After that, we all just sit back and enjoy the music. The roads are clear for the most part, so driving is smooth. Effortless. We travel like that for what seems like fucking hours.
Somewhere in the middle of it we change from jazz to classical rock, but the biggest change comes in the scenery out the window. I begin to see more snow and ice. More hills. But finally, after what seems like another hour or two, I see mountains.
Not just any mountains, though. The best mountains for skiing. The ones in Aspen, Colorado.
“We’re going to Aspen,” I say, straightening up in my seat and feeling legitimately excited for the first time since this road trip began. “For a ski trip.”
I look to Jordan, who seems content to make me work for it.
“Not just a ski trip,” he says. “It’s more than that.”
“But you’ll have to wait and see when we get there,” adds my brother, switching on his headlights for the darkening road. “I’m not telling you any more than that.”
***
When we finally make it up and through the mountains and to the ski resort, I’m ready to get out of the car and get a drink. It seems Alex and Jordan feel the same way, as they immediately drag me with them to a bar inside the main lodge.
As we make our way through the lodge and toward the darker, seductive embrace of the bar, I see beautiful women everywhere I look. They’re all in their winter coats and boots, making me think of fuzzy snow bunnies. But cuter. Sexier. Their faces are all glowing with a bit of cold air, exercise and alcohol.
And that’s when some part of my brother’s secret mission dawns on me: the girls. The women.
Just as I have this realization, the three of us duck into the bar and swim upstream to a cluster of seats close to the bartender. As all three of us take our seats and peruse the drink menu, my brother finally lets me in on his secret. On his reason for dragging me here two days shy of Christmas. “By all the pretty women swarming this place, I’m sure you have a good guess as to why I brought you here, right?”
I nod, deciding on a shot of tequila, and then take a quick glance around the bar. There are lookers here as well. Blondes, brunettes, a few redheads — all with hips and tits and asses to die for. Even some dark-haired beauties with laughter as sweet as honey, and smiles as sparkly as the snow outside. But I’m not interested in any of them. “To get laid?” I ask, finally answering his question.
The bartender brings Jordan a rum and Coke, and my brother a German-imported beer.
“You don’t need just a fuck, man,” says Jordan from over his straw. “If that was enough, we wouldn’t need to take you here to get your mind off your ex.” A pause, while he sucks down a bit of his drink. “You need an experience.”
“And we’re gonna help you get it,” chimes in Alex, delicately eating the foam from the top of his beer.
I take a look at the girls sitting around the bar, flitting in and out of shadows and neon. “Nah,” I say. “None of these girls are gonna do it for me.” Right on cue, my shot of tequila comes and I knock it back. “I’m 38. I don’t need or want another queen.” I grimace, savoring the burn of tequila in the back of my throat. “Some bitch who’s going to demand shit from me.”
My eyes zero in on a particular girl, who’s drinking a little pink Martini, something my ex would’ve ordered. “What I need is a girl who is submissive, yet feisty. And I don’t think there’s any girl here that fits that bill.”
I order another tequila shot.
My brother pats me on the back. “You let us worry about that, bro.”
My second shot comes and goes as quickly as the first.
“We’ll help you find the right girl, yo.” That’s Jordan, and he’s halfway through with his rum and Coke. “By Christmas, you’ll be jingling all the way.”
Chapter 3 – Mariah
From somewhere under my earthquaked blanket and couch cushions, my smart phone rings. Probably my mom. She always gets a little more intense with her phone calling just before the holidays. Especially now that I no longer live at home.
But I’m lucky. It’s not Mom. Grabbing my smart phone from its hiding place and turning it over, I see my friend Jane’s name plastered across the screen, along with her picture. One she took at the beginning of the semester, with her sweater and gloves on.
I answer, glad I’ve had a bit of time to collect myself from my masturbation
session. “Hey, Jane! What’s going on, girl?’
A sugary-sweet giggle. “I was calling to ask you the same thing, lady! What are you up to? Studying?” The way she asks this, it’s almost as if she knows what I was really up to.
“A little,” I say, blushing. I still can’t believe I imagined my favorite actor fucking me from behind, and then unloading his cum on my ass cheeks. I mean, it’s not new that I masturbate. I just usually don’t masturbate in that much…detail. With that much reckless abandon.
“Well, stop it,” she says. Again, it’s almost like she knows what I was just thinking about instead of listening to her. “You can study some other time. It’s Christmas break. Time to have fun with your friends.”
I’m about to debate the finer points of school work and good grades with her, but I quickly decide against it. Even if she cared about college as much as I do, money isn’t a big deal for her. It never is. If I were her, I wouldn’t even have to be thinking about getting a job next semester. I could just focus on my classes, knowing my rich dad is going to take care of everything.
“What are you doing over break? Anything exciting?” Jane’s question pulls me out of my thoughts. Again, I get ready to answer, but from the sound of her voice over the phone, Jane’s already excited about something else. “Because I just got off the phone with my dad, and he’s being generous as usual.”
I roll my eyes. Usually when Jane says her daddy’s being generous, that’s her way of saying he’s “paid her off” again. In other words, he’s thrown money or a gift at her in lieu of actually being there for her. Spending time with her, which isn’t strange anymore. It used to be, when I wasn’t aware that anyone’s parents could be so hands-off, but not since I’ve gotten to be good friends with Jane. At least in her case, I’ve learned money can buy happiness. Hers. And her daddy knows it.
“…bought me a ticket to Aspen! To the ski resort there where we went last time,” says Jane, as I bring my attention back to her.
“Great,” I say, imagining she’s going use this as an excuse to buy a whole new skiing ensemble. “Have fun.”
“I’m not going alone, silly.” Another sweet giggle. This one has me imagining candy canes and gumdrops. “You’re going with me,” she says, as if she’s already made up my mind for me.
“Oh, no,” I say. “I couldn’t…I mean, I have studying to do for next semester.” I let myself ramble, because it’s easier than imagining I might actually have free time and enjoy it. “I have to get ahead in this book for my humanities course before classes start again.” Believe it or not, I have my syllabus within reach.
“No,” says Jane, like I’m nothing more than a bad little puppy who made a mess on her rug. “No way, Mariah. Daddy can’t use the ticket he bought.” Her voice loses some shine. “Says he has to work.”
A pause. In it, we both know what her dad’s really going to be doing when he’s “working” over the holiday. Seeing his mistress.
Jane’s voice pops in again, right on cue. Her energy is right back where it used to be as she says, “So, you’re going, honey! You’re coming with me to Aspen.”
I wish I could tell my future as well as Jane can. I wish I could just make a snap decision and go, but I can’t. I already made a promise. One I can’t break. “Listen, I wish I could go with you to Aspen, Jane, but I can’t.”
I bite my lip, hating the fact that Mom’s already gotten her hopes up.
“Why not?” Jane sounds as miserable as I feel.
“I already promised Mom I’d be home for Christmas.” I say it so low,
I’m surprised Jane can even hear me.
“You always do what your mom says. You always do everything for everyone else, Mariah, but what about you?”
I sigh, knowing she’s right, but what can I do? If I back out now, Mom will never forgive me.
“Are you ever going to care about your own needs?” For the first time in my many years of knowing her, Jane actually sounds angry. Pissed. “Well, if you’re not, then I will.”
She takes a moment, taking a breath. “Come with me.” Her voice is gentler now. “Go skiing. Get some fresh air. Make memories with your bestie.” The way her words get at me, it’s like she has her big soft mouth pressed sexily to the speaker. “Come on, Mariah. It’ll be fun.” Another pause. “Please?”
Heat flashes up my cheeks. She practically porn-star-moaned that word at me.
Suddenly, I’m not worrying about schoolwork. Suddenly, my mind is in fantasyland. Imagining the two of us enjoying the snow. The miles of pine trees and mountain landscapes. Being warm and cozy in front of a fire, and talking about things we never have time to talk about. Boys. Sex.
And then, with my mind swirling with images of all the fun I could be having with her, I do something I never thought I would do: I say “Yes.”
“What?” Jane’s been listing other reasons why I should go with her, and my sudden answer has surprised her.
“I’ll go.” I don’t even try to hide the smile from my face or my voice. “I’ll come with you to the resort!”
Jane celebrates. I can hear her on the other end of the phone. “Whoo-hoo!” More squealing. “That’s my girl!”
I smile, basking in her joy. Mine.
I have no idea what I’m going to tell Mom, but I don’t care. I’ll figure that out when the time comes.
Chapter 4 – Paul
After the bar, my brother and Jordan convince me to mix bubbly with other bubbles. Namely those from Jacuzzi jets.
So here we are: in a large communal hot tub/Jacuzzi thing, which itself is a part of a greater spa and swimming area. We’ve also got drinks. I’ve ditched the tequila for some draft beer, lest I get too drunk and make a fucking fool out of myself. My brother’s gotten himself a whiskey on the rocks, and Jordan’s traded out his normal rum and coke for the brave choice of a white Russian.
I don’t know what it is, but beer and hot tubs go together. Maybe it’s the temperature play of hot and cold; maybe it’s how relaxed, how much fucking better I get to feel for a short period of time. I should always remember to get away from my normal life and spend my time in some fresh powder. I certainly have enough money to do it, so I can’t use that as an excuse not to.
My brother and his friend are talking. Joking about something, but I don’t care too much to listen. I just nod every once in a while so they think I’m listening, but I’m just relaxing and enjoying the beer and bubbles.
Until I see the blonde, skinny apple-bottomed bitch of my nightmares. My ex. She’s here. She’s just Barbie-dolled her way in here: ass jiggling, hips swishing. And she’s with her new boy toy. Some young guy in a pair of board shorts I thought I’d only see on the California coast — gang-style graffiti art covers them. He looks like he’s definitely the type to do whatever she says, whenever. Pure putty in her hands.
Which he proceeds to validate for me as he allows himself to be pulled over and shoved into a nearby chair. Once there, she leans over and slams him with a wet, suffocating kiss. But not before making subtle eye contact with me, and wiggling her ass at me from under her string bikini.
“She’s here.” The seethe in my words gets lost under the bubble of the Jacuzzi. The froth of the water. Though I don’t mean to, I’ve sunk a bit in my seat. Snapping out of it, I sit up straighter, putting on a fighting stance. “What the fuck is she doing here?” I take a swig of my beer. One of two that will finish it off.
“You really enjoy killing everything I’m starting to enjoy, don’t you?” I whisper, making a big deal about getting out of the Jacuzzi. I even try to splash her a bit, though I know it’s childish. I finish off my beer, and set it on the ground. “Well, I’m done here.” I fight to keep my eyes off my ex and her boyfriend. They’re kissing again, and this time they’re making more noise. “Classy, this place.”
With that, I storm out of the swimming area, quickly wrapping a towel around myself.
As I leave, I hear Alex say, “Paul, where are you going?” When I don’t answer, I hear him splash out of the hot tub, and after that, I hear the sound of his footsteps trailing me. I can even hear drops from the water running off him and onto the tile floor. “What happened, man?”
Jordan answers him, also springing out of the hot tub. “Oh shit,” he whispers, definitely loosened by alcohol. His wet, sloppy foot fall follows us, but I don’t turn around. I make a beeline for the room we’ve checked into for the weekend. “That’s his ex.” He laughs a little, though I know he knows it’s not funny. “It’s his ex, Alex! She’s here with us, yo.” I keep walking, hoping I can shut the door on them and all of this.
I reach our room. But before I can tell them to fuck off, they follow me in as I activate the key card. “Great. Just fucking great,” I say, flopping on an overstuffed leather couch. “Just what I needed.” I bring my hands up in mock surprise. “Surprise! On Christmas and my birthday, too!”
Alex is the first to sit down next to me. “Forget about her, bro.”
I growl.
“I’m serious, bro. So, she’s here. So what?” Alex lays a hand on my still-damp back. “The point of being here is to move on. To forget about her. What better way to show her she means nothing to you than to ignore all of that…?” My brother grapples with what words to use next. His hands uncomfortably gesture out “skinny,” but it’s more like “way too skinny.”
Then Alex braces himself. Gets serious. “You can do better than that cheater.”
Cheater. Yeah. She’s good at that, and I wish they hadn’t reminded me.
Again, Jordan’s the one to chime in. “For sure!” An awkward, sloppy pause. “Is it just me, or does your ex look skinnier than she did when she was with you?” He burps, but it sounds like he’s thrown up a little too. “I’m surprised the guy she’s with can get off to all that bone showing.” He snickers. “But then again, a boner’s a boner, right?” Weakly, he pantomimes like he’s the boyfriend fucking my ex.
My brother and I ignore him promptly. “She is skinnier, and it makes me sick to see it,” I say. It’s more to myself and to anyone else.
“Hey,” says Jordan, when he realizes we’re not laughing. “I was just trying to make light of it, man. Just trying to get your mind off it.”
“Whatever.” I fold my hands together, trying to keep from punching something. “She can do what she wants. I’m here to do what I want.” Briefly, my mind wanders to the girl my brother and his friend are supposed to help me find. My perfect girl, if she exists. “I need a girl with meat on her. Some substance, you know? Not fat, but so I’m grabbing something more than skin and bones.”
“I know what you mean.” My brother gives me a playful nudge on my shoulder. “Don’t worry. We’ll find the perfect one for you.”
“Yeah, man.” Jordan takes a seat on my other side, but only after turning on the TV and the gaming system I’ve just now noticed we have as part of our room. That’s fucking sweet, and I know I have to get my mind off Darla so I can enjoy all the amenities that money has to offer. Jordan, Alex and I are all in finance. We work hard enough and make enough money that we should be able to enjoy ourselves on a fucking ski trip rather than spend time collectively dwelling on my ex. “All you have to do is hang out by the restaurant or buffet or whatever, and see which snow bunny enjoys a few good bites of steak, and you’ll have your lady.”
Jordan’s got two controllers in his hand. Keeping one for himself and handing one to me, he says, “No big deal.” Deftly, he taps into the console’s menus and starts up a game. A racing one. Something with all the latest cars and mot
orcycles. “Sorry, Alex. You’ll have to wait for your turn to play me. Heartbroken bachelors first.”
“I’m all for it,” Alex says, getting up and apparently deciding to search the mini fridge for something to drink. He cracks the tab on what I hope is a can of soda, because he’s already pretty fucking drunk. “Whatever’ll keep me from hearing any more of your half-baked romance advice.”
We share a laugh, before diving into a digital paradise of racetracks and fast cars. Just what I need to get my mind off Darla and her rotating-door pussy.
Chapter 5 – Mariah
December 24th
I’d forgotten how good it feels to have wind rushing through my hair, and snow whispering under my skis. But now that I’m whizzing down one of the last courses in the blue “intermediate” section (I decided to start off easy, since I’m a little rusty), I wonder why it took me so long to do something like this. To say “yes” to myself, to having a little fun.
As I swish my hips to one side, and gracefully take a curve in the course, I imagine that the snow being spit up from the edge of my skis is all my worries. My inhibitions. All the “work” I’ve been convincing myself I have to do.
Yes, even the promise to my mom is in the slicing snow underneath my gear.
Kicking my hips out in the other direction, I take another corner. Again, my skis slice into the soft powder, sprinkling nearby rocks and trees. As I hear it land on bark and pine needles, I try to ignore the rising feeling of guilt. How Mom might be calling the smart phone I have on silent.
But, since she seems to have a sense for any time I’m feeling guilt, Jane’s voice intercedes on it before I let it get too far. “For someone who wasn’t sure she wanted to come because of all the studying she had to do, you seem to be enjoying yourself, Mariah!”
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