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

by Ryan, Shari J.

  Instinctively, I pull away from him, feeling sick, sad, hurt, and lied to. “Is everything okay with you and Mom?” I ask. I talk to mom almost every other day. Our relationship is nothing like my relationship with Dad. The two of them haven’t shown an issue with each other, nor made me think things weren’t as picture perfect as they have appeared to be. However, I have many times wondered how fake Mom’s smile was when Dad would come home late at night as she was reheating dinner and pouring him his strong drink, all while he never even offered her so much as a thank you.

  “Of course it is, sweetheart,” he laments. “Why wouldn’t it be?” It wasn’t intentional, but my focus visibly shifts back to the trashcan, and he follows my gaze. Another clearing of his throat answers my question. “That’s not what you think it is.”

  “Okay,” I say quietly, making my way back toward the door.

  “Sasha,” he says. “Please don’t mention this to your mother.” Final nail in the coffin, I suppose. Just what I needed, more added stress.

  I neither agree nor disagree, when I leave his office. I was expecting this encounter to go much differently. Is there no one in my life I can trust? Everyone just keeps turning on me or proving they aren’t who they have pretended to be. This is why I don’t want to rely on anyone. This is why I should consider remaining single for the rest of my life; although, the thought of that hurts almost as much as finding out someone I love has lied to me.

  The hallways are a blur as I walk through them, and the goodbyes sound muffled as I ignore everyone, not even feigning interest in those around me this time. As I make my way to the car, I notice the clouds are darker than I want to believe they are. If this moment isn’t defining my life right now, I don’t know what will. It’s as if a dark cloud has settled over my entire life. I just want to go back to bed—the bed I’m sleeping in at Cali’s house—and make this day go away.

  I turn the key in the ignition, and I’m immediately greeted with the darn tire light, repeating what Jags told me two hours ago. Of course, just what I need right now. I press a few buttons, looking for the tire gauge numbers, not that I really know what I’m looking for, but when I get to the picture with the tires, it shows that all of the numbers are the same except one number that’s at least fifteen less than the others. That can’t be good.

  I head out of the lot and pull onto the street, not feeling much of a difference with my tire pressure being low, so I consider heading back and dealing with it at lunchtime tomorrow. Plus, it really does look like the sky is about to fall.

  Once on the empty highway, I feel the difference—my car feels wobbly and unsteady. Crud, crud, crud. Cali’s house is only a couple more miles. I have to be able to make it. Even if I wanted to get the tire fixed now, the body shop is in the other direction and more than a couple miles away. I have no choice. I bring my speed down much slower than what I should be driving on a highway, and I remain in the right lane. Please, just let me get back.

  The shuddering of the car gets worse, even with my low speed, and I’m pretty sure I hear metal grinding against the pavement. No, no, no. The beeping on my dashboard is telling me to pull over and now I know I don’t have a choice. I throw the gear in park and shove my head back against the seat in defeat. I don’t know how to change a friggin’ tire. I look up to the sky again, partly to ask God why he’s punishing me today, but also to see how dark the clouds are really becoming. I flip on the radio to hear the forecast, hoping they’ll just say the clouds are passing by. It’s a commercial, though.

  I should call roadside assistance. It’s the middle of a Tuesday so I wouldn’t think it would take them long to get here. With my phone gripped in my palm, I start searching for the number, but I’m quickly distracted when the emergency broadcasting system buzz blares through the radio.

  To all residents of Candlewood and surrounding areas, please be advised that there is a severe storm warning and tornado warning currently in effect for the next two hours. Heavy rain and high winds with gusts up to 75 mph are imminent. A tornado has just touched down thirty-five miles east of Candlewood and is moving west at approximately 45 mph. If you are in the path of this storm, please, take cover and find a safe place to remain until the storm passes.

  Oh my gosh, I have to get out of here. Rain is already starting to fall, and I’m beginning to panic. How can I not? I mentally run through a list of people who I can call to help me. My options are Dad, Cali, or Mom. It’s Tuesday, and that’s errands day for Mom so she’s probably out toward the city. Cali has Tyler and is probably still at the hospital with bigger problems to worry about than me stuck on the side of the darn highway with a flat tire I was told to get checked out. Then there’s Dad…I’d rather get sucked into a tornado than call him right now. Of course, I’m avoiding the last option because I refuse to be this damsel in distress, fitting the person he has already labeled me to be, but I suppose I should swallow my pride and call him rather than truly get sucked up in a darn tornado. Shoot.

  I tap my fingers against the keypad on my phone, debating whether to send Jags a message.

  Ugh. Darn. Darn. Darn!

  Me: I’m kind of stuck on the side of the highway, and I have NO ONE else to call for help. I’m desperate.

  I’m aware it’s a rude message to send, but I need him to know I’m not doing this to gain more unwanted attention from him. I am truly desperate.

  Jags: Wow, you really have no friends, huh?

  See. This is exactly why I didn’t want to ask him for help. I do have friends, but they’re all married with kids and happily settled down. These friends don’t want single friends in their cookie cutter lives. At least, that’s the impression I’ve gotten over the years as the late-night house party invitations turned into one-year-old birthday party invitations and then into messages seeing if I was still hanging in there. Due to being single—meaning still unmarried—and all. Then it all just stopped. The pity for a single friend got old and so did our friendships. Cali’s the only one who stuck by my side, even if she is more like a thorn there sometimes.

  Jags: Hey, so you know there’s a tornado warning and possible golf-ball size hail coming, right? You shouldn’t be sitting on the side of the road in your small little coupe.

  I’m pretty sure this is the reason for my desperation, hello?

  Me: Yes, I’m aware. Hence my request for your help.

  Jags: So, you want me to venture off into a storm to save your butt when I told you just two hours ago that there was a problem with your tire?

  The rain is pounding down over my windshield now, and there’s hail accompanying it. I kind of feel bad asking him to put himself in danger just because I did make a dummy decision.

  Me: You know what, you’re right, I’ll be fine. I’m just going to ride the storm out and call roadside assistance. Sorry to bother you.

  Ten minutes passes, and I can’t see out of the windshield at all. The rain is so loud I can hardly hear the radio blaring about the storm, which is probably for the best. I can only pray the tornado warning was just a warning. We get the warnings often. Usually, there’s no tornado to follow, but this storm is bad, and I just don’t know what to expect right now. I remove my seatbelt, scared of having to move, not that I would know where to move to. With my eyes closed, I take some deep breaths, trying to push the fear away. The seconds give me a blank canvas to question every decision I’ve recently made in my life. Including the one where I was completely rude to the one person who would actually help me right now.

  With the thunder slamming overhead, my car rattles along with the force and it almost sounds like there’s a pounding noise on one of the doors. What the heck is that? I can’t see through any of the windows but I’ll make an assumption that’s the golf-ball-sized hail Jags had mentioned.

  Except hail can’t open doors, and my passenger side door is wide open. I lean over to yank it shut, but a soaked man with a hood jumps into my car and closes the door with him inside. Whe
n the hood comes off, I see it’s Jags and his taunting little grin. “Doll-face,” he laments. “I warned you.” I don’t care how cocky he is right now. I’m really happy to see him. I can’t help smiling inside as I think that he braved this storm for me, even when I told him not to.

  “Now we’re both stuck here,” I tell him, knowing he can’t exactly go out and fix my tire in this. “I didn’t think it would be like this or I wouldn’t have asked you for help, not that I thought you were even coming anyway.” I can’t look at him while I say this so I keep my hands locked on the wheel and my gaze frozen on the windshield. I’m embarrassed for making yet another dumb decision. It’s all I seem to be doing around this man.

  “You do have blonde hair,” he says, chuckling. Not like I haven’t heard that one before. Yet, I deserve it this time.

  “Funny,” I groan.

  “It’s pretty blonde hair, so it’s okay,” he follows with.

  Stop complimenting me, Jags. I don’t deserve that. “Why did you even come?”

  “You think I’d leave you out here with a busted tire?”

  “You don’t owe me anything, and it’s not like you can fix my tire right now.”

  “You’re right, but at least I’ll know you’re safe during this shit storm we have going on out there.” Shit storm. I glance over at him and offer the smile I’ve been trying to hide since the second he came to my rescue. “This car is tiny. My God, how do you even drive this thing.” I look at the top of his head, which is pressed up against the roof. I guess I didn’t realize how small it was, but it works for me.

  “I hope I didn’t get you in any trouble at work?” I tell him.

  “My boss is bitchy in general so if she’s mad, I won’t know the difference.”

  “I thought your boss was ‘some chick’, Bambi or something, you picked up at a bar.” My voice sounds a little snarkier than I intended but that is what I’ve heard about his employment situation.

  “I told you it wasn’t like that,” he explains. Not that it should matter since he doesn’t owe me an explanation. “She and I are friends, and we have a history two people shouldn’t have to have.” I want to press for more information, especially seeing as this is the most serious conversation I’ve had with Jags, but I know him well enough now that he’d cough up the information if he wanted to.

  The storm has been settled over us for at least twenty minutes, which is longer than these storms usually last here. The winds are still getting stronger, and the car is starting to sway against the gusts. It’s making me nervous. Jags presses his head back into his seat and tries to scoot his body down to create some space between the ceiling and his head. He turns to look at me, and I’m not sure what my face looks like right now, but he twists his body to face me and takes my white-knuckled grip off the steering wheel. “I don’t know your last name.”

  “Caldwell,” I barely get out.

  “What’s your favorite drink, besides whisky, obviously?” he asks with a quick wink. I’m having trouble thinking of an answer as I’m pretty sure the tires are starting to move beneath the car. “I feel like I might already have you pegged. Should I take a guess?”

  I nod, trying to look at him but really looking past him at the water cascading down the window. “Okay.”

  “Lemonade is your favorite drink, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah,” I breathe. “I think I just saw something fly by, like a piece of metal or a tree trunk.”

  Jags turns around to look out the window, but there’s nothing there now. “We’re okay.”

  “The car’s moving, isn’t it?” He doesn’t seem the slightest bit nervous, but he agrees silently.

  “It’s not moving, but we’re swaying,” he says.

  “There’s a deep ditch over there, like a ten-foot deep ditch,” I say pointing out of his window.

  “You sure?”

  “I’m positive.” I’m positive that if the winds continue to pick up, we’re moving closer in that direction by the second, too.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  JAGS

  THIS IS BAD. I have perfected the, no, we’re not going to die look. Now, if only I could convince myself of that. Honestly, I must have nine lives, and I’m only on four or five, so I should have faith that I’ll get out of this one too, with Sasha in tow.

  “Okay, listen to me,” I tell her, looking her right in the eyes. “Before the wind picks up anymore, I need to go outside and see what our location is. It’s going to be okay.” The look on her face is a look I’m all too familiar with. I told Bambi she was going to be okay too. Relatively speaking, she is, other than the flesh part; although, her heart’s a little black now too.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Sasha tells me, tears now filling her eyes.

  “Doll-face, I don’t think we have much of a choice.”

  “Please, don’t leave me,” she cries and grapples at my soaked sweatshirt. “Please. I don’t even know your real name, but you know my full name. That’s not fair. Right?”

  I scoop my hand behind her head and bring her forehead to my lips. Her head feels hot to the touch, but her hair smells like flowers and vanilla or something like that. It’s a nice distraction from the current situation. Pulling away, I tug the hood of my sweatshirt back over my head, like it’s going to do me any good with how heavy the rain is coming down, not to mention the pelting hail. It’s like combat but with ice balls…not really the same thing at all. This is more like a food fight between the Marines I was traveling alongside. With one last glance in Sasha’s direction and at the tears cascading down her cheeks, I force a genuine smile, trying to ease some of her fear. “My name is Jason Andrew Gaits. Besides Tango, you’re the only one I’ve told that to in over ten years. So let that be our secret.”

  She nods her head quickly as more tears break from the corners of her pretty doe-like eyes. I’ve done my best to make this girl like me, and I’m willing to bet if I can get us both out of this storm in one piece, I might just get my way. With a lot of force, I push open the car door. I’m immediately thrown into the side of the car and pelted with hail and water drops the size of small balloons. Visibility is rough, and it reminds me of the sandstorms we were fighting through, except I might prefer water over sand. That shit hurt like hell when it got into our eyes. I shield my arm over my face, trying to get an idea of our location, and while I can’t see much, I can see we’re way too damn close to the edge of the ditch. Like Sasha said, the ditch is about a ten-foot drop. I think I have an idea, but I have to get her out of the car since this thing is probably going over the side in about a minute. Shoving my way through the wind while grabbing onto the extruding parts of her car, I struggle to pull myself around to the other side where I rip open her door. “What are you doing?” she cries out.

  “I need you to get out of the car, Sasha.” As the words form around her, something behind me catches my attention, and I turn around to see a pretty-good-sized tree branch shooting past me. Jesus.

  Thankfully, she doesn’t argue and reaches out for me. I pull her out and into me, feeling her hands tighten around my waist. She’s shaking so hard, I can feel it even with the shit that’s hitting us from every direction. Doing my best to wrap myself around her, I close the car door and press both of our bodies up against it.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says faintly, her words muffled against my chest. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I need you to help me push,” I tell her. The wind is coming from the left so it’s in our favor to get the car over the edge. Thankfully Bambi lent me a loaner piece of crap, which is probably also going over the side in a minute. My insurance probably isn’t that awesome on the rental I’ve been running into the ground every day since I got here.

  “You want it to go over?” she asks, I think. I can’t hear her very well.

  “Just push!” I shout over the wind.

  I’m not sure if she’s helping or not but the wind is picking up, and w
e’re getting pinned to the side of this thing so I scoot her down toward the trunk with hope that we don’t end up going over with the car. It needs to be positioned so it goes down on its own. There’s terrain at the bottom and it’ll lodge the car into place. That’s the only plan I have, anyway.

  It only takes another minute, maybe less, and the car tips over the side. I take Sasha’s hand and yell to her, “Get down, flat on the ground.” Her eyes are so wide; it’s breaking my heart. I’m scared too, and I’d tell her that, but it would make her twice as scared. She does what I tell her to, and I get down, hovering my body over hers to protect her from the wind. I wrench my arm under her and pull us to the edge where I start to lower myself down until I’m hanging. “I need you to roll off the side when I tell you to!” I yell up to her.

  Sasha is full out crying, and I don’t blame the poor thing. I know I tease the shit out of her because she lives in this little bubble castle of hers but for someone who’s lived down here her whole life, you’d think she’d know to listen to the weather warnings. Texas clearly doesn’t play around. I let my hands slip from the rocks and fall the few feet down beside the car. “Jags!” she screams.

  She’s already rolling off, and it isn’t because I told her to. The wind is just that bad. “I gotcha,” I yell up to her. “It’s okay. Let go.”

  Sasha tumbles down the side of ledge thankfully only brushing against the rocks on the side. I do catch her and fall to the ground with her.

  After quickly recovering from the fall, I pull us both up, and I take ahold of some shrubs before pulling us along the side until we come up to her car that’s lodged on its side like I had planned.