My Coyote Ugly Life

by Jessica Spoon

  She then breaks down into such loud laughter that she begins to look like a retarded seal.

  I look at Kota, who is watching Malia with an unimpressed look, “Would you cut her off?” I ask.

  “I’ll cut you off!” Malia slurs between giggles.

  “I really don’t know what to say,” Kota looks at me. “That’s just pathetic.” She looks back at Malia, “You’ve had two drinks! When did you become such a lightweight?”

  Malia, meanwhile, is now laughing so hard she can barely breathe.

  “Okay, I think that’s enough,” I stand up to pull her glass from her when she starts to tilt. “She’s going down!” I yell. Kota and I both jump towards her, me catching the glass before the dregs of it land on my beige couch and Kota catching Malia before she knock herself out on my coffee table.

  Kota lays, a now passed out, Malia on her stomach on the couch.

  “Well,” I look down at her, face pressing into the couch cushion, “at least we got the important shit out of the way first.”

  “Yeah,” Kota agrees and follows me into the kitchen. “I’m really sorry about not telling you everything that went down when Ryder left,” she apologizes.

  “Thanks,” I tell her after setting the glasses in the sink.

  “It’s just… I didn’t even know how to deal with it. Especially then. I mean, how is a seventeen year old girl supposed to deal with the responsibility of a child? Not to mention everything that happened afterward.”

  “I know,” I pull her into my arms. “I understand now. I just felt so caught off guard by the fact that he was in town and you didn’t tell me. But, I get it now. What I don’t get… is why you never told him?”

  “God, Ree, it’s so complicated,” she takes a step back and leans against the counter. “He had already broken up with me and like I said earlier, I didn’t want to ‘trap’ him into being with me. He clearly had other plans for his life and I wasn’t going to tell him and have him feel responsible and resent me for it and eventually leave me, like his dad did to him and Josie.”

  “I know. I just hate that you’ve been dealing with this all by yourself.”

  “It has sucked. And I wouldn’t have told Malia if he hadn’t come back to town. I was doing fine, better… until he came back. I don’t get why he did. He should have stayed away…” she looks to the side and her eyes unfocus.

  “Okay, Ginger,” I smile at her. She looks back at me and rolls her eyes. “Just… no more secrets, okay?”

  “Agreed,” she nods.

  I walk out to my utility room and grab the trash can from there. I hold it up as I walk past Kota, “In case Miss I-Can-Drink-Ten-of-Your-Margaritas decides to vomit on my carpet,” I tell her and set it down on the floor next to Malia.

  “She really needs to up her game if she thinks we’ll let her continue to run with us,” Kota jokes.

  “Totally,” I agree. “Okay, you can have one of the spare rooms. I’m out for the night,” I tell her, making my way around the house to lock it up.

  “Got a toothbrush?” she smirks at me.

  I flip her off and walk down the hall to my room. I instantly regret making the mistake of giving her and Malia all the juicy details of Grayson and I. Including his first night here.

  ***

  The next morning I wake up and get dressed in a pair of skinny jeans, a loose teal tank that has a large grey heart across the entire front and side of it. I slip on a pair of black heeled ankle boots to class up my look and pile on the accessories.

  I’m feeling very retro chic today.

  I head out of the house and meet Grayson for coffee at The Grind. We get our coffee for free without even having to divulge any deets.

  “Honey, you two coming in here is enough!” Mrs. Dunson exclaims before I even get a chance to tell her anything.

  “What’s that all about?” Grayson asks as he leads me to a corner table in the place.

  “I made a deal with her that I’d tell her what was going on between us in exchange for free coffee,” I explain and take a drink of my cinnamon latte. So good.

  “You what?” Grayson tries to hide his smile.

  “What can I say?” I shrug. “Mrs. Dunson would be an excellent interrogator,” I look up at him. “You should probably think about hiring her. She could just make coffee for your perps. Get ‘em good and addicted to it and then withhold it until they give you the information you need.”

  “Perps?” his lips quirk up.

  “I’m telling ya, they’d roll over quicker than Lisa Henley did for the high school quarter back in eleventh grade.”

  “Really?” his eyes go lazy as he studies me.

  “Seriously, Chief,” I nod my head, “you really should look into this. I’ve got a lot of ideas. Stick with me, kid, I’ll show ya the ropes.”

  “I think anyone we’d be interrogating would be able to take it,” he moves a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers lingering on my neck and causing goosebumps to raise on my skin.

  I lose track of my train of thought. His hand gently caressing against my neck… his body leaned into mine… his scent all around me… and those amazing caramel eyes staring into mine with a look of pure possession. A look that says he knows me intimately and wants to explore me further.

  “So…” I breathe out, completely lost in his gaze, “will I see you tonight?”

  His smile deepens, “I’m sure as hell gonna try, babe.”

  “Good…”

  “I’ve gotta get to work,” he whispers, his lips brushing against mine.

  “Okay…” my eyes flicker from his eyes to his mouth.

  He leans in and swipes his tongue inside quickly, “I’ve gotta go,” he says again.

  “Okay…” I press closer.

  He presses his lips against mine more firmly, his hand fisting in my hair.

  “I’ll call ya later,” he says quietly after the shortest and most effective kiss I’ve ever experienced.

  “Okay…”

  Apparently I’m not capable of using any other word now…

  He smiles, presses his lips to mine again then gets up and walks out.

  “Free coffee the rest of the week girlie!” I look up to see Mrs. Dunson (and a few other female patrons) fanning herself.

  I smile to cover the blush that colors my cheeks and take a drink of my latte.

  Grayson wasn’t able to come over that night. He had called after lunch and said that he was going to be at work late.

  I asked him when Belton became so crime driven and responded with “You’re a nut.”

  I don’t know what was so nutty about that, but whatever.

  Rather than sit at home and wallow I decided to go out. I called Kota and she met me at Uncle Sal’s.

  Uncle Sal’s is the main bar in town. It’s owned by Joe Hall and he opened it up about twenty years ago. He named it after his late Uncle Sal.

  Pretty creative, huh?

  Uncle Sal’s is the place to go in Belton.

  There’s another bar in town, closer to the outskirts, but no one really goes there.

  I always used to drink here as a minor because Joe is way cool. Plus he thought it would be fun to see how I would get out of the trouble an ‘intoxicated Azaria Gable is sure to find herself in’.

  I never had to worry about the cops showing up because Joe reserved the right to refuse to service to anyone. And that pretty much just entailed the Belton Police Department, unless they were there in an official capacity.

  Brielle Reiner, the girl who bought Crazy Hilda’s flower shop, was there as well.

  Although… she wasn’t so much there as she was dropping off some flowers for someone and I convinced her that we needed to get to know each other.

  I learned a few things about Brielle Reiner…

  One: Brielle Reiner is not as innocent as she looks. She has this really pure looking face with long blonde hair that she straightens with perfect precision. Her cornflower blue eyes light up her whole face an
d she has this amazingly sweet persona.

  But, she has a wild child living insider her.

  Two: the girl loves shoes! Seriously. She informed me she has over two hundred pair!

  This then led to me inducting her into the bestie club and Club Code clearly states that all shoes must be shared between all besties (since we also discovered we wear the same size). She agreed whole heartedly, which led me to upgrade her to Bestest New Bestie ever.

  This was after cocktail six.

  After cocktail eight I learned that Brielle is a party animal!

  This was learned by her, Kota and I cutting up a rug on the dance floor.

  This was good as we all desperately needed to sober up a bit.

  At this point I looked to the door to see Grayson walk in.

  This was where I learned… I wasn’t that sober.

  “Hey baby!” I called to him. “Come dance with us!”

  He smiled before dropping his head and shaking it, while making his way over to us.

  Once he reached our Circle of Dancedom, he placed a hand on my waist and leaned into me and whispered in my ear, “Hey baby. Ready to go?” His voice sent a thrill through me. As low as it was, I could still hear it clear as bell even over the jukebox blaring out a great Eagles tune: Witchy Woman.

  “Okay…” I whispered back, my body tilting into his. His hand around my waist became an arm around my waist and he turned us to look at Brielle and Kota. Brielle, I noticed, was stuck in a daze staring up at him.

  I can’t blame her really (around cocktail four I shared all that is Grayson Cole with her).

  “Grab your things,” he tells them, “I’m your ride.”

  “Awesome!” Kota pumps a fist into the air and runs after our things.

  I lean forward and place my hand on Brielle’s arm, making her jump and look at me, “It’s okay. You’ll get used to it,” I comfort her.

  She nods in quick jerks as she looks back up at Grayson.

  “Here you go, B!” Kota says handing us our things and pulling Brielle out of her daze.

  We also had the amazing idea to shorten Brielle’s name to just the letter ‘B’.

  You know, because that’s never been done before.

  Unfortunately for Grayson he had to help all of our drunk asses crawl up into his truck.

  “Jesus, you ladies are blitzed,” he shook his head, putting the truck in reverse.

  “Well!” I huffed. “If your truck wasn’t so high up it wouldn’t be a problem. And I know you were looking up my skirt!” I scolded him.

  “Babe,” he looked at me with a raised brow and a smile.

  “What?” I gave him my best annoyed bitchy look.

  “You’re wearing jeans.”

  I looked down at my legs. “Oh.” Well, now I feel like an idiot. “Whatever,” I wave my hand at him.

  “You’re a nut,” he laughed grabbing my hand and pressing it to his lips for a kiss.

  Kota and B’s sighs could be heard from the back seat.

  “Oh, please don’t encourage him,” I begged.

  We dropped B off first, then Kota before heading home. Where Grayson had to unlock the door because my door unlocker thingy wouldn’t fit in the key hole thing.

  “It’s possessed!” I cried. “It’s trying to keep me from entering my own home.”

  By this point Grayson learned to just let me rant without trying to reason with me.

  Once inside the foyer I spun around waving my hand at Grayson’s crotch, “Chief! Pants off! I plan to have my wicked way with you! Meet me in ten minutes.”

  I scurried off down the hall to my room where I stumbled into the closet and after a few attempts finally managed to slip into my black lace teddy. I walked out to make my way to the bathroom, but stumbled over the ottoman at the foot of the bed, causing me to face plant in the mattress.

  Wow, I have the most comfortable bed in the history of forever beds, was my last thought before I promptly passed out.

  ***

  “Fuck, babe. You are so sexy,” Grayson murmurs in my ear, his hand between my legs.

  I let out a low moan and circle my hips.

  What a way to wake up…

  “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are?” he kisses my neck.

  “No…” I breathe out.

  “Do you have any idea how hard it was not to rip this thing off of you last night?” he swirls his fingers then slides inside of me.

  My body locks into place and my stomach knots.

  “No…” I tilt my head down, my voice firm.

  “Ree…?” he stops his hand.

  “I’m so sorry,” I rush out of the bed, as saliva fills my mouth, and scurry to my bathroom.

  I make it just in time to expel last night’s buffet of fried pickles, cheese balls and onion rings into the toilet.

  I feel Grayson come into the bathroom and stand behind me.

  He pulls my hair back out of my face, “Baby…” he says softly, a smile in his voice.

  “Go,” I heave into the toilet again, “away.” Another heave. “Don’t want you,” I heave again this time producing nothing and lay my forehead on the toilet lid, “to see me like this,” I finish.

  Grayson moves away from me and I hear the sink turn on. A moment later he is pressing a cool washcloth against my neck.

  So good.

  “Ree,” he’s holding back laughter.

  “Don’t you dare laugh at me Grayson Cole,” I look up and glare at him. “That was the best wakeup call I’ve ever had and it was ruined!” I whine.

  “Another time,” he tells me, kisses my temple and walks out of the room. “I’ll start the coffee.”

  “Good idea,” I mumble.

  I manage to pull myself together enough to brush my teeth, shower and change into a pair of white capris paired with an asymmetrical pink and white striped flowing tank top.

  I walk out of my room and into the kitchen where I’m stopped in my tracks at the sight of Grayson standing at the counter reading the paper.

  He’s wearing nothing but a pair of blue and black plaid pajama bottoms. His chest on full display.

  I’ve seen it, of course, just never in the bright early light of the morning.

  On full display.

  For me to just ogle at my leisure.

  It is gloriously defined; every muscle standing out, but not bulky. He’s not lean, just… not huge. There is a small patch of light hair between his pec’s, that I know from experience, feels spectacular through my fingers.

  I shake out of my daze (just in time before I start drooling) when my stomach knots and cries out for relief.

  I head the refrigerator for my saving grace.

  I reach in a pull out the jug of milk, twist the cap off and put it straight to my mouth, chugging back nearly half of the gallon. I pull it from my lips and wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. I look at Grayson, who is staring at me with an appalled look on his face.

  “You trying to throw up again?” he asks me.

  “No,” I shrug and put the milk back in the fridge. “Milk is my go-to hangover cure,” I explain to him.

  He blinks and shakes his head before turning back to the paper and taking a sip of his coffee. I pour myself a cup and add cream and sugar then head out to the back patio, taking a seat on the couch.

  A few moments later Grayson comes out and sits next to me, lifting my feet up and putting them on his lap where he begins to rub my feet.

  “Oh god…” I groan, “you’re amazing.”

  He gives me a wicked smile that makes my stomach flip and my nipples get hard before he slowly slides his hand up the inside of my thigh.

  “Chief…” I whisper.

  “Perhaps,” he leans toward me, takes my coffee from me, setting it down on the floor and begins to kiss my neck, “we can still salvage the morning.”

  His hand keeps moving up until it is under my blouse and pulling my bra cup down. He flicks and rolls my nipple with his phenomenally talen
ted fingers. I lift my hand and run my fingers through his short hair holding him to me.

  “Yes…” I moan.

  “Ree!” I hear from inside the house, making both of us freeze.

  “Are you fucking kidding me,” Grayson grinds out lifting his head to look at me.

  His caramel eyes still hold a hint of desire through the irritation making my ‘gina quiver with need.

  It’s been two days people!

  My ‘gina has a mind of its own when it comes to Chief Grayson Cole. (A mind I generally tend to agree with.)

  “Ree!” We hear yelled again.

  “Out here Mom!” I call back.

  “Christ, babe,” Grayson sits up straight and sticks his finger in his ear wiggling it around, “warn me next time would ya?”

  I smile at him and pick my coffee back up just as Mom comes out the door, dressed in a pair of jeans and a coral sleeveless crepe blouse.

  “Oh,” she says surprised, “sorry to interrupt.”

  “What’s up Mom?” I smile behind my mug.

  “Grayson, I’m glad you’re here,” she says sitting down.

  Grayson leans back and begins to rub my feet again.

  The way he does it is almost reactive. Like it’s something he’s done every day forever and will continue to do it forever.

  “Hello Sandra,” he says to her.

  “I need to know what you need me to bring for the barbeque,” she asks him, all business.

  I roll my eyes.

  “Whatever you want to bring,” he answers.

  “Well,” she crosses her legs and leans back in the chair, “I need to know what you have so I know what to bring,” she explains with the patience of a mother that is used to dealing with children that are unable to comprehend the behind the scenes action it takes to run a successful public soirée.

  He smiles at her, “I have the meat. If you want any side dishes or desserts that would be a good thing to bring.”

  “Perfect,” she breathes out, her eyes glazing over with the endless possibilities.

  “Mom,” I call her attention. She looks at me impatiently, “Don’t go overboard, though.”

  “Of course not,” she says offended.

  “Okay,” I draw the word out sarcastically.