Whiskey Chick

by Ryan Ringbloom

  “Jenn, there you are.” Her dad peers his head into the room. “Girls, time for dinner.”

  “Not yet, Dad, we need to find Adam,” Jenn says.

  “Adam already left,” he informs us, and Jenn gasps.

  “What? Why?” she cries.

  “I’m not sure, but it might have had to do with something we all saw last night.” He clears his throat, and I know he’s likely referring to the one-man window show he and the others witnessed. But it’s not that. He left because of me. “Come down before everything gets cold,” he says before walking away.

  “I don’t…. He didn’t….” Jenn searches but it’s a lost cause; there’s nothing left to say.

  “It’s okay.” I muster a smile. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. We can leave now.” Jenn points to her room. “Let me just grab my stuff and we’ll go.”

  “No, really, it’s fine.” Leaving now just gives Adam the satisfaction of knowing that he hurt me. Even though he’s already gone. But if I stay, at least I can pretend he didn’t hurt me. That I’m not crushed or broken even though I’m both. “I just need a minute.”

  I leave Jenn to freshen myself up in the bathroom and give myself a pep talk that everything’s okay and this heartache will pass. It wasn’t two years. It was really only one night. I’ll get over it.

  But when we walk into the dining room, my heart sinks. I think a part of me still believed he was here. That he didn’t really leave and that he’d be sitting at the table wanting to talk with me. Of course he isn’t. He’s gone, just like his dad said.

  “Sit here,” Henry says, tapping the chair next to his. A nasty scratch running over his chin.

  “Sure.” I smile blankly and take my seat next to the wrong brother.

  Food gets passed around and light conversation buzzes around me. I try to fill the emptiness inside of me with food, but no matter how many bites I take, my insides feel hollow. What’s wrong with me? I’m acting as if I just lost the love of my life. I didn’t. I screwed things up two years ago on a blind date, and his sweet seduction yesterday was payback. The score is even.

  I reach over and take a long sip of the wine poured for me. Although tempted to keep chugging, I put the glass down. Tonight when I’m all tucked in at brother’s, sweet brother’s, I will pull out the real booze and drown my sorrows.

  “Adam?” Katie exclaims. “What happened to you?”

  I swivel my head and see Adam walking in. His face is badly bruised, his left eye almost completely swollen shut. He spots me and a look of relief washes over his damaged face.

  “Thank God you’re still here, I’ve been looking all over for you,” he says, walking over to me, ignoring the questions being thrown at his surprise return.

  “I’m not the one who left,” I say evenly, “you did.”

  “I’m so sorry, can we talk?”

  “Adam, what happened to your face?” His mother raises her voice over the others.

  “I’m fine, Mom.” He glances toward Henry, who covers a smirk.

  “Then sit down and I’ll get you a plate.”

  “Can we talk?” Adam ignores her, still zeroed in on me. “Please.”

  “Adam, whatever it is, it can wait until after dinner. Remi is in the middle of eating.” His mom answers for me, but I’m relieved. As much as I want to talk with him, I don’t know what it is he wants to say to me. Good? Bad? I don’t know, and either way I don’t think I’m prepared.

  When I don’t budge, Adam has no choice but to take his seat across from me. I try not to look over, but I can feel his eyes on me. Jenn’s leg shakes under the table. It bobs so vigorously that the plates begin to rattle. There’s a tension in the room, and I’m not sure anyone aside from the three of us knows why.

  Adam’s mom grabs an extra place setting from the hutch. “Why is it so quiet in here all of a sudden?”

  No one says anything.

  “Someone must have something to say,” she says.

  “Maybe Adam should tell the Whiskey Chick story,” Jenn says, and then scoops up a heap of potatoes and fills her mouth.

  “Everyone here has already heard that story,” his mom says, refilling her wine glass.

  “No, that’s a great idea.” Adam speaks up. “Remi has never heard me tell it. And I would like very much for her to hear me tell the story.”

  “Something weird is going on,” Katie mumbles to her boyfriend under her breath.

  My hand trembles as I reach for my glass of wine and sip. Inside my chest, my heart feels as if it’s spinning, round and round, like we’re back at the fair riding the Seven Seas.

  “It started off completely normal.” He begins the story to the silent table. All eyes are on him, including mine. “It was about two years ago. A friend of mine thought I’d hit it off with a girl she met at the gym and arranged for us to meet. I was nervous about the whole blind date thing. It had been a while since I’d dated and my track record for meeting anyone that I found even remotely interesting had been dwindling. But then she walked in, and I knew instantly that this time was different. She was gorgeous. Way out of my league. She introduced herself and when our hands touched, I felt a spark. An actual jolt to my heart.” He scratches his head. “I ordered a beer and she ordered a Manhattan. She was so classy and sophisticated. I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. Then we got to talking, and I soon discovered there was so much more to this girl. She was intelligent, sweet, funny, and open.”

  “This is a different version,” I hear someone whisper.

  “I know, he usually doesn’t admit this part,” someone whispers back.

  “Well, as you all know, she drank a few too many. Maybe she was nervous. It was our first time meeting. James Miu was probably a weird choice for a first date.” He looks at me and I give in to a small smile. “She was drunk. I’ve told you that many times. And I should have taken her home right away, but I didn’t. Instead, I let her order lobster and a souffle. Something you’ve all questioned many times, but I think always knew the answer to. I saw something there, and I didn’t want the night to end. When I took her home, yes, she threw up, and yes, it got all over me. But I never told you why.” He pauses, and a few heads tilt forward, making sure not to miss a word. “It’s because I was leaning in to kiss her,” he says. “I admit I wanted desperately to kiss this beautiful girl, drunk and all.” I close my eyes, embarrassed and yet somehow flattered. “And after that night, I didn’t see her again. I blamed myself; I thought maybe her drinking that night was a reflection on me. Something I did or said or maybe she just wasn’t interested. But not a day went by that I didn’t think about her.”

  “What do you mean? Thought about her how? Are you saying you fell in love with the whiskey chick?” Katie leans in excitedly, asking the question everyone is thinking, including me. I hold my breath waiting for his reply.

  “No. I did not fall in love with the whiskey chick,” he says, and a collective breath of disappointment fills the room. I lick my lips to keep them from quivering. So it’s not love, that’s okay. What was I expecting, some fairy-tale ending where Princess Whiskey Chick emerges with the glass bottle that fits and they live happily ever after?

  “You don’t love the whiskey chick?” Jenn asks, her voice tinged in sadness.

  “Don’t you get it? There is no Whiskey Chick,” Adam says.

  “I knew it!” Henry exclaims.

  “Whiskey Chick is just a story,” he continues, ignoring Henry’s outburst. “I fell in love with the woman on the date.”

  “Meghan Jones.” Katie supplies the alias in a dreamy timbre.

  “Yes, I am madly in love with Meghan Jones. I think I was from the first moment I laid eyes on her,” he says, looking directly at me.

  “Oh my God, we have to find her.” Katie is hopping in her seat. “Contact the friend who set you up, search online. There are places where you can go and pay for them to locate a person. You have to find her and tell her how you feel.”

 
“I think she knows.” He gulps. His one good eye stares directly into mine. “And if it’s meant to be, she’ll find me.”

  My heart races. It’s so loud, I wonder if everyone else can hear it. My eyes stay locked on his, sending him a secret message. This is crazy, but I think I love you too.

  “And don’t worry, when you find her, we’ll all be very cool about the whole story thing. She’ll never know that we all know,” Katie vows for the table, encouraging them to nod along in agreement.

  A laugh escapes my lips, and I bring my hand up to cover it. I look over at Jenn, who stifles a giggle of her own.

  “Hmm, I hadn’t thought about that part.” Adam raises his brows and his lips tug down. “That might be an issue once she meets everyone.”

  “I’m sure if you love her and she loves you back, it won’t be.” My voice is low.

  “Do you think she loves me?” His brown eyes look directly into mine, and everyone else in the room seems to disappear. It’s only me and him.

  “I think she might,” I say.

  Drunk Blind Date Guy

  Remi links her pinky with mine under the table to offer me some reassurance. I’m meeting her brother for the first time. Her twin. This is more nerve-wracking than when I met her parents last month. If Jax doesn’t like me, I’m in trouble. He’s her brother and best friend. Although she has admitted that things have been a little difficult between them lately with all the changes going on in their lives.

  A dark haired guy with a beard walks in hand-in-hand with a freckle-face blonde with a rounded belly. I stand up and extend my hand to introduce myself.

  “Adam Barclay,” I say.

  “Adam, nice to meet you. I’m Jax. This is my fiancée, Paisley Robins.” I shake her hand as well before taking my seat.

  We take a few seconds to peruse the menu before the waiter comes over. They both stare at me from across the table with strange expressions, like I’m a puzzle they’re trying to figure out.

  “So, you and Remi,” Jax says.

  “Yes.” I grin, and happily look over at my gorgeous girlfriend.

  “You like Remi,” Paisley says, and I can’t tell if it’s a statement or a question. Remi glares at her and rolls her eyes.

  “I love Remi,” I tell them, and they exchange looks.

  “That’s great,” Paisley says. “She’s fun.”

  “Yeah, uh, fun.” Jax nods with a smirk. “Unfiltered fun, that’s her.”

  What’s wrong with being unfiltered? I personally think it’s fantastic. One of the many things that makes Remi so unique. She speaks her mind; I love that.

  “Thanks, guys.” Remi purses her lips. “And you know who else I think is going to be a lot of fun? I’m sorry, I mean, unfiltered fun. Your daughter. I have a feeling she’s gonna grow up to be just like her aunt Remi.”

  Paisley’s eyes fill, and she brings her hand up to wipe at the dripping tears as she sniffs.

  “I told you to stop saying that,” Jax whisper-shouts across the table. His eyebrows rise in a warning to his sister, and he places an arm around his fiancée, who, I gotta agree with Remi, does seem to be a bit overly sensitive. Although I think it’s the living situation that has made things tense for all of them. But that’s okay, because Remi is graduating soon and already has a job at a salon all lined up. It’s close to her parents’ house, where she will be returning to live until she is ready for a place of her own.

  “So, a baby girl. That’s great,” I say, hoping to break the tension. “I have a sister. She’s great. Actually, in a weird way she’s kind of how Remi and I got together.”

  “I don’t even think I know the story of how you two met,” Jax says. “Tell us.”

  “Well, my sister set Remi up on a date with my brother,” I begin.

  “And I did not like him, but I had already been invited to spend the weekend at their family’s cabin. So I was kinda stuck,” Remi adds.

  “Which was great news for me.” We look at each other and smile. “Unfortunately, everyone got sick while we were there, however, fortunately for us, we didn’t. We spent the day together and got to know each other a little better.”

  “Oh, so you met at the cabin,” Jax says, slicing his roll neatly and spreading the butter evenly across. “That was only like two-three months ago.”

  “Technically, no.” Remi prepares her roll in the much better fashion, smashing it directly into the butter. “We actually met two years ago.”

  “You did?” Paisley’s tears have dried up, her curiosity piqued, returning to the conversation.

  “We were set up on a blind date, but….” I don’t know how much more to say. As many times as I had shared the story of that night, Remi never did. It’s something I still feel guilty about.

  It was an awkward moment at family dinner last month when the big Whiskey Chick reveal was finally dealt with. Terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time. But that’s what happens when you date a legend.

  “A blind date?” Jax questions. “That’s weird. Remi doesn’t do blind dates.”

  “Yeah, so Paisley, did you finish registering for the baby shower yet?” Remi’s voice is supersweet as she leaps into a new topic.

  “Wait a second.” Jax throws his head back and laughs. “Are you the drunk blind date guy she threw up all over?”

  I look over at Remi, who quickly begins chomping on her bread, avoiding direct eye contact with me.

  “I might have told one person the story,” she says with her mouth full.

  “Oh my God, yes, I remember her telling that story after we first met. He walked her to the door and bleh—barf.” Paisley laughs along with Jax.

  “Okay, two people.” She crinkles her nose at me before shoving another piece of bread into her mouth.

  “Yes, I’m the one she threw up on,” I admit to the laughing duo, “but hey, it could have been a lot worse.”

  “How could it have been worse?” Paisley asks through her giggles.

  “Yeah, what’s worse than your date drinking too much whiskey and throwing up all over you?” The continued laughter from both of them is irritating as fuck. But for Remi’s sake, I stay quiet.

  “I think getting a case of whiskey dick on your first date is worse,” Remi states after swallowing her mouthful of bread. And suddenly she’s the one laughing and the other two are not. “The walls are thin in Jax’s house. I’ve heard a few stories of my own.”

  She picks up her glass of wine and sips before sending a quick wink my way.

  Remi Kay - Unfiltered perfection.

  God, I really do love this girl.

  The end.

  If you haven’t read Whiskey Dick yet, now is the time to do so.

  Available Now

  Here’s a peek at Chapter One…

  Just Plane Wrong

  “Sir, are you listening to me? I said your belt can stay on.”

  “Oh, sorry… I… okay.” I grab my buckle, struggling to find the correct hole notched into the worn leather. Why are belts allowed and shoes aren’t? Nothing makes sense here.

  “Stay with your belongings. If your belongings move, you move.” The uniformed woman bellowing at me is no delicate flower, and I break into a sweat. TSAs are not exactly known for their warm personalities.

  I fumble as I rush. My carry-on bag is in a bin that hasn’t moved; my shoes, phone, wallet, and a small prescription tube have already disappeared down the conveyor belt; and I still have a pocket full of change to toss in because the coffee I grabbed earlier cost $3.04.

  “Arms up, walk through,” a new agent instructs. And of course I set off the detector and need to step to the side.

  Bins of personal belongings gather, and herds of people swarm around to gather their stuff. I can’t even see my stuff. What’s gonna stop someone from taking my things if I’m not over there?

  From check-in to baggage claim, every part of flying sucks.

  Bzzzz. The agent swirls a metal detector over my hips.

  “Pl
ease empty your pockets.”

  My pockets are empty; it’s probably the stupid belt I was told to leave on, but I dig in anyway and retrieve an errant dime. “Sorry ’bout that,” I say. The man grumbles, his nod granting me the right to pass, and I hurry over to collect my belongings that are thankfully waiting safely. At least I didn’t have to check any luggage. Out of the million things stressing me out, it’s one less thing to worry about, not that it helps all that much. Now that I’m officially in the airport and one step closer to flying, my nerves are shot to hell. I pat my pockets, making sure I grabbed the pills from the bin in my haste. Phew.

  My stomach grumbles as flame-broiled goodness fills my nose. There’s a Burger King on my way to terminal B, and although I usually try to avoid fast food, all bets are off at the airport.

  But, before doing anything, I need to go to the gate, scope it out for any unattended bags that may need reporting, and inspect the plane through the large glass window for any concerning issues—not that it will make one ounce of difference unless the entire left wing happens to be missing. Nonetheless, I must look.

  I press my head to the glass at gate twenty-four and stare out at the empty tarmac. Where the hell is the plane? I back up a few feet to check that I’m at the right gate. A petite brunette behind the podium clicks away on a computer, and on the digital screen above her, my flight isn’t listed. She’s dressed in the standard blue uniform with the airline’s logo and a gold name badge that says Alma.

  “Going to Newark?” she asks.

  “Mmm-hmm,” I say with some hesitation, afraid of what she’ll say next.

  “There was a mechanical issue and the incoming flight was delayed,” she volunteers with a smile. A smile? How can she say the words mechanical issue and smile at the same time?

  “Oh, are they sending a different plane?” Or better yet, “Are they cancelling the flight?” I ask eagerly.

  “No, the plane is fine.” Alma leans over and lowers her voice. “You don’t need to worry; it’s just the paperwork that usually tends to be the holdup.” She flirtatiously bites her lip, looking me over. I have that effect on women. I’ve been told it’s my eyes. But if this woman could see past my good looks and into my head right now, she’d see a coward with an intense fear of flying silently wishing his mom was here. “The new departure time for Flight 327 to Newark is 9:24 p.m.,” she informs me.