by Karina Sharp
Once everyone has a glass in hand, I clear my throat and declare, “A toast to Mexico!”
“And to Jack!” Lexie adds.
“To Mexico and Jack!” we all cheer, then complete the ritual.
I pretty much gulp down the entire thing in one drink, then turn my head to face Jack who is reclined just like me, body glistening in the Baja sun, and quip, “See? Toasts are always appropriate.”
Jack’s broad, defined shoulders and pecs move as he laughs silently and pats my thigh lightly with his fingers. I focus on the contact he’s making with my body and can’t deny the sensations I feel when he touches me. If you could turn those plasma globes you find in toy or science stores that have electrical currents moving in them which seem to move to where you touch them into a feeling, that’s exactly what this is. There’s a special heat or tingle in the places he touches me that seems to send a direct signal to my heart, and the feeling from our skin-to-skin contact lingers long after it’s over.
Thinking about what Lexie said, I decide to make an attempt to learn more about Jack. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”
Jack tilts his head questioningly, but gives a breezy smile and replies, “No. Your older brother (I think?) still work for the government?”
“Yep, older brother,” I respond. “He works for the CIA.” I see Jack’s lips begin to flatten and his brow wrinkle. “I’m not even kidding! I don’t know exactly what he does for them, but he lives in Washington D.C., and I know he works for them.”
“I bet that’s an interesting job.”
“Sure, I guess. I don’t really know. He could work in the mailroom for all I know.” I shrug. “Then again, he travels a lot for just a mailroom worker. And my dad would probably be pretty upset if, after sending him to an Ivy League school, he wound up simply sorting government mail, but who am I to judge?”
Jack takes a drink of his piña colada and places it on the table on the other side of his chaise. He laces his fingers together and places them behind his head, elbows out, exposing his biceps. I lick my lips and decide to continue with the distracting line of questioning, if only just to get my mind off of running my tongue in each crevasse that outlines his muscles.
“Are your parents originally from New England?”
He continues looking toward the clear sky. “Yup. Both born and raised there.”
I wait for him to give me more information, but it never comes. It’s like pulling teeth just trying to get the smallest bit of information from him.
“What were their occupations?”
Jack’s eyes move behind his reflective lenses to look in my direction with a what’s-with-the-third-degree look. A little embarrassed, I flash him a shy smile and direct my gaze away from him and up to the sky.
“My father is a businessman and my mother, a homemaker.”
That’s it? That’s all... What kind of business? Did you get your desire to go into business from him? Are they still together? Do you get along with them? A thousand questions sprint around in my head, but it’s futile to ask any more because with the speed and amount of elaboration in which he answers them, it would take a year just to find out basic information.
I begin to wonder why he doesn’t ask me anything about myself, when it occurs to me that I do most of the talking. In fact, I talk so much, he could probably ace a quiz about my entire life since I tend to put it out on a shiny platter for everyone to see, regardless of whether they want to or not. He’s a tough cookie to crumble, but I’m tougher. Surely… I consider finding out more information a challenge and one that I accept. I just have to wear him down, and I have the perfect plan of how I will do so.
“Another round?” I ask with a mischievous grin.
Chapter 4
Jack
“Drink up!” Journey tells me, handing me yet another shot glass. Rico looks at me and shakes his head both in apology and entertainment.
I can’t even begin to count the number of rounds we’ve had today. Man, can this girl hold her liquor... Just when I think she might be ready to slow down, she orders a round of something. I’ve had a good buzz going all day. Her friends had to slow down hours ago and even took a nap before getting ready to go out tonight.
After we down our shot, Journey returns to the dance floor, moving and shaking to the music. I don’t remember this place having much of a dance floor before I met Journey, but the party seems to follow wherever she goes, and there’s a huge dance space in this rustic bar because of it.
All day, she’s been asking many questions about me, which is not her usual style. She typically just chatters on about herself, and I interject with tidbits about myself here and there when we’re on a subject I don’t mind talking about. Her direct line of questioning is perplexing to me. Conversations between my friends and I don’t really involve much query. We say what we need to say, tell stories we feel like telling, and that’s about it.
My parents are also very private people. My father always told me that the more personal information someone knows about you, the more power they hold over you. I’ve been wise to be guarded and keep a very strong poker face in the business world as well as in my personal relationships. I’m an intelligent and educated man who realizes that intimate relationships require a little more than simply knowing a few facts about the other person, but I’ve shared more with Journey than I have with everyone else combined in my entire life, which is probably why I feel so connected to her.
I turn toward the bar’s entrance to find George, Marshall, and Hal weaving their way through the sweaty and tightly packed crowd and over to me.
“Hey, Brother,” George greets me, shaking my hand.
“Hey, Man,” I return his salutation. “Marshall, Hal- How was golf?”
“Pretty good, if you ask me,” Hal answers triumphantly.
“He got lucky,” Marshall adds. “I got stuck in the rough a few times, and that was it for me.”
“Where’s the redhead?” George asks, looking about the room.
I motion with my head over to the crowd of people. “Over there, dancing. If you look in the center of that sea of people, you’ll see a head of red hair bobbing around, lower than everyone else’s.”
George turns around to order drinks as Hal half whispers, “Damn, man. I think she’s even hotter this year than she was last year. She going to med school?”
“Yeah. Going to Berkeley.” I try to keep a massive smile from taking over my face as I brag. “It was the school she wanted, so she’s pretty happy.”
“Very cool. I’ll have to buy a round to celebrate.”
“Are her same friends here too?” Marshall inquires.
“Yeah, they’re all here.”
“Lexie’s the blonde one who’s a cheerleader with her, right?” Marshall passes me a drink.
“Thanks, and yes, they’re both cheerleaders. The other two are in their sorority, I think. They won the national championship this year.”
“I’m embarrassed that I already knew that.” Marshall gives me a sheepish look. I flash him a questioning look. “I was curious, okay? Did you know that their pictures are everywhere on the internet? Especially Journey’s since she’s always up in the air doing some contorted move.”
“I guess I’m not a creeper like you, because, no, I didn’t.” I hadn’t even thought to look for her on the internet, but it makes perfect sense. All universities have pictures of their athletic teams, especially if they win titles. Time to start a new hobby when I get back to New York…
“Then I guess I shouldn’t mention the videos,” Marshall chuckles.
Before I can respond sarcastically, a sweating and smiling Journey is moving toward us and my eyes are fixed on her. In fact, when my eyes scan the room, everyone who is not otherwise distracted is focused on her. For a woman who isn’t even five feet tall and probably barely a hundred pounds, she commands any room in a mammoth way. Ogling eyes travel with her movement which is directed straight at me. I can’t help but
broaden my chest, silently boasting because her attention is on me and, at least for the next few days, she belongs to me.
She stops when we are face to face, prompting me to put my hands around her waist and into the small of her back, pulling her into me.
She giggles and widens her eyes. “What’s that for?”
“Nothing, really. Just staking my claim.” I wink at her. “You having a good time?”
“Always.” Journey moves in closer to my ear. “You better be careful about touching me like that or we will have to go mess around in our usual spot the alley long before the sun is ready to set.”
I gaze back at her, very tempted to pull her into me and nibble on her ear, but I get lost in her deep, green eyes with gold flecks in them.
I am completely disorientated to location and time until Lexie’s voice quips, “It’s only day three. You have plenty of time to make goo-goo eyes at one another when you’re alone.” Lexie never makes eye contact. She looks beyond us, still speaking. “Hey guys, nice to see you all! Rico? Uno mas, por favor.”
“One more, coming right up!” Rico replies.
With a small smile, showing the natural and beautiful shape of her full lips, Journey winks back at me, then moves out of my hold.
“Guys! How great to see you! Have you had a good time thus far?”
“Eh, could be better,” Hal shrugs.
“Better now that you’re here,” Marshall adds.
Journey throws her head back and gives him her I’m-laughing-at-you-but-I’m-not-really-entertained-by-you laugh. It’s different from her courtesy laugh, but still somewhat disingenuous.
“Journey, it’s so nice to see you as always. I was afraid Jack here was going to lock you away and never let you come out to play.” George places his hand on my shoulder and shakes it. I play along with the gesture.
Journey raises an eyebrow. “How do you know it wasn’t I who had plans to sequester him the whole time?”
George lets out an uncomfortable laugh. “I guess I just assumed.”
“Oh, George… You must have heard, a few times at least, that when you assume, you make an ass out of u and me. Oh, that’s right...You make an ass of yourself all of the time.” George’s smile falls a few degrees until Journey mimics his gesture he just made with me, placing her hand on his shoulder. “Come on, Georgie boy, you know I was just kidding. It’s a banter we have, you and I.”
George’s smile picks back up. “You know me so well.”
“Good. Now that we’re all made up, I propose that you buy me a drink.”
“Motion seconded. Rico? A round of rattlesnakes, please.” George pulls out his black American Express credit card, placing it on the bar in an overt fashion.
George loves to flaunt his black AmEx card any time he can. While they are not common and only given out to people who meet certain financial requirements, I don’t see it as the status symbol that he does. I have one, but I tend to use it discreetly. Actually, I tend to use discretion with everything. Journey is about the only person who pulls me out of my shell. Aside from my few buddies here, with whom I grew up, I don’t have many friends. I tend to keep to myself and stay out of other’s business, keeping them out of mine. George tries to flaunt his family’s wealth, which truth be told is actually only a fraction of my family’s, but that’s the identity he’s built for himself. Personally, I’ve seen too many people used for their money, particularly my uncles.
Both of my mother’s brothers thought that they had found true love. They married very pretty women who had no money and fathered no children with them. Both women squandered their fortunes in different ways, and when they decided they had given my uncles enough of their time, they each divorced them, taking half of the money that was left with them as well as large payments of alimony. One of them learned his lesson, but the other did not. In his case, history repeated itself, and he became so depressed that he finally took his own life when I was twelve.
I’ve used his life as a lesson ever since.
Chapter 5
Jack
“Hey Jack...I like you,” Journey slurs out as she touches my chest with her index finger.
We have been getting along so well all week, I don’t want it to end. But, like every good party, it must come to an end. In two days, to be exact.
“I rather like you too.”
“I’m going to be a doctor,” she says as she stumbles into me.
I catch her arm before she can fall, and she looks up at me with her deep, green eyes, grinning. “You may have mentioned that earlier,” I smile.
“I did? I’m sorry.” Her smile falls.
“Did you have a drink I missed?”
“I don’t think so, but I seem to be very wasted.”
She does indeed. She went from zero to sloppy in about one drink, which is very odd.
“It may have been the tequila. It’s my nemss… My nememisss... It’s not my friend.”
“Let me walk you back to the condo.”
“You’re the boss!” She attempts to salute, but her hand misses her forehead, smacking her nose instead.
Journey tries to walk with my assistance, but she begins sinking more and more into the sand below her feet. I finally pick her up and cradle her in my arms. Her drunken smile looks up at me, and I still find it to be heartwarming. Then, her eyes gently close.
I continue walking along the path to the condo, when she wearily opens her eyes and says, “I once posed nekkid...in a magazine.”
“Really?” My smile is short-lived.
“Yuppers.” She attempts to lower her voice, but it comes out as a loud whisper. “I was in a nudie magazine, but that’s our secret. Shhh!” She places her finger to her lips and has one eye barely open.
My smile drops. Is she being serious? It’s not my place to tell her what she should or shouldn’t do, but she seemed like someone who was more level-headed than that.
“Are you mad at me now? I bet you are. Lots of people are going to be if they find out.” She lets out a squeak of a hiccup. “‘S’cuse me. I just wanted to do something reckless and fun, you know?”
“Are you sure it’s okay to have those kinds of pictures floating around out there, you know, with your career?”
“Jack, Jack, Jack… You don’t understand… It was before I met you. If anyone finds out, my daddy has money and can fix anything. That’s what daddies are for- to make sure you have everything you want and fix stuff. It can’t be much worse than the videos that were taken of me flashing the camera during summer vacation last year by that group that goes around and gets girls to do that stuff and sells it. I think I got a t-shirt though, so hey, I didn’t completely work for free.”
“I don’t know about that. At least those are more anonymous.”
“Eh… Life is too short. YOLO, baby!”
“I kind of feel that when YOLO was coined, it referred more to living life to the fullest and not so much making careless decisions.”
Journey stirs a little, pumping her fist into the air, causing locks of hair to fall into her face. She sticks out her bottom lip and blows, attempting to move the hair out of her way, but she just blows it up and it falls right back again. I brush it out of her face and she grins at me with glassy, hollow eyes.
Now I feel like a wet blanket. I don’t want to be the guy who tells her she’s made some poor decisions, but she has. She’s alluded to the fact that her parents have some money, but this spoiled, rich-kid persona is one she’s never shown me. She’s always seemed to be humble and wise.
We make it back to the condo, but not without a great deal of effort. I’ve never seen Journey this torn up, and I’ve seen her drink far more than her little body should be able to hold yet still manage to keep up with conversations and help others navigate the beach. Journey kicks up one foot, causing her sandal to fly high into the air then land on the floor with a loud thud. She attempts to kick the next one, but I stop her leg from thrusting into the air with my hand.
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br /> “Let me get that for you.” I slide her other sandal off of her foot and drop it onto the floor next to the bed.
“I feel like Cinderella. And you’re my Prince Charming. No, my Prince Artichoke.” I have no idea what she means by that, but she’s very cute, even completely snookered like this.
“That’s very sweet. Now, let’s get you into bed.”
“Okay,” she sings. “Will you come to bed with me?”
“It’s a little early, but sure.”
Journey keeps her eyes closed, but gives me a big smile. She weighs practically nothing, so it doesn’t take any effort to put her on the bed and cover her.
Just as I am about to tell her that I am going to go to the restroom and will be back, George knocks on the door. “Hey, man. Hal was looking for you back at the bar. Something about you giving him a lift...”
“Oh, shit!” I look back to Journey, who is already passed out on the bed. “She’s not really-”
George raises his hands in front of him, stopping me. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll go take care of him.”
“That would be great. I really don’t want her to be left alone. Thanks so much.”
“No problem.”
I look over to the petite, red-headed girl, who is now sleeping soundly sideways on the bed.
Brushing her hair to the side of her face, admiring her smooth skin, I whisper, “I wish I was the only person who ever got to see all of your beautiful body ever again.”
A groan is released from her mouth as she stirs slightly. I guess that’s all I’m going to get for now.
“Take care of her,” George calls out as he leaves.
“I will.”
***
I was planning to have a good, serious, and intimate talk about our relationship last night with Journey, but she wound up getting a little too drunk to do so. Perhaps it was for the best. I don’t know that she feels a pull as strongly toward me as I do to her. Our chemistry is undeniable, and she breathes life into me, but do I really know what I’m getting with her? Are feelings you experience when you’re on vacation heightened to make you feel things that wouldn’t be there in another context? All week, she chipped away at my hardened exterior, little by little, and I was grateful for her patience, but I wish I had more impact on her life.
