by S Doyle
“Chrissy, what are you drinking?”
“Diet Coke?” she said, holding up her red solo cup.
“Chrissy, another thing you should know about me. I’m not an idiot. What are you drinking?”
Ellie turned to her friend. “You’re drinking without me? That’s so not fair. It’s my birthday.”
Chrissy winced. Apparently she saw the selfishness of her actions. “Okay, so maybe this guy bought a shot of rum for me and put it in my drink. Okay… maybe there were like four shots.”
“Not cool.” I looked at my watch. “It’s after eleven. I don’t want to ruin your birthday or anything…”
“No. It’s fine. I’m getting kind of tired and my feet hurt in these boots.”
“Noooo,” Chrissy protested. “I think I’m in love.”
“Point him out, then go wait for me by the door.”
Ellie narrowed her eyes at me. “Jake, let it go. Chrissy was just being Chrissy. She probably asked for them.”
“A shot I let go. Maybe two. Not four, and knowing Chrissy, it was more like five. Which means some asshole is trying to get her drunk so he can take advantage of her. What do I always tell you?”
“Trust no one. Great motto by the way.”
“Trust no one. Never a guy and not with your drinks. It sucks that there are creeps out there in the world, but they exist and you have to watch for them. Now, hold on to her while I go deal. Chrissy, which one?”
Chrissy lifted her hand in the guy’s general direction. I saw who it was instantly, as he was staring at Chrissy. Not a good kind of stare either. He was waiting for the booze to do the trick.
It wasn’t until I was almost on him that he straightened up. When I got up close and could see the face under the cowboy hat, the motherfucker was easily over thirty.
“You like to feed underage girls drinks,” I said to him. It wasn’t a question.
The guy got his back up. “She asked for a drink, so I bought her one. Big deal.”
“Even though her wrist band clearly showed she was under legal age.”
“Whatever. Dude, I’ll move on if you’re upset.”
“What I am, is sickened by the thought a man almost, what… double her age… tried to get her drunk so he could do… What was the plan, anyway?”
“Dude, go fuck yourself. I was trying to have a little fun.”
I nodded like I was in agreement. “Yeah, I get it. No confidence. Or self-esteem. Or whatever it is you’re missing that makes you think a girl will only like you if she’s drunk. You’re a pathetic piece of shit and I’m sorry people refer to you as a man.”
“Fuck you, I can get any piece I want.”
I turned to the bartender. “I’ll take…” I turned and eyed up the guy. “Seven shots of Fireball.”
The bartender lined them up quickly in front of me and just poured through the glasses.
“You want to show me what a man you are? You fed the girl who is half your age and half your size four shots. Let’s see how you do after seven?”
The man grimaced. As if seeing the numbers made him realize exactly what he’d done. Or at least I hoped I made my point.
Then the man sneered. “Fuck you.”
“Dude, trust me. The only thing you’re going to be fucking tonight is your right hand. Have a solid jerk off, douchebag. Try not to think of me when you do.” I took one of shots and fired it down. “Yeah,” I drawled, “little pussy like you … you probably don’t want to drink those. Bartender, you want to pass those out to those pretty ladies in the corner and tell them I said to stay away from this guy?”
“Sure thing, bro.”
I made my way to the girls, where Ellie was talking to the bouncer and pointing back at the asshole.
He nodded. “Yeah, I know the guy. Comes here all the time on Under Twenty-One night. He’s an asshat. I’ll take care of it, honey.”
“Thanks, Bob.”
“Have a nice rest of your birthday.”
She beamed at the guy. “It was the best birthday ever!”
That made me happy. That I had given her a fun night.
I followed the girls to my truck as Chrissy bobbed and weaved from side to side.
“I’m still so pissed at you for not sharing,” Ellie was hissing at her.
“You know I can hear you, right?”
She turned and gave me her what-I’m-so-innocent smile.
And I wanted her.
Nope. Not a switch you can turn off.
We dropped drunk Chrissy off at home. It wasn’t pretty. After who knows how many shots, she was wasted. The good news was her parents were in bed, so it went down with little drama.
Ellie and I poured her through the front door, and she was on her own. Make it to her bedroom or bust.
Then we drove back to Ellie’s…her place…our place… my place?
I called it the house. Long Valley was the ranch. The house was the house. It wasn’t hers or ours. It was just the house. Not a home either. Which in some ways made me sad, but I was a guy and we typically don’t get sad. For myself I simply try to force it away.
Forcing away sadness was a lot like trying to force away desire. It wasn’t always easy. I had set the wrapped gift up on the kitchen island before we left for the bar. I wanted it to be the first thing she saw when we got home.
Ellie always poured herself a glass of water right before bed, so as soon as we got inside she made her way to the kitchen.
I heard the gasp and smiled.
I liked that I’d made her gasp.
I followed her into the kitchen and she was holding the box to her chest. Like it didn’t matter at all what was inside it. Hell, I probably could have wrapped an empty box and she would have been happy with that.
I liked that she was that kind of girl. The kind of girl who understood that it was truly the thought that counted.
“What is it?”
“Open it and find out.”
She started to tear through my very bad wrapping job. “Did you get me what I asked for?”
“You asked for a vibrator. No, I did not get you what you asked for.”
“The gift of pleasure, Jake. You shouldn’t mock it.”
She opened the lid on the box and slid out the Styrofoam. Then when she opened that, she gasped again.
Nestled inside was a beautiful silver scale. Two disks balanced on either side, and two containers with five silver disks in each. She set it up on the able and opened the silver disks. Holding one in her fingers.
“You’re always going on about your scale of one to ten…” I felt a little awkward. Because she wasn’t saying anything. Just looking at it thoughtfully, as if it were a puzzle to be solved instead of scale. “Figured now you had the actual physical representation of it.”
“I love it,” she said quietly. Then she turned to me. “You always give the best gifts.”
I nodded and waited for it. My hug. Every year I gave her a gift and every year she hugged me for it.
Not this year, apparently. Because instead of hugging me she was playing with the disks and putting them on the scale.
All ten on one side.
“Today,” she said.
That had to be enough, because it was all I was going to get.
“Good night, Jake.”
“Good night, Ellie. Happy Birthday.”
She got her water and went upstairs and I stood there like a statue for what was definitely too long, fighting off the disappointment that I didn’t get my hug.
Because it was all I would let myself have…I wanted it really badly.
Three
Ellie
June – Graduation day
I was not going to be disappointed. He told me he would do absolutely everything he could do to be here today, but he couldn’t control when the foal was going to come. That’s right, I forgot to say—we were having a baby.
Well, not us. We weren’t having a baby because we weren’t having sex. No sex at all for us.
No sirree Bob. I went to school and we worked really hard and we never ever considered having sex.
Jake didn’t, anyway. Me, not so much. I thought about it. A LOT!
A LOT!
Are you feeling me?
Anyway, Jake put Wyatt to stud on Isabella, who he’d bought just for that purpose, and now Isabella was due any moment. Javier and Gomez were back and living in the bunk house, but I knew Jake wanted to be there for the birth.
After all, this was his precious Wyatt who was about to become a father. Let’s face it. Jake was most definitely hoping for a boy that would one day fill Wyatt’s shoes when he was too old to carry Jake.
So I understood completely if he couldn’t make it to my graduation. It was a stupid thing anyway. Caps and gowns, long boring speeches, and then everyone having their name called out.
If he could make it, he was going to take me to dinner afterwards to celebrate and then we were going to go to Pete’s for drinks.
That’s right. I said we were going to Pete’s for drinks. It seemed as a high school graduate I was now mature enough to have a few beers.
If he couldn’t make it though, then plan B was to go out with Chrissy and her parents for dinner and then go with Chrissy to Pete’s.
Either way, Pete’s was happening. It was a Riverbend tradition that Pete officially started not caring about fake IDs once he knew you were no longer in high school. A bunch of kids from my class would be there tonight.
Then, if he could, Jake would meet me at Pete’s later.
Which was pretty much what it looked like was going to happen, because as I sat on the stage behind the principal and looked out over the crowd I didn’t see him anywhere. It wasn’t a large group. We were only a class of eighty-six, and since we all knew each other’s families it wasn’t hard to see who was here and who was not.
I noticed Bobby MacPherson’s dad was not. Just his mom. It almost—almost—made me feel for bad for him. I knew there was trouble there, and I knew Bobby had spent the last year basically being angry at the world.
He’d left me alone, so I shouldn’t have cared at all. I guess I knew what it was like not to have a parent in your life. His dad wasn’t dead, but sometimes it was harder if they chose to leave you.
For my dad there had been no choice. He’d be here now if he could be. I knew that. Or not. Because if he’d had a mare about to drop a foal, he probably would have told me the same thing as Jake.
I smiled and lifted my head to the ceiling of the auditorium and smiled at him and hoped somewhere in the universe he saw it.
Then, as we all stood for the Pledge of Allegiance, I saw him. He was jogging down the row of chairs, holding his tie against his chest. Still in his neatly pressed jeans, but he’d gone so far as to wear a tie and jacket.
He found an empty seat along the aisle and stood in front of it.
He looked up at the stage to find me, and when his eyes hit on me I waved.
He raised his chin and smiled.
He made it. To my graduation. Which meant we were going to get to have dinner and then he was going to take me to Pete’s.
I thought about my scale that I kept in full display on the kitchen counter, and mentally moved all my disks to the right side. (The right side was for good stuff. The left for bad.)
Then it occurred to me that Jake, just by being Jake, gave me a lot of ten days.
I was in my best dress. Blue with small white flowers all over it, a deep V in the front, and a wrap-around tie at my waist. I paired it with white wedges and I hoped, I thought, I looked anywhere as close to as nice as Jake did in his jacket and tie.
I mean, this wasn’t a Frank’s dinner. This was a real restaurant with cloth napkins and really nice silver and everything.
The Chop House was a legit steakhouse. It had taken us over an hour to drive here, but it was so worth it. I felt like… I mean, the whole thing had the feel of… a date.
Not that it was a date. It was my graduation dinner. Logically I knew that, but still I was going with it.
“You’re not eating,” Jake pointed out.
“I’m excited to see the baby.”
Jake smiled and it almost took my breath away. “Amazes me every time it happens. One minute I’m sliding this big ball of goo out, and the next it’s up on these little spindly legs, looking at them like what the heck am I supposed to do with these things?”
“I’m glad it worked out.”
“Me too. I would have been heartbroken thinking I missed your graduation.”
Heartbroken. Hmm. That was an odd word choice.
I cut into my steak and took another bite and closed my eyes it was so good. I must have made a noise too, because when I opened my eyes Jake was looking at me funny.
“It’s a steak, Ellie.”
“It’s a good steak, Jake.”
He smiled again, but a little tighter this time.
“And we still get to go to Pete’s after this.”
“Yes, I will happily buy you your first beer. Or wine. Or cooler. Whatever it is you drink.”
I shrugged. I didn’t know what I “drank”. Other than spiked punch and eggnog at Christmas, the only time I’d had a real drink was the day after the kiss… I meant the storm. The storm was the bigger event that day.
It burned my throat the whole way down.
The drink. Not the kiss.
“What if I like wine?”
“What of it?”
“You’re a beer guy.”
“So?”
Right. That was stupid. Just because he was a beer guy didn’t mean I needed to be a beer girl. It’s just that I always figured Jake would be the kind of guy to like hanging out with a girl who could sit back and drink beer with him.
Where a girl who drank wine he might consider snobby.
“What did Janet drink when you guys used to go out?”
He looked up at me like I was crazy. “Why are you asking about Janet?”
I shrugged. “I’m curious. When you guys went out, what did she drink?”
“She liked beer. Shots every once and a while, tequila. But mostly beer.”
See. Jake had previously been with a beer girl. I was drinking beer tonight no matter what.
He had a small smile around his mouth.
“What?” I asked.
“I think I always knew it,” he muttered.
“What?” I demanded.
“I think you’re a wine girl. I can feel it.”
“I’m not!” I insisted. Ridiculously. This was the stupidest conversation ever. And I was not the type of girl who drank something or ate something because the guy I was with liked the same thing.
It was horseshit. You were who you were, you liked what you liked.
“Okay, so maybe I am. I don’t know. We’ll have to wait and see tonight when I try both.”
“That’s fine. We’ll see. But I’m still going with wine.”
I had the urge to stick my tongue out at him, but we were in a really fancy place and I was an adult now so I resisted.
Beer was gross. Cold white wine was delicious. I hated that Jake was right, but as I said I wasn’t going to change what I liked to match what he liked. After all Jake loved blondes, and at best my hair could be called honey brown. It’s not like I was going to dye it.
Wait, should I dye it?
Ugh. Boys. They messed with my thinking. Or at least Jake did.
We were at Pete’s and I have to say it was a little strange. When we walked in a lot of my friends from high school were there, but I sort of stuck by Jake’s side. I didn’t want to leave him to hang by himself and, well… I didn’t want to leave him. We were having a really nice night hanging out together.
So when he asked me if I wanted to sit at the table with Chrissy and some of the other girls from school, I shook my head and we went to the bar instead.
I’d had my first beer, hated it. Now my first glass of wine, loving it and Jake was sipping on his beer.
“This is fun,” I said.
“Yeah. I knew hanging with you at Pete’s would be a trip.”
“You want to play pool?”
Jake’s eyes shot up. “You can play pool?”
No. But how hard could it be? You poked at the balls with a stick. I was fairly certain I could do that. “Sure.”
“Okay. What are we betting?”
“Wait, there are stakes in this?” I asked. This could be interesting.
“It’s the only way to make it fun.”
I ran through several scenarios in my head.
If I won, Jake had to have sex with me.
If I lost, I would have to have sex with Jake.
I was fairly certain he wouldn’t go for it.
I shook my head. “You decide.”
“Loser has to grocery shop for a month.”
Typical Jake. There was no sex in any of that. I huffed. “Fine. But if I lose, I’m buying everything you hate. Vegetables. Lots and lots of vegetables.”
“I don’t care. I still won’t be doing the shopping. Let’s go.”
He led me to the back of the bar where the pool table was. He put a dollar of quarters on the table and after the last group finished we were up. He allowed me to break, which I did and actually got one ball in. It was solid, so he was stripes. My second attempt was not so great, and then Jake took over and cleared the entire table.
Snickering… because there was no other word for it… the entire time.
Apparently Jake was good at pool. Sometimes it freaking seemed like Jake was good at everything.
And he was my husband. Mine.
“Best two out of three?” he offered.
“No thanks. You’ll have me doing the shopping, cooking, cleaning, and laundry. Not a chance.”
He laughed. “You want another glass of wine?”
“I can have one?”
“Yes, you can have one.”
“Then yes, my dear husband, I would love another glass of wine.”
“You’re a goof,” he said as he brushed by me, but I knew it was a compliment.
I was distracted by rolling the ball along the felt when I could feel someone approaching. I looked up to see Bobby MacPherson standing in front of me, and it probably showed on my face that I wasn’t thrilled to run into him because he started by raising his two hands in the air as a surrender.
