All of Me: Rod & Daisy Duet Box Set

by A. D. Justice

  Kevin and I stare at Hunter, who is completely oblivious to our silence during his monologue. Even though I want to tear my eyes away and check on Jace, I can’t figure out if Hunter is jealous or impressed. Maybe both? Or neither?

  “No fucking way.”

  Kevin and I simultaneously jerk our heads toward Jace in time to see him wrap his arms around the shoulders of all three ladies at once. He glances toward us, with a satisfied smirk on his face before the four of them disappear inside the luxury resort together.

  “You know what this means, boys?” I lift my beer to my lips and take a long pull from the plastic bottle.

  “What?” Kevin replies, but his attention is definitely elsewhere.

  “We have to up our game exponentially. Jace just went up to the room with three girls. We’ve been here three full days without a decent score. The next ten days will be hell on earth if we don’t find a way to show him up.”

  “Oh, fuck. You’re right, Rod. We’ll have to listen to him bragging every fucking day for the rest of our lives. Any chance there’s a penthouse orgy we can get invited to? Rod, you’re loaded, you know people. Get us on the list, man.” Hunter swipes the sunglasses off his face and stares at me expectantly.

  “I don’t know what the hell you think I’m involved in when you’re not around, but I don’t belong to a secret society of swingers.”

  “But you have one-night stands all the time. You have to meet them somewhere.”

  “Yeah, on my own. I’ve never been to a sex club. Sorry to disappoint.” I shrug and finish my beer while it’s still cold in this heat and humidity. “Not that I wouldn’t visit one if the right person invited me. I’d have to scope it out first.”

  “I’m going to mingle. Catch you losers later.” Hunter saunters off and joins a group of ladies in the pool.

  “Want to put money on how long it’ll take before one of them tries to drown him?” Kevin nods toward the disappearing smiles and open scowls directed at Hunter.

  “Too easy. He’s already down to mere seconds to live now.” We chuckle at first, then burst out in a horse laugh when one girl splashes water directly in Hunter’s face. “Oh, shot down. He just doesn’t have the touch.”

  “No, he doesn’t. Bet he’ll be touching himself again tonight, though.”

  We raise our beers in the air and cheer Hunter on from the sidelines. He responds by raising the middle fingers on both hands, which only makes us laugh harder. He retakes his seat, still soaking wet from the encounter, and scoffs loudly. “The only explanation is Jace paid those girls. They had to be hired by the hour.”

  “Give it a rest, Hunter. We have plenty of time left on the island to trump Jace. I’m more worried about Kevin. He’s the one who insisted on coming to this singles resort, but he hasn’t even attempted to hook up with anyone yet. What gives, man?”

  “Nothing gives. All three of you are missing the point of this place. I’m not here to have one giant fuckfest.”

  “So, there is one. Is the location printed on the brochure somewhere?” Hunter tips his bottle back but can’t hide his smile.

  “Every one of you complains about how you can’t find a decent girl to date for any length of time. This one wants your money. That one wants to marry the first guy who asks her out. Another one has baggage you don’t want to be saddled with for life. You have a chance to meet someone here, but you’re looking for the resort’s orgy room instead.” Kevin leans his head back against the lounge chair and closes his eyes.

  “Working on your tan? You are a little pale,” I quip.

  “Fuck off, Rod. You’re just jealous because you didn’t work on your tan before our flight left, so you’re basically Casper the pale white ghost out here. On the other hand, I can simply lie here in my natural olive-skinned awesomeness and attract the ladies who venture out of their basements and into the sunlight.” He doesn’t bother to open his eyes when he answers.

  “That was a good burn, man.” Hunter high-fives Kevin and they chuckle at my expense.

  “Excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I wondered if you could help me open this bottle. My hands are so slick with suntan oil.” The brunette with the volleyball ass finally worked up the nerve to approach.

  “Here, let me help you with that.” Hunter is at her side in half a second. He slides his hand along hers before taking the bottle and twisting the top off with ease.

  “Thank you. My hands are just so slippery from rubbing oil all over my skin.” She giggles for additional emphasis.

  “I think you missed a spot. Better let me fix that for you so you don’t burn. The sun is very strong today.”

  “Are you sure you don’t mind?” She bats her eyelashes at him. I thought that only happened in a cheesy romance novel.

  “Not at all. What’s your name, beautiful?” Hunter places his hand on her lower back and steers her away from my chair. They walk in the general direction where I saw her earlier, but they veer off course at the last second, disappearing inside the resort.

  “She came over here fishing for you. Why didn’t you bite?” Kevin’s eyebrows nearly touch his hairline.

  “Eh, she’s not what I’m fishing for today. I’d have to throw her back.”

  He pulls his shades down to show me his bullshit detected glare. “Yeah? A few minutes ago, you were ready to eat her alive.”

  “One, her approach was lame. Two, she hadn’t even tried to open that bottle. If it was slick with oil, Hunter would’ve wiped it off first. Three, I can find her type all over Atlanta. I don’t need a tropical island to score an easy lay. I’m not looking for Mrs. Rod Stone, but meeting someone who’s the complete opposite from all the others would be nice for a change.”

  “Don’t wait too long to find Mrs. Right. You’re not exactly a spring chicken anymore.”

  “What the hell, man? I’m only thirty-five.”

  “Exactly. The average life expectancy for American males is seventy-two. You’re basically middle-aged right now. You’ve already passed your prime, my friend. It’s all downhill from here.”

  “That’s depressing as hell. What the fuck, man?”

  “Someone has to be straight with you. Find someone you’d want to settle down with soon, or you’ll soon have to settle for whoever you can get.”

  “You’re one to talk. We’re the same age and you’re still single too. Where did this all this shit come from, anyway? This doesn’t sound like you at all.”

  He shrugs one shoulder. “My parents just celebrated their anniversary and something my dad said really made me think. He and Mom married young, and they struggled for a long time. Their friends said they were crazy, they’d end up divorced before they were twenty-one, and they were ruining their lives.

  “He attributes a lot of their early troubles to being young and stupid, letting those words create a self-fulling prophecy. Then he almost lost Mom, and that woke him up. He realized she was never his ball-and-chain, weighing him down. She lifted him up. His life wasn’t ruined because of his love for her—it was made complete. He didn’t regret one day he spent with her. He wished they’d never had a day apart.

  “I’ve realized I want what my parents have. The single life doesn’t appeal to me anymore, but finding someone I can share my life with does. That’s why I’m not interested in a one-night stand with a different girl every night anymore.”

  “Hmm … and you think you’ll find the love of your life, the woman of your dreams, here? Among all the drunken misfit Barbie wannabes?”

  “That’s just the thing, Rod. You never know who you’ll meet or where you’ll meet her.” He turns toward me and a slow smile crawls across his face. The one that’s usually reserved for complete and utter mischief. It seems out of place in this serious conversation.

  “All right, enough of the girl talk. You’re in danger of losing your man card. If you start talking about waxing body parts, I’m out of here.”

  “That’s all right. You’ll grow up one day, whether
or not you like it.”

  He’s not wrong about his parents. Their marriage is the stuff movies are made of and others can only hope to have one day, if they’re lucky. If they win the spouse lottery. If they’re in the right place, at the right time, and have the right set of circumstances to meet the perfect person.

  I’ve never found luck to be on my side.

  Everything I have comes from my blood, sweat, tears, and long nights of hard work to make it happen. Nothing was freely given to me. I scraped and fought for every inch I’ve gained in life. The notion of randomly happening upon the perfect mate, one who could make me want to be monogamous, is about as real to me as a fairy tale. The problem is, those tall tales are the exact ones that automatically set up relationships for failure because that level of perfection is impossible to achieve.

  It’s a recipe for instant disappointment and certain heartbreak.

  Been there, done that, and I bought the T-shirt as a permanent reminder I’ll never be that vulnerable or that pathetic again.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Daisy

  “I feel so guilty about taking this trip. Maybe I should cancel and stay home instead. You can get someone else to go with you.” I glance around my new house and take in the unpacked boxes and general mess from my recent move.

  “Maybe you should take the ten-day vacation we’ve looked forward to for months and enjoy yourself for once. Let your hair down and have some fun. Meet some hot guy and let him do all those things you read about in your steamy romance books. Make sure he’s a billionaire badass biker with a secret big heart who’s looking for everlasting love, though.” I can always count on my best friend, Tracy, for stellar life advice.

  “Look at this place, Tracy. I’m nowhere near finished unpacking, and I start a new job soon after I get back. If I go, I won’t have enough time to finish unpacking and get caught up on the past and future lesson plans for my class. The timing is just off. Maybe next year will be better.”

  “Nope. Next year you’ll have an entirely different set of excuses to avoid going. A new reason to avoid facing the real reason you’re hiding. You’re avoiding your own life, Daisy. How do you ever expect to find happiness when you hide from the very things you say you want?” Tracy pins me with that no-nonsense stare of hers that makes me squirm.

  She knows she’s right.

  She knows I know she’s right.

  There’s no getting around it.

  “Fine. You win, I’ll go. I just won’t get any sleep after we get back and before I start my job. Happy now?”

  “Not entirely, but that’s better. Don’t plan on getting much sleep during the trip, either. We have ten days in the Caribbean—sun, sand, surf, hot guys, bad decisions, and an unlimited drink package. Don’t you even think about wimping out on me, Daisy Nash.”

  “You’re going to be this bossy during the entire trip, aren’t you?”

  She cuts her eyes at me with her brows drawn down and a bewildered expression on her face. “Of course. That’s why we’re going together, so I can be your voice of reason.”

  That makes me laugh out loud. “If you’re the voice of reason in this relationship, we are in deep shit on this trip.”

  “Don’t be a spoilsport. You’ve already given all the emergency contact information to your sister. Your parents probably even have the resort manager’s name. You’re hitting the best beaches, in the most luxurious resort, with the hottest guys, and the best friend slash partner in crime you’ve ever had. We will have the time of our lives together. Trust me.”

  “You know I trust you with my life. That’s not even a question.”

  “You just don’t trust my judgment regarding your hoo-ha. You’re not fooling me.” She hits the button on the blender, mixes our pre-flight piña coladas, and passes a glass to me. “To our trip. We leave tomorrow, so you’d better get busy finding your itty-bitty-polka-dot-bikini in all this mess, or you’ll be the talk of the resort in no time.”

  With my drink in hand, I sip the frozen concoction through the straw while I find the box with my summer clothes in it. Before Tracy leaves my new place, we pack my suitcase, make sure my passport is in my purse, and finish off the bottle of Captain Morgan, so he’s not left here alone while we’re vacationing in the Caribbean. I’m not sure what I’ll find in my suitcase tomorrow when we board the plane, but I’m feeling too good to worry about it in the least tonight.

  “Why did I let you talk me into drinking so much last night?” I glance over my shoulder at Tracy as we stand in line for security.

  Here I am, hanging on to an ounce of energy by a single thread, and she’s perfectly put together as if she didn’t stay up all night with me. It’s not fair, really, and should be against the girl code. If I look and feel like shit, the best friend solidarity rule should apply and be strictly enforced. Sensing my glare, she has the nerve to flash her bright-eyed and bushy-tailed smile at me. The laugh isn’t there, but it’s definitely implied.

  “You needed all the rum last night to loosen your sphincter muscle so you can breathe a little.”

  “One has nothing to do with the other. I don’t know what science class you took or how your mother explained anything to you, but your sphincter muscle doesn’t help you breathe. At all. That’s your diaphragm.”

  “That’s exactly what I mean. You’re too damn anal to just relax and breathe. Let whatever is going to happen unfold on its own. You don’t need every moment of your life planned. Nothing has gone according to plan so far anyway, so we’re doing this vacation my way.”

  “If you say so.” I’m not so sure about her plan of not having a plan.

  “All I want is for you to have fun without worrying about tomorrow or next week or next year. Live in the moment and be happy—truly happy—for once.” She means well, but she obviously doesn’t know me as well as she thinks she does.

  Planning gives me a sense of security. Not planning makes me nervous because I don’t know what’s coming around the bend.

  When I don’t respond, she lowers her brows and narrows her eyes. “I know exactly what you’re thinking, Daisy Nash. Not having your every moment scheduled will be liberating, not frightening.”

  Well, perhaps she knows me a little better than I initially thought, but that doesn’t change my stance. But for her sake, I’ll try to go with the flow and see what happens. Worst-case scenario, she’s forced to acknowledge I can’t function the same way she does. Best-case scenario, I learn I can. We both win either way.

  At least, that’s what I’m trying to convince myself anyway.

  “Okay, I’ll try this your way. Don’t make me regret it. What do you want to do first when we get there?”

  “Grab a couple of drinks and check out every amenity the place offers. After you’ve had enough liquid courage, we can walk around and find you a delicious man. Out of all the guys who will be there, there has to be at least one you’ll like.”

  One thing Tracy has given me an earful about is how picky I am about who I will and won’t date. I’ve had plenty of offers, but my response is almost always a “no, thank you.” I can’t help it, though. I have standards I expect them to live up to immediately, and when they fall short before they’ve even suggested a date, I can’t lower my expectations for a free meal and a movie.

  My standards are simple: no players, man-whores, or any man who takes longer to get ready than I do.

  Going by those three principles alone, I don’t think I’ll find “the one” at a singles resort, despite Tracy’s insistence that I shut up about it and just have a marvelous time. Let whatever happens happen. Throw caution to the wind and let it all hang out.

  I’m not so confident I can do that. But I’m determined to have fun with my bestie, so I’ll fake my way through the awkward moments until we’re back in Atlanta and back in our comfortable routines.

  We board our three-and-a-half-hour flight and take our seats in first class. The flight attendants spoil us, bringing drinks and high-
end snacks until the pilot lowers the wheels for landing. We exit down the stairs and walk straight into a separate line for immigration and customs. Our all-inclusive resort thought of everything, including our transportation via the Mercedes van, with a hotel concierge onboard to check us in so we can avoid the line in the lobby. I rarely splurge for myself, but I couldn’t resist doing it for this trip. This is the first time I’ve been away on a vacation like this in my entire life. I don’t expect to find the love of my life on this trip, but I do want to meet someone and have fun, despite Tracy’s doubts otherwise.

  When we arrive at our hotel, we’re met by the resort’s greeting staff, trays of tropical umbrella drinks, and porters who take our luggage to our rooms. With our drinks in hand, we walk through the lobby with our mouths hanging open and giddiness building inside with our every step. Tracy takes my hand and pulls me up the grand staircase and through the doors to the expansive patio overlooking the vibrant blue sea below.

  The wind blows across our face, and we have the best views of the clear Caribbean Sea. We settle against the railing, sip our drinks, and leave all our cares behind. For the next ten days, we’re two single ladies on an elegant island oasis, complete with pools, restaurants, bars, casinos, spas, and costume parties, on a warm southern island in the Caribbean Sea.

  With my eyes closed for a moment, I inhale the salty air and envision the day ahead of us. We have what’s left of the day and all night to explore the expansive resort. Then tomorrow night, we have a late-night costume party to kick off the festivities in a big way. Focusing on the here and now helps calm my mind and tamp down the anxiety lying just under the surface, agitating all my nerves at once.

  My life is splendid now, and this trip will only reinforce that fact in my mind.