Manbuns & Martinis (Drinking #1.5)

by R. L. Griffin

  “Yes, sir.” She smiles at him, he winks at her. “Is there anything else I can help you two gentlemen with?”

  “No ma’am,” I answer before Duncan could say something sexual.

  We walk over to the elevators with our rolling suitcases and my sigh echoes off the marbles floors. My shoulders are tight with tension.

  All of a sudden a scream cuts through the silence of the elegant hotel and a group of women are pointing at Duncan and me. I step into the elevator and Duncan smiles and waves before he steps in after me. Thankfully the doors close as I see an Ellisland shirt appear.

  “Fuck, I’m not in the mood,” I whine. I don’t really whine, but maybe I complain.

  “You better get in the fucking mood, dude. I know you weren’t paid to come here and be a dick.”

  “I can do ‘not a dick’.”

  “I’m not sure I’ve seen you so twisted up before…” Duncan starts.

  “I’m not…”

  “Yep, twisted in knots about a girl. You.” Duncan smirks. “You’re such an idiot. Of course Mad wants to be exclusive with you, but she wants you to say it. You don’t want her with other people. You just left. You aren’t going to fight for her?”

  The elevator doors open and we walk down the length of the hall until we get to our room. I open the door and walk in. Yes, I’m just going to pretend he didn’t accuse me of being a coward. I’m not a coward, I just don’t know how to do this with Mad, we’ve been one way for so long I don’t know if it’ll work a different way. “No wonder Megan said this hotel was awesome. Where are our cookies?”

  “Fuck cookies we can’t eat shit until tomorrow night. What are we going to eat? I’m fucking starving. Right now when I see hot women I don’t really care, all I want is a big hoagie with eight different meats and cheeses.”

  “I want barbeque,” I add.

  “I want pizza.”

  “I want cookies.”

  I snap a picture of us in the room and post it. I caption it “About to hit the gym before the meet and greet. Even out of town gotta bust your ass.” Comments pop up and Duncan starts laughing.

  “Dude, your fans are crazy. Who’s that one chick who always asks you to marry her?”

  “I don’t know her personally.”

  “Anytime you tag me in a picture there are guys that ask if we’re gay, it’s weird.”

  “All of the comments are weird. Someone asked how much I would charge to take her to prom.”

  “That’s fucked. I don’t really look through the comments.”

  “You don’t?” I asked. “I can’t help myself.”

  As we change into our gym clothes I check the comments.

  “I’ll see you in a bit.” @ellisland1

  “I’m so jealous of everyone in Nashville.” @cherrylovers19

  “You guys are so hot. I think you’re gay. Let’s date.” @petelove

  “Are you at the Hermitage?” @readingwhore

  “Marry me.” @ellisland69

  “Let’s go work out before we order room service and our six packs are no packs.”

  We lift some weights in the small gym, but then some women come into the gym and start taking pictures. I sigh. I know this shouldn’t be annoying, it’s really flattering, but I’m in a pissy mood and just want to lift shit. That’s what I get for posting that we’d be in the gym. I’d rather throw shit, but lifting makes me feel better when I can’t throw stuff. Then I want to run until I stop thinking about how Mad’s body arched against me and I can make her come in one flick of my tongue.

  I look at my phone and she hasn’t even texted me. It’s killing me. I feel like I can’t breathe without her. It’s like I finally realize what a jackass I’ve been, now that it’s out of my hands. Why do we realize things too late when you lose someone that’s important. I just trusted she would always be there for me. Now it’s clear she won’t.

  I motion to Duncan who is flexing for all the women. “I’m going for a run. Hey ladies. Can’t wait to see y’all tonight,” I add cheerfully. Then I throw both of my arms up into a pose and they all take pics of me that will be all over social media before the time I exit the gym. I smirk and wave as I leave Duncan pulling up his shirt showing his abs.

  I take the elevator down to the lobby and run into Amelia. She smiles at me and waves as we meet in the middle of the steps.

  “Hey, thanks so much for bringing me. I’ve never been to Nashville before. I’d hug you, but I’m sweaty.”

  “Oh, that’s okay.” She puts her arms around me in a friendly embrace. I’ve done two other events with her and she’s a breeze to work with, plus she’s super smart, which I like. “So did you finish the book?”

  “Of course,” I answer. “I read it on the plane and think your second book is better than the first.”

  “Oh, thank you so much Ellis. You know you’re one of the only models that reads the books they are on.”

  “I only read some of them…” I smile as I pull my headphones off my neck.

  “So, a custom shoot with Travis later?” She reminds me.

  “Yep. Before the signing right?”

  I ask because I’m going to start eating immediately after the signing and not stop until they have to roll me out of the restaurant. We all have goals, right?

  “Yep, I rode here with Danny on his bike so you can use it in the shoot. Leather jacket, no shirt, big dick...all that.”

  “I can do that,” I laugh. “It’s all abs and dick to y’all.”

  “Damn straight,” she laughs too and twists her blonde curls into a knot on her head. Her red glasses frame her brown eyes and make her look young. Her husband waves at me as he walks over from the doors.

  I shake his hand. “Hey, man. Good to see you again.”

  “You too, Ellis.”

  “I’m just headed out for a run. Do you want me to meet y’all early for the meet and greet or just in the conference room?”

  “It’s up to you, if you want some protection from the masses you can walk in with us,” Danny chuckles as he answers.

  My phone buzzes. “Thanks, I’ll text you.”

  I jog down the stairs and answer the phone. “Sunshine.”

  “Meat. How the hell are you?”

  I pause, trying to figure out if I want to talk about Mad.

  “Meat, you okay? You’re at your signing right? How are all the old vaginas?”

  I laugh. “You’re such an asshole.”

  “Takes one to know one,” she comes right back at me.

  “So, I was about to take a run,” I say.

  “You can call me back.”

  “Can I ask you something?”

  “Of course, we’ve had dirty, awesome sex, you can ask me anything.”

  “Your fiancé know you talk like that to me?”

  “Fuck no, he’d ban our conversations.”

  At least she’s honest.

  “So you know that girl that I told you about?”

  “Fallback?”

  Ugh. That’s how I described Mad to Megan. My fallback. I hate that term now even though that’s how I’ve always treated her.

  “I mean…”

  “She’s no longer available for that position?” Megan guesses.

  “Right.”

  “You’re heartbroken, because you really love her, but don’t want to take that step.”

  “Well, I don’t…” How does she do that?

  “Stop right there, fuck up. No girl, especially the girl you described, who’s got her own career and life, wants to be a fucking fallback. You must know that right?”

  I don’t say anything.

  “She’s gorgeous from what I’ve seen. She’s smart. What else?”

  I walk a few steps thinking. “I miss her and it’s only been a few hours.”

  “And…”

  “She told me last night, with my pants around my ankles after fucking, that she had sex with someone else.”

  “So,” Megan comments.

 
; “Well, I thought that was fucked up.”

  “Really? You think it was fucked up when you did it?”

  I have no words. “But I didn’t…”

  “You think about her while you were fucking other people, me not included, because that was soooooo different…” She’s cheerfully sarcastic this afternoon.

  “I didn’t tell her about fucking other people.”

  “Oh my God, are you serious Meat?”

  I really don’t know what she means.

  “You’re only mad because she told you then?”

  I don’t think I know the answer to this question.

  “So, she could be fucking a million guys and you just don’t want to know about it?” She’s using a condescending tone.

  “No,” I answer immediately.

  “Okay...dick. Then tell her you want her to only fuck you. It’s not hard.” She talks slow like I’m a child. Why do people keep doing that?

  “Hey Sunshine, be gentle with me. It is hard...for me. She’s been my one constant, the one that supported me no matter what.” I’m remembering her at the hospital when I was injured. She saw me cry when they told me I’d never play again. Mad was the one who called my sister and dad to tell them the news. She’s my family.

  “I hear you thinking, tell me.”

  “I’m afraid I’ll fuck it up.” I can be honest with her and it’s okay. She doesn’t judge me.

  “Aren’t we all afraid to fuck it up?” she asks casually.

  “But I can’t lose her.”

  “But you already did.”

  I’ve always enjoyed this part of being a cover model. The part where you hang with the authors and they tell you how they came up with the character you’re supposed to be, but it’s hard. I know, you think I’m whining. I’m not, I’m just being honest. It’s hard because sometimes women are weird and I say that with the utmost respect, but I’m twenty-three. I’m happy you’re excited to see me, I’ll even take off my shirt, you can touch my abs or my ass, but good god we’re not going to be fucking.

  The signing went by in a blur. Countless handshakes, hugs and pictures, my face hurts from smiling and my head hurts from small talk. Duncan and I walk in a daze back to the elevators with Megan’s voice ringing in my ear. “But you already have.” I can’t wrap my brain around the fact that I’ve lost her, but I guess I did.

  I’m currently shoving chocolate chip cookies in my mouth. Ladies, you aren’t the only ones who eat for comfort. I lost my girl...chocolate and alcohol will work for me. I think I’d like pizza and french fries too. I need to eat so I can at least have rational thoughts.

  “So how was your table? Mine wasn’t too bad, signed books, hung out with some authors. Oh, I saw Leather Pants. She said to tell you hey and if you want to meet up later that was cool. I told her you’d grown a vagina.”

  “If I had a vagina, I’d masturbate constantly.” I shove another cookie in my mouth.

  “Would you?” Duncan laughs. “How is jerking off and masturbating with a vagina different?”

  “I don’t know it just seems better,” I say with my mouth full of cookies.

  “I had a lady who smelled like fried ass put her number in my back pocket.”

  I spit cookies across the elevator as the doors open. “What in the actual fuck does fried ass smell like?”

  He shrugs. “You’d know it if you smelled it.”

  We walk toward our room and the other elevator opens and a group of women pour out. I smile and try to swallow all the cookies in my mouth.

  “Hey ladies,” Duncan drawls.

  “Hey Ellis, Duncan.”

  “We’ll see y’all at the after-party?” Duncan asks.

  “Yes, you will,” one of the women answers.

  We haul ass down the hall so that we can get into the safety of our room. Here’s the thing, we love the women that read the books with us on the cover, but some of them can be a little over zealous. In Vegas, Duncan had women banging on his door at 4:00 am because they found out what room we were in, like he’d open the door nude and tell her how beautiful she was and they’d create their own romance novel. I mean some of us are that awesome, but not most of us. We have other things we do to make a living, unlike the books we adorn we’re not billionaires. Almost all of us are very full of ourselves, not me, of course, but most because it takes a lot of work to be this good looking. I know I can already see your brow furrowing, but getting a six pack takes dedication and drive and lack of food, but you telling us how good we look feeds our needy egos and it’s really just a vicious circle.

  Once we get in our room, I fall into the couch and shove another cookie in my mouth. I just ate an entire day’s worth of calories in the last five minutes. I sigh in bliss. I look at my phone and it’s blowing up with people tagging me on social media. I pull over twenty pieces of paper out of my pockets that have room numbers and phone numbers on them of women I’ll never call. I put a few room keys on the table.

  I take a picture of the keys and scraps of paper with the caption “Decisions, decisions.” I hit post before I think about it. It’s stupid. It’s immature. It’s aimed directly at the person who left me. I look at my phone hoping to get a text in all caps from Mad. I need that message from her. I depend on that message to allow my heart to keep beating.

  This all seems very dramatic, I know, but this is our pattern. We feed off each other and the worst thing I can imagine is if she doesn’t care. I need her to care.

  “I’m fucking toast dude,” I comment as Duncan puts a pillow over his face on the bed.

  “It’s exhausting being charming and not offended at the same time.” His voice is muffled.

  “It is exhausting especially with no food in your system. Amelia and Danny said they’d take us to dinner. I told them unless it was an all you can eat place they’d need to use a black credit card.”

  Duncan laughs and sits up. “Oh, that reminds me. How was the shoot today?”

  “Fine. We got some really nice shots of the jacket, abs and crotch of the jeans she brought. My dick filled it out well.”

  “I’m sure,” Duncan says. “What do you think is more important, dick or abs?” He clutches the pillow to his chest, like this is the most important question he’d ever asked. “My pictures aren’t moving lately. Charlie said it’s because book sales are bad. I need to figure something else out.”

  “Do you think it’s because you’ve become that alien guy?”

  He blinks. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean that everyone in the entire industry thinks you’re that character. Can you be on other covers now without the author getting flack for using the alien guy?”

  He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. “I’ve never even thought about that.”

  “I don’t know. I’m just thinking out loud. Everyone in your line today had those books, right?”

  “A few others,” he admits.

  “How many covers have you been on in the last year?” I am scrolling through my Instagram account. The comments to my last post range the gamut of my emotions.

  “You’re the biggest dick.” @shellybiceps33

  “Marry Me.” @ellisland69

  “Pick me.” @bookwhore101

  “I hope your penis falls off.” @rachelhollis

  I sigh and wonder if I should delete it.

  “I had five this year, six last year.”

  “I think if one of these hit big, people get tired of you, don’t you?”

  He blinks at me. “I can’t…” He closes his eyes.

  “Dude…” I start.

  We’re always hustling, trying to scrape together savings so that we could start our own gym. Panic is starting and it’s evident on his face. On weekdays in between trainings and his shifts and my paint jobs, we ride around and scope out locations. I’ve saved about seventeen thousand dollars, Duncan has about five thousand. It’s not much, but it’s a start. We’re in this together.

  “You know, you should
look into being a narrator for books,” I offer.

  “What do you mean?” he asks intrigued.

  “Well, you have a good voice, not too southern, and a lot of authors are trying to get their books on audio so people can listen to them too.” One of the authors during the signing was talking about the lack of good male voices.

  “Really?” He perks up a bit and the spiral in his brain stops.

  I pick up Amelia’s book and flip to a random page. “I push my dick inside her and I still, not wanting to come too soon,” I read.

  “Wait, that’s in a book?” Duncan pushes himself off the bed and comes over to where I’m sitting on the couch.

  “You don’t read anything you’re on the cover of?” I guess I know this, but it just seems common sense to me to know what sort of books your face graces...or abs...or dick.

  He shakes his head and grabs the book from my hands. “Her eyes pierce me and I know this will be different than any other time we’ve fucked. We’re making love this time…” he reads and then laughs. “People read this shit?”

  “People love this shit.”

  “We’re making love this time,” he repeats in a voice intending to be sexy.

  “You need to work on your sexy voice,” I comment. “Women love the fantasy of these guys. They’re the bad guys women can change into adoring lap dogs, but they’ll beat people’s ass to protect their girl. The women are so hot, men pursue them, spank them, but not too much, and then they get married. The women still stay slutty for their men and men change their entire personality.”

  “Super realistic,” Duncan quips.

  “Nobody reads romance for realism.”

  I turn the book over in my hands and I see a text. I open it, but it’s only from Megan.

  Delete your last instagram picture. I can’t even with you…

  I go to Instagram and delete the picture with fifty-two comments.

  “Every man in these books have foot long dicks that can fuck women all night. They have six-pack abs, but take their women out to dinner and eat real food, which you and I know isn’t fucking true. Also, they’re all billionaires in their twenties that are hot. Sometimes they ride motorcycles.”

  “All of our friends are like this,” Duncan jokes.

  “Do you think people would want to read the story about dudes that are broke, eating packaged tuna and trying to distract themselves from how hungry they are, but they look good?”