchmaker, but I am glad to hear you won’t be propositioning me again.”
“I received your hint loud and clear the other night, girl. One rejection is all I need.”
She growls at my statement. I’m just not sure which one, since I made a whole lot of statements in the past two minu
tes. “Jags, I’ve known you for two days, and you’re pretty much the most annoying person in my life.” From the sounds of it, I might be the only person in her life, but I can take what she’s dishing out.
“I get that a lot.”
“I’m sure you do,” she laments. “Okay, moving on from this amazing conversation…I have something I want you to look at for me.”
“I can already tell you, they’re the same size. But even if they aren’t, every woman has a slight size difference, so there’s nothing to be ashamed or worried about.”
“I’m going to punch you,” she tells me through a very serious glower. “For real, enough with the raunch.”
“Okay, fine, what do you need me to look at?”
“Someone dumped this bike in the back of our shop, and it looks like it’s been through a wreck. I’m not great with fixing up the motors on bikes, and I don’t know if you have any experience, but since I don’t have a car right this second, I thought this could be a good solution.”
I wipe my hands off on my pants and drag the rag over my forehead. “Yeah, let me see it. I’ve fixed a few bikes. I could probably get it up and running for you. Have you ridden before?”
“My ex was a big biker, so yeah, I’ve been on them.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Not exactly, then.”
“It’s fine; I can teach you,” I tell her.
“You’ve ridden?” she asks.
“For about six years, yeah.”
“Cool.” I feel like I might be breaking through just one layer of her thick skin, but even so, I’m nowhere close enough to figuring out any more about her.
Bambi leads me into the back lot where the bike is leaning up against the wall. It looks like it’s been through more than a wreck. I check it out for a few minutes and take a guess that I should be able to get this thing back up and running. It looks like most of the damage is to the body but the motor looks busted too, so we’ll see. “I should be able to do something with this.”
“What’s she like?” Bambi asks.
“The bike?”
“No,” Bambi laughs, one of the rare laughs that have managed to escape her mouth in the past few days. “The girl from last night.”
“Why, you jealous?”
“You and I are just going to be friends. I’m not jealous, Jags. I don’t want that in my life. And I don’t want you like that in my life. Got it?”
“That?”
“A relationship, boyfriend, someone to screw. I just want cars and that’s it.”
“Got it,” I say, but I really don’t get it. Was she like this before the explosion? I can imagine the trauma of that experience could do this to a person, make them monogamous to themselves, closing out the world around them.
“So?” she asks, taking a swig of water from her bottle.
“Let’s see,” I laugh. “I could describe her quite simply as a Southern belle, although she doesn’t consider herself one.”
And the water is quickly spewed back out of her lips. “You and a Southern belle? Now that’s funny.
“Are you aware how those girls think and act? They’re not on the same playing field as you are. They want lemonade and fancy barbecues under Christmas lights hanging from trees, and for some reason, you don’t strike me as the type.” She isn’t wrong. About any of it.
“I think that’s why I’m attracted to her,” I say, grabbing the water from her hand and stealing a quick swig.
“Those type of girls don’t care about your attraction level. They want to be swept off their feet and shit. Trust me. I used to be one of them.”
I laugh because I find that funny and hard to believe. “First off, I can’t image you being a Southern belle. Second, I can sweep a chick off her feet.”
“While you’re talking about pussies and cocks?” she grins. Have I really defined myself this well to Bambi already?
“She likes it,” I tell her. “Plus, clearly, you’ve proven that people change.” God knows, I’ve changed. I used to be a quiet, good kid who got good grades, did what I was told, and didn’t speak out of turn. Then I watched death creep over a desert with arms shooting out at me, crying for help. That’s when I changed. That’s when I became the me I am now. Everyone who changes, changes because of something.
“Right, I’m sure she just adores it—your dirty mouth.”
“She does.” I place the bike back up against the wall. “She keeps coming back for more. I bet you she’s been locked up in her parents’ attic for so long that she’s dying to see what she can spike her lemonade with.”
Bambi laughs at my analysis. “Look, I’d laugh at you if I saw you dumped by a Southern belle because it just sounds like a stupid idea, but don’t get wrapped up in something like that. The novelty of your dirty mouth to her virgin ears will get old real fast, and you’ll be left on the side of the road somewhere while she drives off into the sunset with a Ken doll. Sorry, but she doesn’t sound like the G. I. Joe type.” I can see this all happening, and if I were in love with the girl, I’d consider it, but right now, I kind of just have a little personal challenge going on. I think it’ll be impressive to turn a Southern belle into a little badass chick who can walk in heels after she’s slugged a glass of Jack. We’re halfway there.
“Thanks for your concern, Bambi.” I run the backside of my hand across my forehead, feeling the sun beating down on us. “I gotta run over to the hospital and see my buddy during lunch. Can I bring you back anything?”
“I’m good,” she says, looking away from me. What now?
“Did I say something to hurt your feelings, Bambi?”
“Yeah, I was hoping you’d say you’d run off into the sunset with me tonight.” A sneering grin tugs at the corner of the lips.
“I offered the other night.”
“No, you didn’t, remember?”
“I can’t remember. I was drunk.”
“You’re wasting your lunch hour.”
After stopping for some nudie mags and a couple of burgers, I make my way into the hospital. Tango’s in a different room now that he’s not fresh out of surgery so it takes a few minutes to find out where he is.
As soon as I enter his room, I find I’m late to the party. Cali, Tyler, and Sasha are all here with lunch in hand. I don’t know if Tango forgot I told him that I was bringing lunch or if they just showed up with it, but I guess now there’s more for me. “Hey dude, I didn’t know they were bringing lunch by,” Tango says, shoving half a sandwich into his mouth. “You haven’t eaten yet have you?”
“Nah, I just came straight here.” I had no idea they’d be here, and I’m not sure what to do with the magazine-filled bag dangling from my hand. I subtly try to move the bag to my back so no one notices it, but I know Tango has already spotted it. I don’t want to get him in trouble while he’s totally immobile.
“Bro, we read that shit together before bed every night. Hand it over.” Cali’s looking at Tango, confused yet intrigued at the same time. He waves me over, and I feel like everyone’s eyes are burning into me, including the pretty young nurse in the corner who looks very curious.
I reach the bag over to him and take a few steps back. He’s going to whip those things out right here in front of all the ladies. Class-act, Tango.
Shit. He does. He yanks them out, and Cali quickly meets him at his side. “Ah! I love Cuffs Satin Pages. Thanks, Jags. That’s so thoughtful of you.”
“Oh my gosh,” Sasha says, covering her mouth. “Cali, you can’t be serious.”
“Sasha, haven’t we had this talk a few times in the last couple of days. Until you really explore your inner interests, you don’t enjoy things to the fullest.”
“Cali, those women are degrading themselves, displaying all of their private parts publicly. How would you feel if you saw Tyler on that?” she whispers the latter half of her question.
“Tyler knows better,” she snaps back.<
br />
“At five?” Oh man, these two are going to brawl in a minute.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be lecturing me after your escapades last night,” Cali warns Sasha. Oh shit. She knows. Just four hours ago, Tango was accusing me of bringing another woman home, so how did they draw this other conclusion that includes Sasha? Her cheeks are burning red, and she whips her head around to look at me as if I had run and told them what happened last night.
“Cali,” Sasha snaps. “What are you accusing me of?”
“Jags?” Cali asks me. “What am I accusing her of?” Why is everyone looking at me again? All I was trying to do was jack off alone in a dark bathroom. Damn. “And then again this morning?”
“Um,” Sasha says, clearly stalling and trying to think of a response. I’m so busy watching her trying to come up with something that I haven’t tried to think of anything on my own.
“Neither of you have anything to say?” Cali presses.
“Aw, leave them alone,” Tango tells her. “We knew it was inevitable.”
“It’s not what you think,” Sasha says.
“Yeah, Mommy, Auntie Sasha was just praying to God last night. A lot. She must be scared about something. You always tell me if I’m scared that I should pray to God. Right?”
Everyone erupts with laughter, everyone except Sasha. I’m pretty sure if she could melt into the floor and disappear, she would right now.
“Well, Tyler thinks it was what it sounded like,” Cali says, sneering at us both.
“It was just a misunderstanding,” I finally say.
“Yeah,” Sasha adds in. “That’s right.”
Tango and Cali share a look and then peer back over at us. “Whatever. I hope you both enjoyed your misunderstanding.”
I clear my throat because even I’m getting uncomfortable right now, but only because Sasha looks like she might vomit. “You going to stay and hang out for a few?” Tango asks.
Even though I feel like I’m going to do more harm than good, I take a seat in the corner of the room and unwrap my sandwich. I’m going to guess it wasn’t nearly this quiet before I got here. “Sasha, have you heard from Landon at all?” Cali asks her.
Spiked Lemonade: A Bad Boy Sailor and a Good Girl Romantic Comedy Standalone Page 13
