Spring Fling

by Claudia Burgoa

  The aim is for a vigorous drinking and blowjob schedule. Tequila and tits should distract him, otherwise nothing will. And if we’re recipients of the overflow, so be it. I’m willing to make the sacrifice.

  James is going through stages of a sudden breakup that’s not so different from grief. Stage one was a sense of horror at what he had to do, followed by self loathing at how stupid he was to pick her in the first place. Hopefully he’ll soon feel relief that the next sixty years won’t completely suck.

  “Fuck the bitch!” Matt calls raising his shot glass.

  “I don’t think the people at the next gate heard that,” James says without lifting his head.

  Luckily the bar is short on customers. Just us and the old man slumped on the furthest barstool. He doesn’t give a shit what any of us are saying. Looks like the bourbon he’s clutching is his only concern.

  “The reverend here called her a thunder cunt,” Matt jokes, pitching a thumb in Elliott’s direction.

  “No I didn’t! And please stop calling me that!” he whisper yells.

  That makes us laugh. Even James, who comes up for air.

  Now that he’s got a reaction, Matt needs no other encouragement to keep talking.

  “Okay, now that I think of it, I may have been the one who said it. Sorry, bro.”

  “Thank you,” says Elliott. But it’s the deep sigh that talks loudest.

  We haven’t even left the ground yet and the poor guy is regretting his decision to join us. I’m almost certain he wasn’t expecting this. It probably sounded like a great idea when he was back in Arizona taking care of his flock’s spiritual needs.

  Only getting a short break from having to behave every fucking minute sounds like hell to me. But he must like it. Even as a kid he was the neighborhood good guy. All the parents liked him. His compassion will be tested this weekend. He’s going up against Matt’s idea of humor.

  “Not sure what you saw in her, bro. Besides the beautiful face and great tits.”

  “There was the ass. Don’t forget that,” I add.

  “What exactly happened? I never heard the full story,” Elliott says.

  I shake my head discouraging him from asking. I’ll fill him in later.

  But Matt has more to say. “It was too fucking fast. Next time you want to ask a woman to marry you James, make sure you know her for longer than a month. And don’t work in her father’s business.”

  James shuts down further conversation. “Why are we still talking about her? It’s over. I need a drink. A real one.”

  As he signals to the bartender, I look out the window and see an approaching mirage with dimples. I know what I need to do.

  “Blonde. Dibs!” My voice is loud enough for all three to hear.

  Only Matt and James’ heads turn in the direction of my gaze. Elliott isn’t familiar with our decades-old game.

  “You asshole,” Matt says not breaking his stare. “Give a man a chance. You and James already have the advantage.”

  We’ve been hearing that for fifteen years. Ever since high school. He’s always busting our balls about how women love the Dunn boys. Still calls us that. It pisses him off that we’ve never had to work very hard for female attention.

  Looking through the glass panes of Hennessey’s we see three great-looking women coming closer. By the smiles and animated conversation, it looks like a party. The blonde’s in white skinny jeans. Nice. Like the cool Vans. She’s eating from a bag of gummy bears.

  There’s two others, but it’s her I’m interested in. The innocent doe-eyed look has always attracted me. But only when coupled with a mouth that tells a different story. Hers does.

  I don’t see anything referencing bridal party. No stupid veil or penis lollipops. No Bride or Maid of Honor t-shirts.

  Could just be girls on a fun vacation away from their boyfriends. In that case, Partying in Mexico Rules and Regulations will apply. Get in. Get out. The most important rule, there are no rules.

  We’re waiting to see if they’ll pass by, turn in, or take a seat at Gate 23 across from the bar.

  “She’s hot,” I say mostly to myself.

  “They all are,” James says, now fully present. “Redhead, dibs.”

  His delivery has no immediacy and little conviction, but I’m encouraged. If any woman can shock him into participating, this one has the best chance. She’s my brother’s archetype. Redhead. Natural good looks. Curvy.

  Matt joins the game. “Dibs, brunette!”

  He always aims for the girl just beyond his reach. The most classically beautiful or the one with the best body. Just to prove he can. It works about ten percent of the time. He always has to do the most work to convince a woman. A six-foot-five ginger bodybuilder isn’t the easiest sell.

  Once he makes them laugh they start to see beyond the façade. Most of the time he just shocks them into liking him with unfiltered comments. When he goes in for the kill, his storied cunnilingus skills win them over. Matt’s proud to be known for his expert muff diving.

  By now Elliott’s figured out what we’re doing and he’s mildly disgusted. There’s some smirking involved, as if he’s listening to idiots. I’m sure he thinks we didn’t get the memo that it’s the twenty-first century. Just men who don’t understand the female sex at all. That idea has some merit.

  “Are you kidding me? You’re calling dibs on women? Unbelievable,” he says shaking his head.

  “The reverend objects to our chauvinistic ways,” Matt says feigning a serious tone.

  “We’re short a woman. Now he’s gonna need to wait till we get there.”

  Elliott shakes his head vigorously and holds a palm up.

  “Thanks, but I’m here for relaxation. And the drinks. Maybe some pool time. Worry about yourselves.”

  Three sets of eyes stare at him like he’s a Martian. We all start cracking up.

  “We’re gonna have to get you up to speed, bro. We’re here for the women and what follows. You know what? I’m gonna make you my project.”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “Look,” James points.

  All eyes turn back to the objects of our afflictions.

  Oh yeah, they’re heading for the seats at the gate. Our gate. Cancun bound. Sometimes fate cuts you a break.

  Matt takes off. “Let’s go. Before any other assholes hit on them.”

  He’s not the best one to make the first impression. I pick up my duffel and follow.

  “What about our drinks?” Elliott says.

  “Leave it,” James says. “Come on.”

  Like a trail of ants marching toward water, we cross the aisle and pick our spots. Four vacant chairs across from where the girls have landed. A few glances are sent our way from the redhead and the brunette, but under the radar.

  Blondie’s on her phone. She hasn’t noticed me, but I don’t mind watching unobserved. I just noticed her eyes. They’re the color of the ocean. A stormy sea. Nice.

  Why isn’t Elliott following our lead? Now some other guy’s taken the seat meant for him. He chooses one further down next to a middle-aged man in a Hawaiian shirt. The guy’s eating something from Starbucks. Crumbs fall on his enormous belly then roll to the carpet.

  I signal to Elliott to take one of the two open seats next to the girls. He shakes his head. My lips press together and I send him a death ray with my eyes. He looks away. Shit. This could be our way in. Elbowing Matt, I draw his attention to the problem. Let the hulk take care of it.

  He’s on it in three point five seconds. Getting up, he walks to where Elliott sits, grabs his carryon and brings it to the two empty seats next to the brunette. She gazes up and gives Matt a crooked smile.

  “Afternoon, beautiful.”

  Rolling Elliott’s bag in front of the seat furthest from the woman, he stretches out in the one next to her. He laces his fingers behind his head and leans back. Pretty sure he’s flexing for her benefit.

  “Mind if I stretch out? I’m a little cramped,” he says playi
ng charming guy.

  “You’re a little boy,” she says. “And you’re hoping I’ve noticed your impressive muscles.” There’s a slight pause before she adds, “Very nice by the way.”

  She doesn’t break eye contact, and that alone throws Matt. The fact he hasn’t come back with a quick retort is a first. Oh man. We haven’t even boarded and we’ve already lost one.

  “Are you watching that?” James says.

  “Uh, yeah. At least Elliott will be glad. It’ll get him off his case.”

  I’m distracted by the expression on Elliott’s face. His attention is laser focused on something.

  “What’s he looking at?” I say.

  Our eyes follow the angle of his gaze and it doesn’t take long to solve the puzzle. Amidst the crowd of travelers coming and going is a girl heading our way. A woman’s more accurate. James starts chuckling and I join him.

  She’s Jessica Rabbit in a tiny package. About five-one, with long chestnut-colored hair that curls close along one side of her face. Don’t know how she balances with those boobs.

  “Holly!” my blonde calls to her with a wave.

  I lean over to James who’s watching the same show I am. “She’s with them.”

  Elliott’s finally wearing the smile we were hoping for. By the look of things, he’s decided it wouldn’t be so bad to join the party.

  * * *

  Natalie

  * * *

  “Ow!”

  The sharp edge of passenger 12C’s tote just stabbed me in the leg. I overcorrect, pushing my ass into the elbow of 12D.

  “Sorry,” I say offering an apology to the older gentleman. He’s rubbing his arm and grimacing like my ass is made of concrete.

  The line of boarding passengers moves another few inches closer to their assigned seats. We’re following Holly whose breasts catch the attention of men already seated. Not one moved their heads. Just the eyes darted.

  “Where are those guys?” Maggie says over her shoulder.

  “I can’t see ahead very far,” I say. “What about the eyes on the brunette in the Nike shirt? Blue as glacier water.”

  “I was busy looking at Matt’s arms. I’m going to climb that Sequoia,” she says in hushed tones.

  Maggie is very self-aware and if she says she’s going to do something, it gets done.

  “Remember our mantra,” she whispers. “No inhibitions, no attachments.”

  “You don’t have to remind me,” I say. “This weekend’s for swimming in the ocean, wild sex and bacon.”

  By the furrowed brows of the woman I’m passing, I may have said that a little too loud.

  Maggie and I are chuckling at my definition of a good time when Elizabeth pokes my back.

  “That guy’s watching you.”

  Oh yeah. It’s the guy. There in the next row, his stunning eyes on me as I move closer to 16C. Lord, he’s in the aisle seat across from mine. Thank you whoever is in charge of random blessings.

  This will be the greatest test of my resolve to keep things nice and easy. No inhibitions will be easy. It’s the no attachments that could pose a problem.

  He’s just my type. Handsome, sizzling hot and about six feet of gorgeous packed in a tight container. God help me if he’s just a pinch macho. It’s my kryptonite.

  I hear Maggie’s throaty chuckle. She’s met the gaze of the redheaded bodybuilder with the overblown confidence. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face like he’s read her mind and likes all the dirty passages. Clearly he has no idea who he’s dealing with.

  “Hello, girls!” he says welcoming our group.

  We move as quickly as possible to store our carryons and get seated. There’s a short line of impatient travelers waiting behind us. Maggie makes sure Matt gets a good view of her well-formed ass as she lifts her luggage to the bin.

  “Let me help you,” he says standing.

  I’m half expecting her to flutter her eyelashes and him to flex his biceps. Instead, he lifts the case effortlessly. Standing too close for strangers, he invades her personal space. But no surprise she’s digging it. This is a dance of peacocks.

  As I take my seat, I glance at my next-door neighbor.

  “Hi,” he says immediately upon locking eyes with me. His mouth curves into a movie-star smile. Wow.

  “Hi,” I say.

  No other words are coming to mind. I’m stunned into silence by whatever’s going on in my pants. He’s doing it without a single touch.

  “I’m Parker. What’s your name?”

  “Natalie.”

  I look at Maggie and Matt who are having an actual conversation.

  “They’re already on their second date.” I nod in their direction and giggle at my own comment.

  “Matt’s a good guy. Are you vacationing?”

  We pull away from the gate and head for the runway as the flight attendant does her spiel. The click of seatbelts punctuates the cabin.

  “Bachelorette party. You?”

  It’s hard to read his expression. Hesitation? Disappointment?

  “It’s just a guys’ trip.” He dips his chin and looks up at me. “Please tell me you’re not the bride.”

  Oh, he’s flirting.

  “I’m not. We’re meeting Jenna there.”

  “Good. Because how would it look to the others when they see us having a drink together tonight?”

  I almost forget my fear of flying as the plane lines up on the runway and the engines start their thrust. I’m feeling pretty revved up too.

  “I’m not sure what we’re doing tonight. But if it works, we could probably meet up,” I say casually.

  I like this new me. Divorce has given me a straighter spine. I’ve been far too accommodating when it comes to men. After Alex, I can’t be that girl anymore.

  But in response to my nonchalant attitude, Parker gets this adorable look. If I’m not mistaken, he likes that I just played hard to get. This is friggin fun.

  Hour one of the girls gone wild bachelorette blowout is a success.

  Lift off.

  * * *

  * * *

  Two hours into the flight some seats have changed. We’re close enough to hear bits of everyone’s conversations. Names, professions, where we live, all exchanged. The news Parker’s a stuntman checked my macho loving box. Damn, that’s one hell of a load of kryptonite.

  Our vow to be emotionally detached is under fire on two fronts. Maybe three.

  Both dominating personalities, Maggie and Matt are each trying to assert their positions. Obviously marching toward a night of debauchery if they stop preening long enough. Whether it’s tonight is the unknown. She likes to dangle the carrot. Poor Matt. It’s fifty-fifty odds at this point.

  The quiet guy who’s a preacher took the middle seat between Elizabeth and Holly. They’re playing cards.

  Parker’s brother James sits with his head against the window, shade down, eyes closed. Not sure what’s happening there. He looks detached from his friends.

  Then there’s us. We’re sitting in the same seats, but he’s working his way in. The eyes, that mouth, the deep scar across his eyebrow, all teasing me relentlessly.

  You need to be careful, Natalie.

  That was a good three-second pause of self-reflection. Now I can resume my lust-filled fantasies of the stuntman across the aisle.

  An order comes over the loudspeaker. “Flight attendants, Cabin Crew, please be seated.”

  Without hesitation the crew finds their seats.

  The captain’s announcement takes me by surprise. What’s happening?

  Looking down the aisle, I see an attendant buckling up. She reaches for the intercom mic.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, the captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign. Please return to your seats and keep your seatbelts fastened until the sign has been turned off.”

  My fingers wrap around the armrests as the anxiety rises. I recognize fear coming to life.

  “Don’t worry,” Parker says watching my quickly
declining cool. “Cancun’s noted for air turbulence.”

  “Is that what’s happening?” I say, my voice higher pitched and a little shaky.

  For some stupid reason he’s completely calm. Whatever the thing is that makes a person want to be a stuntman is serving him here. He pokes his brother in the arm and motions for him to fasten his belt. James does it without question then goes back to napping.

  “Give me your hand,” Parker says reaching across the aisle.

  My fingers slide into his palm one beat before the plane drops dramatically. My nails dig into his flesh. Peripherally I see belongings fly in the air. Screams of terror fill the cabin. We start jolting side to side as passengers hold on to the seats in front of them or the people next to them.

  I’ve gone silent. And cold. My heart’s beating so fast and strong I’m expecting a heart attack. Maybe it would be better than what’s about to happen.

  “It’s okay. We’re okay,” Parker says stretching across the aisle and rubbing my arm with his free hand. “Natalie! We’re alright.”

  There’s blood on his hand where my nails wounded him.

  “Your hand. I’m sorry,” I say not really one hundred percent present in the moment.

  “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing.”

  The shaking slows. Parker keeps ahold of my hand but relaxes back into his seat.

  Now the prayers and children’s cries can be heard. It’s heartbreaking. I see the purses and laptops in the aisle. Matt’s holding Maggie and they’re kissing like the plane is about to go down in flames. I’m acutely aware it’s not passion passing between them, but comfort.

  I’m super focused on every detail. Like a slow motion film where you can watch each separate movement. The reverend’s softly praying aloud, arms around his seatmates whose heads rest upon his shoulders. Both Holly and Elizabeth are tucking into him.

  Then it begins again.

  Like an angry giant has grabbed the airplane as if it’s a toy, it seems like we rise a hundred feet then abruptly drop even more. Screams are mixed with calls for Our Lady of Guadalupe’s intervention. I hear a Jesus or two and then an Allaha Akbar. All the gods are being summoned.