by Shey Stahl
I got my food from Burger King and headed home to convince Anna she needed to come along tonight.
Before I got there, I got stuck in traffic next to the roll-your-fucking-windows-up-corner and the hobo who manned that corner with his shanking knives and fake plastic dog.
Do you ever have that awkward moment when you get stuck next to a hobo at a stop sign while eating a cheeseburger and he’s holding a sign that says, “Hungry, please help,” while he gives you the I-haven’t-eaten-in-months look?
What do you do? What does society suggest?
Me? I handed him my pickles as a peace offering. It seemed fair to me.
The ungrateful little shit just turned his nose up at them and petted his plastic dog.
That was the last time I’d be offering my pickles up, that’s for sure.
I called Anna once I got back to my apartment. She tried to bitch out but I wasn’t having it.
“Fuck you. You’re coming with me.”
“I’m not really prepared to go out.” I could hear her yawning and that stupid squeak she always let out afterwards. “I haven’t even showered. And we’re not twenty-one. How are they going to let us in?”
“I know the owner.”
“I’m tired and my hair is a mess,” was her next attempt at bailing on me.
I wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Just put your hair up. It’s a fucking bar. We’re clearly not going to impress.”
“Fine…” she sighed. “Wait, is Cole coming?”
“Yes,” I lied.
I had no idea if he was coming but for some reason, the idea of going out alone with Casten scared me a little. I know we went to breakfast the other night but that was before I told him I was ready to pay him to fuck me. I felt a little…awkward so to speak.
What if I peed my pants again?
What if I tried again?
As I got ready in my best skinny jeans and new knee-high boots Casten loved, he sent me a text message: Getting off now. Oh wait, that’s your job later tonight…hahaha. Going rate…that’s undecided. We’ll talk more about that later.
Smiling, I proceeded to put the finishing touches on my outfit, smack Adam upside the head, and then toss his girlfriend’s purse in the washing machine before I walked to the bar.
The bar was like two miles away and I had to run from three dogs on the way there and then got lost trying to find the right street so I was a little late. Anna was already there, as was Casten and apparently Cole and Nathan.
I looked down to see my phone vibrate with a text from Italian Tune-up: You better get your ass here right now! Anna is “people bowling” which is just her rolling into random groups of unsuspecting people. They look pissed and I’m not ready to deal with this alone.
This wasn’t the first time she’s done this and that was the first time we spent the night in the emergency room but certainly not the last.
I sent him a quick text so he didn’t panic: I’ll be there in a minute. If they question you, run.
When I finally arrived, Casten and Cole were by the bar talking with the owner, Russ. Apparently Russ knew Jameson and was ready to give those boys anything they wanted but he took their keys. I kept my distance and found my people bowling friend striking up conversations with her latest victim. He was holding a blood soaked rag to the side of his face but at least he was smiling.
I made some lame excuse about how I needed her immediately and then found a booth to sit at. All the dog chasing wore me out.
Anna handed me a drink and pressed the side of her face to mine. “Drink up.”
“Where did this come from?”
Anna pulled her curly ginger locks back into a pony tail and gestured to the group she people bowled with. “Them.”
“You physically abused them and they bought you a drink?”
“No. They turned their backs and I took it.”
Made sense. I would have done the same. Not that I would have taken something from someone else, it’s just that there was no way for us getting drinks on our own in here.
Casten and Cole showed up after that with a pitcher of beer from Russ and the good times began.
Cole was fucking hilarious, as was Casten. I could tell that they both enjoyed the time to unwind after a long day. My kind of people really. Although, there were times I wondered if it was just alcohol Cole was into. He seemed to have way more energy than the normal person.
We, as in me and Casten, settled on playing pool after a while because Anna took Cole outside to smoke she said.
A curvy brunette walked by at one point and smiled provocatively at Casten and then said. “Hey, Casten.”
He just gave her a head nod and a smile but other than that, no real emotion.
“Have you and her humped before?”
He raised his eyebrows twisting his pool stick around with his talented hands. “Humped?”
“Humped, you know …” I made the humping motion with my pool stick between my legs to which he groaned, his head falling forward.
“You’re killing me.” He let out a whoosh before leaning toward me, his chest pressing against me. “And, for the record, I wish I was that pool stick right now. That text message you sent had me hard for an hour.” His voice was low and whispery like it was when he talked about engines with me.
“Answer the question.” I handed him my pool stick and hopped up on the table pulling him to stand between my legs wanting to hump him right then. “And you could be that stick … if you wanted.”
A boyish grin flashed, his eyes focused solely on mine as other people in the bar bumped into him as they passed by. “Yeah, I guess we did hump.”
“But you don’t anymore?”
“It was about a year ago, and no, we don’t anymore.”
We were out of beer by then so we got another pitcher. While we waited, I decided to ask. “Have you ever had a committed relationship?” I have no clue why I asked that by the way. It just sort of came out. Kind of like everything else I said.
“Not really.” He leaned against the bar on his forearms. “What about you?” he nudged my ribs playfully.
“Define committed…” I looked over at him. “Because I once house sat a dog and that was pretty fucking committal. Some might say that was a relationship. He required to be fed at least once a day which was way beyond my attention span. I thought that week would never end!”
Casten let out a rough chuckle. “I mean men. Have you ever had an actual boyfriend where you were only seeing him … that type of relationship?”
I had to think for a moment and then it quickly dawned on me that I hadn’t. Ever.
“No,” I mumbled softly. “I can’t say that I’ve ever had a boyfriend.”
He didn’t say anything more, just nodded and took a drink of his beer. I think, once again, he could sense my nervousness and changed the subject. “Well, you promised to hump me so let’s dance.”
And that’s when the night reached the, as some would say point of no return again on Mystery Monday.
We did hump, but only with clothes on and the night spiraled out of control quickly. I was beginning to think maybe I needed a new crowd to hang out with because at the rate I was going, this lifestyle was getting out of hand. If Casten and Cole had always partied like this, I’m amazed they kept steady jobs and were still alive.
My memory was similar to the night at Casten’s house just a few days ago but I do remember some of what went on.
We lost Cole. Casten got a lap dance from a transvestite wearing knee-high fur boots. Anna tried to steal a cop’s horse on the street while she rode around on a stolen moped.
Anna made the arresting officer pinky promise not to arrest her when she failed her breathalyzer. As it turns out, drunk driving included moped driving in Cornelius.
Casten and I made out for so long I was sure I was about to scream but he still wouldn’t take it further.
I tried to pay him. He wouldn’t take the money and he wouldn’t give in.
And, finally, I woke up in Casten’s bed, fully clothed as was he, only he was lying in the bathtub surrounded by empty bags of Doritos while we both appeared to have cheesy fingers from eating the chips.
He looked so adorable curled up next to the Cool Ranch Doritos bag, his lips pushed out into an adorable zesty pout. I wanted to lick him. All of him, but mostly his lips. I loved Cool Ranch Doritos.
I didn’t want to wake him but I was afraid I was going to with my puking so I ran downstairs and threw up in the bathroom downstairs. After that, I decided to make us some coffee and familiarize myself with his amazing kitchen.
I’d never seen a kitchen so beautiful. Black granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, a fridge big enough to fit a body on either side of its double doors. To the right of the fridge was a farm-style copper sink that I’m sure cost as much as my car did.
Everywhere I looked I got the impression that they cooked a lot, or someone did in here, and they had expensive taste.
The house I grew up in Charlotte was fairly reserved. We never had anything that was luxurious and, for the most part, we were not by any means rich. The Riley family, they had always had money. Very different upbringings we had.
My uncle Tate had money but my dad was never one to ask for it. He was a cop and made a living doing so.
It was hard to focus on anything, my head hurt like it’d been through a blender and then smashed into a cup with the lid on.
But this house, damn. It was way better than my shitty apartment with the questionable stains on the carpet that resembled body lines from the last murder that took place. Not to mention the fact that our bathroom was so small you had to turn sideways when sitting just to pee.
The clock read 6:49 AM so I called Bailey and told her I’d either be late or not coming in. I was kind of glad that Jameson was still in California. I didn’t exactly want to tell that man that I’d fucked up and drank too much. I also felt bad that I had only been there a week and already called in sick.
Apparently Casten had already told Bailey so she just simply said, “Take care Hayden and see you tomorrow” while laughing the entire time.
I’d never had such a cool boss but I was a tad concerned that they were all encouraging my liver assassination.
Casten rejoined me in the living a few minutes later, smirking with his hooded eyes. His shirt was gone, leaving him in just a pair of board shorts that hung low on his sculpted hips.
“Good morning,” he said with grogginess.
I would have raped him right then if it wasn’t for my phone vibrating and my head pounding so badly.
He pushed it toward me but didn’t say anything. Charlie sent me a text that said: Where the fuck are you and why is Casten gone too?
Quickly, I sent back: Mind your own business.
Casten laughed. “Dip stick sent me a text that says keep your dick out of my friend.” His eyebrow arched. “What’s with him? He your warden or something?”
Reaching for his phone, I typed out a text to “dip stick” that read: She’s tight.
Casten looked at what I typed and then sighed shaking his head. “That’ll go over well.”
“What’s with you two? He acts like you two are dating or something.”
I gave him the breakdown of how we met and all that. “So no, nothing’s with us. I had sex with Noah and ever since Charlie’s been weird and controlling.”
“It’s because he wants you.”
“Well,” I smiled, feeling the need to let him know I had no feelings for Charlie. “I don’t want him.”
He caught onto the hidden meaning.
Around 7:20 that morning, Anna called. “Come get me. And what a good friend you were! Why aren’t you with me whore?”
“Well, let me see, I wasn’t with you when you got pulled over for one …” I took a big drink of my second coffee Casten set in front of me. “And, might I add, you were the one who stole the motorcycle.”
She huffed. “What else did I do?” I could hear someone screaming at her in the background about wanting to use the phone. The line was muffled for a second before Anna screamed back with, “Fuck you!” There was more yelling by both parties before she screamed again and said, “I will fuck your shit up, Dolly Parton…back off!”
Casten, who sat next to me at the breakfast bar, slumped forward with his head resting on his folded arms shaking his head back and forth. In a calming gesture, I rubbed his back.
It seemed appropriate.
“Now,” Anna came back on the line. “What happened?”
“You made the cop pinky swear not to arrest you if you failed the breathalyzer.”
“What a fucking brat, he lied,” she sighed dejectedly. “Come get me before I end up in this shit hole for life for committing my first homicide.”
When we got there, Anna was not thrilled with this trip to the slammer. As much time as we spent here growing up, we could have had assigned seats but it had been a year since we’d been detained.
After I sprung her, she gave a little piece of her mind to the staff there.
Anna pointed right in Officer Brenner’s face. “You tell Captain, this place is a goddamn shit-hole and needs to be remodeled.”
“Yeah,” Brenner rolled his eyes. “I’ll get right on that, Anna. Maybe next week when you visit again the accommodations will be more up to your standards.”
“Fucking right it better.”
Anna doesn’t remember this, but she used to make fun of Brenner all throughout grade school and most of middle school until he grew into his head. I doubted he had much respect for her and her demands about the detaining facility.
I managed to get the little ball of fire out of there without a scene again and into the parking lot where Casten and now Cole were waiting. Anna ran full speed toward Cole, knocked him against the hood of his car, and then proceeded to molest him.
Casten chuckled as I walked up to him. “You’d think she was just released from a five year prison sentence and denied conjugal visits.”
I laughed, but then it hurt my head so I stopped. We all looked like shit, and not just ordinary shit, we looked as though we’d been gang raped and then left to die in a disease infested alley.
Nudging his shoulder with mine, I asked, just to be funny. “Are we hung over?”
He leaned into me; his gang raped tangled hair falling into his beautifully bloodshot eyes before he calmly brushed it aside. A few Doritos fell away. “I got a lap dance from a gay guy last night and smell like a distillery in Tijuana. Anna was arrested after trying to bribe a police officer and my cousin just now showed up with only a cowboy hat on. Hung over doesn’t cover it.”
I was beginning to think that me, and fireball, were a bad influence on these Riley boys. And then I thought, who really gives a shit?
What I gave a shit about was why this dirty talking engine builder was keeping his dick in his pants?
I was going to need to up my race if I wanted to win this one.
After springing Anna from the joint, and getting Cole to wear some clothes, we all went to breakfast to absorb some of the alcohol we’d consumed.
There we found ourselves eating greasy food at the same diner I pissed myself at and the same diner Anna threw up in two weeks ago. Apparently it was also the same diner that Cole had shown up in four years ago wearing only a table cloth.
We at least had something in common.
“This place smells,” Anna said, putting her array of piercings back in.
With all the piercings she had, much like Olivia, I’m utterly amazed she didn’t leak when she drank liquids.
“It might have something to do with you,” I suggested taking a large bite of my pancakes, as some syrup trickled down my chin.
Casten chuckled next to me at my lack of fine dining skills.
We were sitting fairly close, close enough I could actually smell
the alcohol on his skin.
Casten groaned, his face falling into his hands while his elbows rested on the table. “Fuck, my head hurts.”
Cole turned Casten’s head, his eyes wide as he whipped his head back around to face him, his palms on each one his cheeks. Casten looked slightly frightened. “Is that a hickey?”
Why, yes, Cole, it is and it was from me. I was damn proud of that purplish marking.
Casten chuckled shaking out of his grasp. “Cole, I danced on a bar, maxed out my credit card in a bar – which I didn’t think was actually possible – so a hickey is the least of my worries.”
I really was a bad influence.
“You’re like a dancer for a Katy Perry video,” Anna said, then sneezed and blew biscuits and gravy all over the front of me. I glared as I wiped off the chunks but other than that, said nothing. I was just thankful it wasn’t puke this time.
Cole chuckled eyeing Casten.
“You danced on a bar?” he leaned forward retrieving the ketchup from the middle of the small table and then poured it over his eggs and hash browns.
“And got a lap dance from a gay guy wearing hooker boots,” he added. “Don’t forget that part. He had some serious fucking moves. I was impressed.”
“And maxed out his credit card,” Anna added drinking directly from the coffee pot on the center of the table. She looked up at us. “You do know it was dollar beer night, right? You would have been better off buying the bar last night.”
Casten hung his head but said nothing.
Anna then opened two creamers, poured them in her mouth, shook her head to mix them and swallowed. “How in the hell did you max it out? Is that even possible for someone like you? I saw that house you live in …” she hinted looking at Casten for an explanation.
Raising my hand hesitantly, I answered for him. “After your dance with red boots, you sort of yelled open bar and handed the bartender your credit card. Everyone was your friend after that.”
Casten’s mouth gaped open for a moment before his head slammed down on the table while he mumbled something about needing another job to support his new hobby of being my drinking buddy.
I felt bad but, then again, he was eighteen, it wasn’t like he didn’t know the difference between right and wrong. Clearly, I lacked this judgment when drunk but we aren’t talking about me. The point was Casten was old enough to make his own decisions. It didn’t stop me from feeling like I may be aiding in this but I just went back to him being eighteen, as if this was a magical number.
