Lake Redstone

by Hollyfield, J. D.

  I scan the balcony. Everyone’s filling their plates with homemade pasta salad, chips, and burnt ass burgers. I find my girl over at the picnic table, fighting with a bottle of wine. A small part of me says to go over and help her, but my bruised thigh tells me to stay away. I watch in amusement as she brings the cork to her mouth, using her teeth to wrestle it open. Damn, she’s hot even when unstable.

  There’s no doubt my little hellion was having some girly fantasy about me in the bathroom. Being the lead singer of a band, I have a good sense on women. Enough to recognize the way her eyes dilated as they dropped to my mouth. The way her plump lips parted just a sliver. She wanted me to kiss her. She was hoping. And it’s a damn shame she had to punch me and run off. I would have had no problem fulfilling her fantasy.

  “What’s put that cheesy smile on your face?”

  I turn to my right to find June standing next to me, holding a plate of food. “Oh, just thinking about how lovely my girl is,” I say. We both bring our attention back to Casey, who’s gotten the bottle open and lifts it to her lips, forgoing a glass. “Just so lovely,” I repeat as she proceeds to chug it, wine dripping down her chin, with no sign of stopping in sight.

  “She truly is.” June giggles and takes a bite of pasta salad. “Casey’s always been the carefree one. A live-in-the-moment kinda girl. Not like most of us who live off kid schedules, desperately lacking adventure.” She angles herself to face me. “I’m glad she’s finally found someone who can truly see her for her. She needs that.” Her sweet smile guilts me. Realistically, she hasn’t found someone, because I’m only a decoy for her friends to think she’s happy and in love. But that lost look in her eyes as she stares off in thought tells me she’s far from happy. And she may want to castrate me. I guess it’s my lucky day. Instead of ripping off my manhood, she’s drowning herself in wine.

  “Jim-Bob, can I ask you a question?”

  Yeah, just Jim.

  I’m sure this is where I blow it by sticking my foot in my mouth and saying the wrong thing. Something dumb like how she likes her eggs or some shit. Dammit, I’m gonna fuck this up. In the short time I’ve been here, I’ve grown to really like her friends. I may have a new bromance with Mick and his steel muscles, and Jason invited me to a football game, which I hope he still takes me to once the cat’s outta the bag. “Uh…yeah. Have at it.” I’m going with scrambled.

  “I’m not talking down on your profession or anything—sounds like you’re very successful—but it’s odd to me. You see, Casey, for as long as I’ve known her, has never been a fan of businessmen. Let me rephrase, high-profile men. She can’t stand them. It’s strange she’s okay with you being one. And even to work with you. It’s out of character for her.”

  I’m going to assume June is not dumb and is starting to smell the deceit seeping from my guilty eyes. I’m also going to assume scrambled is definitely not the right answer here. “Yeah, about that…we don’t focus much on work. We prefer to keep that separate.” Sweet, innocent smile. Kind eyes. Ones I’m positive are trying to search into my soul for answers. Dammit, she’s scaring me.

  Like losing a game of chicken, I pull my gaze away. I’m not sure if she accepts my answer. I’m gonna go with no, since she continues to stare at me. And why the hell would Casey say I was rich as all mighty if she didn’t even like those kinds of dudes? My girlfriend is a horrible liar. Fake girlfriend, man. “I mean, work schmerk. Who really defines a man by his work and money anyway?” I’m pretty sure you do, asshole. You also hate snobby rich fuckers.

  “Hmmm…okay. I never caught the name of your company.” Fuck. RIP future Mick bromance, season tickets, and the chance of meeting the Bears entire cheerleading squad. “Hmmm, again, it’s just strange, after what her dad did and all, she swore she’d never find herself with a man—”

  “Finding who with a man? Who we talkin’ about?” We both whip around to Casey standing in front of us wearing a cute maroon mustache above her upper lip.

  “Oh, we were just talking about jobs and—”

  “Aaand—who’s gonna get stuck scraping all those burnt patties off the grill. Gotta say, your girl was dead on with the outcome of those poor burgers.” We all glimpse at the table as Katie—

  “Ouch,” we say in unison as Katie throws a burger at Jerry, splattering mustard all over his face.

  “Did that patty just bounce off the table?” I ask, stunned.

  “Maybe I’ll stick to the pasta salad,” June says.

  Casey claps her hands. “Great! So…hey, Jim…Bob, whatever, can I talk to you for a second. Alone?”

  “Alone? Yeah…can’t June just stay?” Having a mediator might be safer.

  “Uhhh…I’m gonna go see how Jason’s fairing on his dinner. I’ll leave you two alone,” she says right before ditching me.

  We’re both silent, Casey waiting until June is out of earshot before she sets those nervous eyes on me. “Listen. First off, I’m sorry.”

  “For?” I face her, my puppy dog eyes in full effect. Gonna make her work for this apology.

  “For punching you in the leg.” She shrugs, the purse of her lips and drawn eyebrows telling me she’s not one to easily apologize.

  “You mean when you punched me because I called you out for wanting me to kiss you?”

  “What, no!”

  “Wait, so you didn’t want me to kiss you?”

  “No! I mean…that’s not the point. I shouldn’t have hit you.”

  “Do you want me to kiss you now?”

  “Yes. I mean, no! Ughhh…stop confusing me. I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I’m not normally this…edgy. I don’t normally hire strangers to play my boyfriend and lie to my friends. This is very unlike me, and I want you to know that. I’ve clearly never done this before and don’t know how to act. I just want to get through this weekend, okay?”

  And I want to know what happened with her dad, what made her hate rich guys, and why everyone around her thinks she needs to be saved. She may be staring back at me with the fake smile she holds for all her friends, the one that says, I’m okay, no need to worry about me, but behind the facade, there’s a story she hides deep down, one even her dearest friends don’t know about. I stare back at her, wondering if it’s a sad one. Is there a reason she lets everyone believe she’s so happy-go-lucky when I don’t think she’s happy at all? Is she so worried about pleasing the people around her, she doesn’t find pleasure in herself? And for someone so head strong, why would she care? Why does she want the approval of these people who are supposed to be her friends no matter what?

  “You’re going all creepy again, staring at me.”

  I am. But I can’t seem to pull my eyes away. She’s like a beautiful train wreck. And it may make me just as crazy, but I dig it. Every little thing down to her impressive eye-rolling skills.

  We may only be an arrangement to each other—a seventy-two-hour farce—but I’m going to spend the rest of the weekend figuring out how to make whatever we have grow and flourish into something real. I just need to determine how to get on her good side. And stay on it.

  “You know what? You’re right. I haven’t been very cooperative either.”

  Her eyebrows rise. “Really?”

  “Well…yeah, the whole name thing, work, kissing you or not kissing you.” I watch her eyes dilate and drop to my lips. Sweet baby Jesus, my prayers have been answered. “I’m simply saying, I’m willing to be more of a team player. Play the part I’m here to play.” I don’t say I wish this wasn’t a farce and I’d like to pursue getting to know one another on a real basis.

  “You will?”

  “Kiss you, yes.” Her cheeks flush, and the urge to kiss her becomes overwhelming. Down, boy. Take it slow. “I’ll also play nice.” I stick my hand out. “Hi, my name’s Jim-Bob. Nice to meet you. Can we pretend we’re in love and date for the next two days, give or take a few hours or so?” There’s a pregnant pause before she finally relaxes. She reaches out and shakes my hand, the warm
th of her smooth skin waking the monster in my pants.

  “Casey. Nice to meet you. And thank you.” Our hands stay locked longer than a normal handshake, until the warmth of our entwined fingers trigger her and she pulls free. “Well…we should probably eat something. Once everyone’s done, it’s going to be on.”

  “What do you mean it’s going to be on?” I didn’t get the whole gangbang, swinger vibe from anyone.

  “Game night. It’s our thing. If you didn’t figure it out during pickleball, my friends are very competitive. No one likes losing.”

  A devious smile breaks across my face. “Well, babe, I rock at all games. It’s a good thing you’re dating a winner.” I wink at her and reach for her hand. Before she has a chance to swoon, I pull her toward the food table. We’ve got a competition to win.

  Casey

  “A praying mantis!”

  “Snakes on a plane!”

  “Sperm donor! Jesus, what the hell are you doing!” Katie yells at Jerry who’s on his third failed round of charades. Everyone is laughing their asses off while Katie looks like she’s about to murder her husband.

  After dinner, we all migrated to the lower deck for an intense game of charades. The sun set, leaving the moon to shimmer across the lake, the warm air continuing into the night. Jim and I stuck to our truce and started acting more like lovers and less like enemies. We found ourselves snuggled together in a lounge chair, me tucked on his lap. Everyone else is huddled around the massive picnic table.

  “Time’s up,” June yells.

  “Honey, it was ‘go fly a kite.’ How could you not get that?”

  “Dude, are you even here? Earth to Jerry! You looked like you were having a seizure up there. How the hell was I going to get kite out of you making a triangle and hula dancing?” I buckle over in tears laughing while June tries to politely hide her giggles.

  “It was a good effort,” June says, handing the bucket to Jim. “You two are up.”

  I sigh, then follow it up with a huff. This is our third round of failure. Whereas Poppy and Mick guessed “elf on the shelf” and “M&M’s” within seconds, Jim and I bombed hardcore. But who the hell would get a naughty police officer, which I think was meant for Poppy, and Moby Dick? I got the dick part since he was thrusting his junk at me, but come on!

  I can’t imagine this time is going to go any better. Jim is just as competitive as everyone else and with two losses under our belt, he’s looking a bit edgy.

  “Who’s picking the clue?” June asks as Jim shakes the bucket with all the ideas people wrote down and crumpled.

  “I got this,” Jim assures me as he reaches in, determined to pick a winner. He unfolds the piece of paper and his eyes light up. Oh, great. The same award-winning grin he’s gotten with the last two. Another topic he swears we’re gonna nail but suck at miserably. He aims his wicked smile on me, and my stomach takes a dip.

  “What?” I ask, now worried. Why is he smiling like that?

  “Oh, baby, we’re winning this one, hands down.”

  Yeah, just like the last two. Got it. Did I also mention every time someone loses, they have to take a shot of tequila from the bottle? And I’m not talkin’ a quick swig. I’m talkin’ spring break, Cancun style, throw your head back while your opponent pours booze straight from the bottle while blasting an obnoxious whistle. Katie and Jerry are half in the bag with their two losses too, but June and Jason seem to be fairing all right even though June weighs barely ninety pounds soaking wet. I’d say Poppy and Mick are the most sober, but every time Poppy turns her head, Jason pours tequila down his throat.

  “All right, all right.” Jim drops the bowl on the coffee table, and June prepares to flip the sand timer.

  “You two lovebirds ready?” she asks, followed by a cute little hiccup. Jim crumples up the paper and waves his hand to start the time. He positions himself so we’re facing one another, and my insides instantly feel funny. Tingly? Ew, what’s happening right now? Tequila has never been a friend of mine, and that hasn’t seemed to change. A layer of goosebumps spread across my body, and I’m scared to admit how hard my nipples just got. His smile threatens to eat me alive. He doesn’t seem to care that we’re surrounded by other people. And tequila me doesn’t either.

  “Ready to win?” he whispers low, the vibrations of his voice warming my lady bits. My lips part, wanting to answer him, but nothing comes out. June flips the timer, and Jim gets to work. He goes for my arms, raising them above my head, then nods for me to keep them there. His hips start to sway in slow motion, his hands caressing his abs as he begins lifting his shirt, exposing his stomach. My gasp isn’t the only one heard around the room as his shirt works its way up and up. “Sweet Jesus,” I muffle, getting a chuckle from June, and an “Amen,” out of Katie.

  “Not Jesus, keep going,” Jim says, keeping his eyes trained on me. His shirt continues to rise, exposing six, rock-hard abs. His hands go flat against his skin, brushing over his pecs. “Babe, come on, you gotta guess!”

  “Time’s halfway,” June says, her voice sounding strained.

  “Uhhh…” My brain is mush. And then his shirt is over his head and hitting the floor, and all that wants to fall from my lips is, “Come to momma.” His hands cup the back of his head, his hips thrust into me, and my tongue falls out and rolls to the floor.

  “Fifteen more seconds,” June pipes in.

  “Babe, guess something!” Jim says, working his hips in a circular motion, bending his knees.

  A laughing Poppy nudges me from behind and whispers in my ear. “Girl. Use your words.” Easy for her to say. She’s used to these strip teases.

  Say something, Casey. Anything.

  “Dog walker. No shirt, no service, uh…” Most doable guy on the planet…

  Son of a biscuit, I don’t know!

  “How does she not know this!” Mick chimes in, his expression riled. He starts mimicking Jim’s moves, and Poppy slaps him on the shoulder to knock it off. “How does she not know this! This should’ve been mine!” he yells, raising his own shirt.

  “Ten, nine, eight….”

  Both of Jim’s hands cup my body, starting from my raised arms, and he strokes me fully up and down.

  “Uhhh…stroke me. I’m a pole. Stroke the pole. Um…dancer…pole dancer? Wait—!”

  “Ding! Time’s up!”

  “Stripper! He’s a stripper!” Mick yells, then rips his shirt off and begins performing his pole dancing moves. Poppy takes an elbow to his bare chest to stop him, while Jim and I have a stare off.

  “How could you not have gotten that?” he asks, annoyed.

  “How was I supposed to concentrate with you half naked bumping and grinding on me?” I snap back.

  He takes a menacing step toward me, our bodies so close, I can feel the warmth of his breath against my lips. “I was playing the game. You know, where I act, and you guess?” Another step, and my stupid hard nipples press against his bare chest. “I set you up perfectly. Pole, dancer, I even took my shirt off for special effects.”

  “Yeah, how does someone not get that?” Mick grumbles, throwing himself onto the nearest lounge chair.

  “Seriously, Mick?” I direct my narrowed eyes on him. “What, since you have your stripper degree from YouTube, you’re the expert?”

  He lifts his head, flexing his pecs. “It makes me knowledgeable in the dance field, so yes.”

  Oh, give me a break. Supermodel Mick and his high and mighty head. I roll my eyes twice over until they roll back forward to Jim. He’s still staring at me, but he’s lost the frustration in his eyes. “What are you looking at?” I snap, wanting to swipe that now smug look right off his face. I also wish he would back the hell up so my nipples would stop trying to carve their initials into his pecs. Ugh…

  “Why the look?” Jim asks, pushing me more to want to murder him.

  “Obviously ’cause she’s mad she doesn’t know a good dancer when she sees one,” Mick says, giving Jim a fist bump. That’s when my shoe
meets Jim’s shin.

  “Ouch!” Jim squeals, going down to nurse his bruised appendage. “What was that for!”

  I go to clutch him by his shirt, but since he’s not wearing one, I fumble and wrap my hands around his neck, pulling him away from the group. “What’s wrong is you’re supposed to be on my side. Not against me!”

  “How am I against you?”

  “Seriously? Fist pumping the enemy is not being on my side.”

  He frowns, not understanding. “But he’s an amazing dancer. Did you see the way he swayed his hips?”

  I go for round two of shin abuse—

  “Okay! Okay! I get it. What do you want me to do?”

  “Tell him he sucks and you can beat him.”

  His facial expression morphs into shock. “I will do no such—ouch! Dammit, that hurts!”

  “And so will the next round if you don’t stay on my side.” He looks back at me with the saddest puppy dog eyes. “Seriously?”

  “It’s just…I like him, and he, Jason, and I are really bonding, and that would be unbrotherly of—shit! You’re insane.” He turns to the group, all leaning over in their seats trying to listen. “Mick, your moves suck. And I challenge you to a dance off. My girlfriend, who I’m in love with and would sacrifice anything for—even my bromance—thinks this is what’s best—”

  I flinch in his direction to shut him up.

  “Hell yeah, did someone say dance off?” Jason jumps into the ring. He picks up the bottle of tequila, pouring a hefty amount into his mouth. He turns the bottle on June, then Katie and Jerry. I stand there with my arms crossed, waiting for Jim to follow through. But he’s stalling. He waits for the bottle to come to him and takes a huge swig. When he pulls back and sees my searing eyes, he goes for another pull. After the third one, I snatch it out of his hands.

  “Knock it off!” I tap my foot on the ground. Jason laughs and heads inside.