Without giving away how happy this makes me, I say that I’m down for a soak and would even be willing to give her one of my swimsuits to borrow.
Which ends up being a good thing, because when we arrive back at the room and start to get changed, it turns out Mariah doesn’t have a swimsuit packed.
I give her the silver two-piece bikini I was planning to wear and change into my matching black one. Which is fine by me anyway, since the black bikini is designed to push up my boobs more. Give me more cleavage. Something Mariah probably wouldn’t be comfortable with anyway.
“Ready Freddie?” I say, enjoying the look Mariah has on her face in reaction to my Grand-Canyon cleavage. She nods, and we head out the door together. But not before grabbing some towels and flip-flops provided by the lodge.
As we head to the hot tub, I let my head fill with more thoughts of Alex. Of what it will be like when I see him again. Maybe you and your brother are there together, I think, becoming excited just by the smell of warm water and chlorine. At least until Mariah and I arrive.
Images of me straddling Alex underneath the bubby water with my bikini bottoms pulled aside fills my head. Then maybe we can each go our own separate ways. At least two different ends of the tub.
***
Unfortunately for me and Mariah, neither of us get what we are expecting once we enter the spa area. Paul’s there, but Alex isn’t.
Even worse than that though, is the fact that there is someone there with Paul. It’s just not his brother. It’s another woman, and Mariah has undoubtedly just seen them cuddled up together. The skinny blonde is hugging on him so close, she might as well be rubbing herself off on his junk. Or on his abs by the way she’s straddling him.
But Paul doesn’t look happy to have her there. If anything, he looks stressed. Harassed sexually, as if this woman is his anorexic nightmare.
Mariah doesn’t seem to pick up on this detail, though. She stops short, her breath stopping even shorter in her lungs. She let out a strangled sob as she stares at them together the way someone would stare at a fiery ball of carnage. Unwillingly transfixed.
In the same moment, I see Paul’s face contort in absolute horror. “Mariah,” he cries, leaping out of the tub. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s just ejected the real-life Barbie doll directly into the water from his lap. “Wait! It isn’t what it looks like!”
Before I can do anything to calm Mariah down, or scan the area one more time for Alex, Mariah bolts from the room. She drags me along with her before I have any say in the matter. Before I even realize I gave her my hand to hold.
“Come on! I’m done!” she cries, pushing out of the doors that separate the spa area from the rest of the lodge. She’s sobbing now, but we continue to move quickly, blindly down the hall. “I want to go home,” she says plaintively.
Worse than her tears, is the fact that I now here Paul running after us. Calling out to her, telling Mariah to wait and to please listen to him. Of course, she wants nothing to do with him.
“I’m going home,” she screams at Paul more than at me. “I’m done with all of this.” Her voice has gone from a raging fire to a burned-out husk.
We walk still faster, and as I feel Mariah’s legs start to give out, I feel my heart give out. I start to give into the sadness and frustration I feel. It takes everything I have not to cry along with her. But even if I do, it isn’t because of witnessing potential cheating on behalf of my friend. It’s because I’m so damn torn between wanting to be on Mariah’s side and going back to look for Alex. Spend the time with him that I promised.
But Mariah reaches our room and tugs me inside before I can make up my own mind. Shutting the door, she collapses in sorrow.
“I can’t believe he would do that,” she wails, “I can’t believe that liar and fraud would invite me to the hot tub over and over again, only to have another bitch in there with him.”
I watch her struggle to get up, to change out of the swimwear into regular clothes. “I thought he had more respect for me than that. But I guess $1 million is cheap to him.”
From over Mariah’s shout, I hear a knock on my door. I know it’s Paul, and while I know Mariah’s not going to want to talk to him, I don’t feel the same. I saw something she didn’t. That Paul wasn’t as enamored with his unexpected company as her sensitive heart wants her to believe.
I shrug her off when she tries to keep me from speaking to Paul. I step confidently to the door and slip out of it into the hall, not caring how much skin I’m showing Alex’s brother.
Paul looks as distraught as he sounded when he ran after us. He’s just as desperate. More so now, now that I’ve stepped out to speak with him.
“Please,” he begs, “you’ve gotta let me talk to Mariah.”
I don’t respond to him, but he acts like I did.
“Just for two seconds.” Behind us, we can both hear Mariah crying. Sniffling. “Two seconds, that’s all I ask,” he adds, practically looking like he’s about to get down on his knees and plead. “Just let me explain to her that it wasn’t what it looked like!” Paul’s eyes look like a caged animal afraid of fire. “I swear to God, I would never do that to her!”
I close the door a bit more, looking at him with genuine sadness. “I know you wouldn’t.” Tears fill my eyes and threaten to fall. Not for Paul, but because I definitely won’t get to see Alex now. “I saw how you really were with her, whomever that woman is. You’re not into her. Clearly.” I pick at the corner of my eyes, daring my tears to defy my perfectly-manicured nails. “But Mariah’s not going to listen to you.” Under my breath, I add, “I wish she would. Then I could be with Alex one more time.”
“There’s gotta be something I can do,” Paul says, switching out of beggar mode to boss mode. “I can’t just let this stand.”
“Take out your phone,” I tell him, “and write this down.”
Paul does what I ask, amazingly producing his phone from what I thought was a pair of purely water-soaked swim trunks.
When I sense he is ready to take down what I have to tell him, I say, “this is Mariah’s address.” I repeat it to him from memory. I’ve never seen a guy’s fingers move so fast as they do on his smart phone’s screen. “And this is mine,” I say. I repeat that one for him because it’s obvious he’s not all that present. His mind is on Mariah.
“Uh-huh,” he says, finishing typing out what I’ve told him. “Got it.”
“That there, what I just had you type?” I say, pretty sure he didn’t get it at all, “that’s for Alex.”
Paul looks at me, but again it really doesn’t click. “Sure. Got it.”
I sigh, making a move to go back in the room. “That’s the only way you’re going to have any chance of saving this with her,” I murmur. And you are my only chance at getting to see Alex again, I think, watching Paul turn and zombie his way down the hall. So, please don’t fuck this up. Nervous, cold sweat starts on my hands. If you do, I might never get to see Alex again!
With that damning thought, I step back into Mariah’s war zone. The minute she sees me, she’s barking orders. “We’re leaving. Now,” she says. “I’m not hanging around here another minute.” She swallows thickly. “I’m not letting my heart get fucked with anymore.”
“Honey,” I say, having to work overtime to hide my exasperation and heartache, “don’t you think you should give him a chance to explain?” I try to grab on to her hand. The one holding the nightgown I just gave her. “It might not be what it looks like, you know.”
“Even if there were some kind of explanation, I don’t want to hear it,” she seethes, gritting her teeth over each word. She storms away from me, angrily shoving clothes on her body. “It’s clear what I’m worth to him.”
I don’t hear anything from her after that after that. Which is fine. It keeps me from having to think too hard about everything I had planned to do with Alex on my final night here. How I’d hoped he’d seduce me into a final round of sex with him before we said our
goodbyes.
But now all I have to look forward to is packing my bags. Which I do, in cheated, lonely silence. More than once, I want to throw my clothes down, and force her to listen. To let me convince her to stay, but I don’t bother. I know she’s too stubborn to listen.
And I’m too depressed to waste the effort.
After our bags are packed, it’s a quick and painless checkout process.
Something I thought I would never hate so much.
Chapter 20
Alex
I’ve just finished putting on my swim trunks. Gotten ready to go down to the hot tub to meet up with Paul, and hopefully, Jane, when I see Paul’s already back in the room. I’ve just stepped out of the bathroom, and I can tell all hell has broken loose.
Paul does nothing but growl and yank at his hair. Pace. Whatever’s happened, he’s too much in his head to even see me, let alone hear me trying to ask him what the fuck happened.
Worse than Paul’s unresponsive mood, however, is the fact that Darla’s here. Standing in the room like a discarded chicken leg dressed in a swimsuit.
I ignore her for the time being and focus on Paul.
“Okay, Paul,” I say, “calm the fuck down. Tell me what happened. Why are you like this?”
Paul whirls on me. “Mariah’s pissed. She fucking hates me, Alex!” He jams an angry, murderous finger at Darla. “And all because this bitch decided to blindside and then corner me in the hot tub.”
Darla clicks her tongue irritably. “Excuse me. I wasn’t the one running away from a simple conversation, Paul.”
“Shut. Up,” Paul says this through a clenched jaw at her. As he does, I’m feeling what he feels: an irresistible urge to throw her out of this room — or worse — out the window. But that would be a crime, and she’s not worth the time.
But it might be, I think morbidly, I have no fucking idea how or if I will ever see Jane again after this. I didn’t ask for her phone number. And that’s usually the first thing I ask a girl when I flirt with her never mind fuck her.
More of Paul’s words erupt into the air, and thankfully or not, I’m not allowed to think any more about how royally I just fucked up my situation with Jane. And all because of that bitch, right there. Paul’s ex-girlfriend, whose mere presence has been threatening to bring our visit to Aspen down the whole goddamn time.
“Mariah saw Darla hanging on me and got the wrong idea,” he says, bringing my eyes back him. “And, rather than let me explain that I want nothing to do with this hoe any longer and that I didn’t invite her into the hot tub, Mariah’s hightailed it out of here.” He drops his head down, looking like he’d rather have it cut off with a blunt razor. “As far as I know, she’s on her way home.”
Gone? My stomach seizes, followed by my heart. I don’t want to admit it, but now I’m feeling sick to my soul, not just pissed at the world.
“Oh, stop being so dramatic, Paul,” Darla says, pulling her robe around her more. “You don’t need to worry about her. You don’t even need to contemplate being with that fat cow anymore because I’ve decided I want you back. I want us to be together again.” Her brave mask crumbles, and I see tears in her eyes. “I want you back, baby,” she whimpers. “We were good together. So good together!” She sobs her fake sobs, sucks up her fake snot. “I see that now.” She comes closer to my brother, looking to snatch him up. Paul resists her, and this only makes her act out more. She cries and falls over as if my brother is the meanest, cruelest creature alive. “I need you, baby. No one is as good as you.”
Paul glowers down at her, and I feel an ember of pride despite my dark mood. “You had your chance,” he says like a judge sentencing her to death. “You fucked it up, Darla.”
Not just for my brother, but me, I think, getting ready to do something to her on my brother’s behalf.
“Or,” adds Jordan, as if the whole rest of the conversation didn’t happen, and he’s stuck back at the very beginning, “don’t let one bad thing ruin the rest of a good night.” He steps out of his hiding place, stuffing a handful of obnoxiously-strong taco-flavored chips in his mouth. “Mariah was just for a bit of fun, yo. The idea was not to get serious about her.”
“Unless he already has,” I murmur.
I stalk over to Darla, hauling her up on her feet. As I do, my mind wanders to Jane. Her beautiful, hourglass body compared to this skinny piece of garbage. I march Darla to the door, not caring when she trips over herself or complains at me for being too rough. She doesn’t know how rough I can be. “It’s time for you to go, Darla. Go be with your boyfriend, or whatever he is.” I open the door to our suite and shove her out.
Her only response is an overly-dramatic wail. “He’s just a tourist,” she says. “We’re not really going out. I just got with him to make you jealous.”
I slam the door in her face.
The scenario would have made me laugh, had my head not been swirling with regret. At how stupid I was not to ask Jane for her number. For her address. Her last name, even. Something to connect me back with her.
But I can’t mourn my stupidity now. Paul’s just as agonized as me. Maybe more, since it was his damn past that came back to bite us.
“Mariah’s the only one for me now.” I watch him wander to the window, hearing tears in his voice. Ones he tries to hide.
But I hear them anyway. And that’s because I have tears of my own closing up my throat. I know what you mean. Jane’s one in 7 billion. I could travel the world, and never find another woman like her. And I just let her go. I just let her walk out of my life.
Pushing back my own disappointment, I put a tender hand on Paul’s shoulder. “Hey.”
He coughs. Sucks down a breath, trying to make it look and sound like he’s not developing a soft, squishy center. “What?”
“She’s the one, isn’t she?” I ask.
When he doesn’t answer immediately, I know I have my answer. She’s the one for Paul, just like Jane is for me. In the silence that ensues between us, I allow my mind to replay the night I spent with her. How irresistible she looked in her blindfold, and how much she enjoyed being teased and punished by me. My mind then wanders to the time in the café, where she openly flirted with me.
My mind wanders to most recently, in the dressing room. I’ve been with a lot of women. I’ve tried to get them to take risks, but Jane’s the only one I’ve ever spent any time with who seems “born” take risks. To be with me, I realize, admitting the emptiness in my heart I’ve been trying to ignore since this shit went down. I don’t want anyone else. At first, I thought I was just getting with her for “relief” from my dry spell. But now I can’t imagine a life without her.
Just then, right when I’m about to succumb to the terror and freedom of that realization, Paul says what I’ve been waiting for him to say.
“Yeah,” he says. “She’s the one.”
Jordan gets up slowly from his perch on the edge of the couch, looking like Jesus has descended.
“She’s the one.” I watch my brother grab his clothes and stuff them into nearby plastic bags. “And I’m going to get her back, Alex.”
That’s all I need to hear. Heart pounding, I dash back into the bathroom as he adds, “I’m getting her back if it’s the last thing I do.”
“Wait a goddamn minute,” I shout, tossing on my clothes so fast I don’t even care when I get my shirt on backwards, or that I have my swim trunks on instead of the briefs. “Don’t go anywhere. I’m going with you, and then we’re going to get a rental car.” Socks and shoes sloppily put on and tied. I’ll get whatever else I need to get on the way. “I’m getting my girl back, too.”
Paul just nods stiffly before heading out the door ahead of me.
I hang back, turning to Jordan. “Check out of here on time for us tomorrow morning and take whatever we forget.
Jordan just stuffs another handful of chips into his mouth. “I got your back, man. Go get the girl. Or girls.”
I hurry to the door, hoping Jo
rdan doesn’t bust my balls about it for the next month, “Thanks, bro.” I open the door and slip myself out. “I’ll stop by your place to pick up the rest of my stuff later.”
“Just get out of here would ya?” As I close the door on my best friend, I hear him add, “you’re making me sick, both of you. Assholes.”
***
From the resort, it’s a mad dash to a rental car place. Before I can even put my car in park, Paul’s out of the front seat and running toward the entrance. I don’t blame him. With it being Christmas, this is the only rental car place we can find that’s open and has anyone willing to serve us a so late.
Alone in the car now, I think about Jane again. How only an idiot doesn’t say, “Hey, baby girl, what’s your number?”
I laugh at myself. So, I can fuck her silly on a swing, in a dressing room surrounded by people, but I can’t remember to ask her for her digits? How the hell am I going to find her? The only think I know for sure is that she lives somewhere near Colorado Springs, and that’s because I stalked her Facebook page. I curl my fingers around the steering wheel, wishing I could turn back time. That, instead of asking her to meet me at the hot tub, I had asked her for her contact information just in case we got separated before we could meet again.
When I’m about to drive away, I think about driving myself to the nearest bar where I can drown my Christmas blues in more than just imported beer, a text pings on my phone.
From Paul.
“Alex,” it reads, “here’s Jane’s address. In the confusion, I guess I forgot she gave it to me along with Mariah’s.” Underneath these glorious words, I read my Christmas miracle. Jane’s full address. Under this, the text continues, “go get her, little brother. If you’re feeling anything like me, you know you can’t live without her. So, don’t.”
That’s all I need. I don’t bother to reply. I just click the address and input it into navigation.
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