Whiskey Dick

by Ryan Ringbloom

  Still….

  His blue eyes are so intense and I can’t help but notice the way the green tee accentuates his tanned biceps. He clearly works out. The beard is way hot. Dark, trimmed, neat. I’ve always liked guys with beards, way before “guys with beards” was a trend.

  He turns his head toward me and it’s obvious I’m checking him out. A sexy grin slowly stretches across his face. His bright blue eyes sparkle as if to say “you’re busted.”

  “How you doin’?” he says in a thick New York accent.

  Oh no, he didn’t.

  I’m not the one who’s busted.

  He is.

  “You do watch TV!” Paisley points a finger at me. “Don’t even pretend that you don’t.”

  “What?” A second ago I felt like maybe we were having a moment. What did I say?

  “That’s from Friends.”

  “Is it?” Shit. I play dumb. “I don’t know.”

  “Knowing the Arby’s commercial, I was like okay, I can let it slide, but now you’re quoting Friends. And doing a very good Joey impression, I might add,” she says smugly, way too excited. “Admit it, you watch TV.”

  “Not really.” I shrug indifferently, afraid for some reason to allow her to catch me in my fib.

  “Jax…,” she leads, and I turn to see one perfectly arched brow lift over the rim of her glasses. “Come on, Jay Kay, tell me the truth.”

  “Fine.” The sexy brow weakens my resolve. I succumb to the fact that I’m a TV binging addict like the rest of the world and out it all flows. “Winter is coming. No soup for you. D’oh. That’s what she said. Make it work.” And for the clincher I shout out, “Norm!”

  “Oh my God, you have watched Cheers!” She gasps before breaking into laughter. “And did you just quote Tim Gunn? I’m dead. You’re a Project Runway fan.”

  “No.” I take a hand off the steering wheel. “Not a fan. Occasionally the show is on when my sister watches and I overhear things.”

  “Sure,” she answers sarcastically. I don’t have to see her to know she’s rolling her big brown eyes. “So you were happy with who won last season?”

  “I don’t have an opinion because I don’t watch.”

  “Oh, I see, you must have missed that one when your sister was watching it. Well, spoiler alert, the winner was Brandon.”

  She’s baiting me. I know it was Kentaro. But only because I really did watch a few episodes and the finale with my sister.

  “Who’s Brandon?” I scrunch my face and furrow my brows to sell the fabrication hard.

  “Hmmm, okay fine, maybe you don’t watch.” She sounds unconvinced. “But why would you lie about being a TV watcher? Are you really even a big reader?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Okay. I believe you,” she says quietly, and then bam, “Quick. Who’s your favorite author?”

  “Dina Littner,” I reply instantly. Thank God I had that name locked and loaded. “Of course you know who that is, right?” I turn the tables on her. I got the feeling before that Paisley was not much of a reader.

  “Oh, uh, yeah. She’s the, um, she writes that, with the people who….” She struggles and I want to laugh but somehow manage to keep a straight face. “The political. Satire-y. Mystery.” Nope to all of those things. But I let her off the hook.

  “That’s her,” I say with an internal chuckle. At least now we’re both guilty of some harmless white lies.

  The traffic comes to an absolute standstill. I put the car into park and relax my foot from the brake. We both grab our phones.

  “It says here that parts of 95 are flooded from the rain. That must be why we’re stopped. We’re never getting home.” Paisley sighs, tossing her phone, and searches through her bag, pulling out something crinkly. “Want some?”

  I don’t even know what it is but I hold my hand out and a small pile of M&Ms gets poured into my palm.

  “When do you go back to work?” I ask with a mouth full of chocolate.

  “Not until Friday. You?”

  “Thursday, but that’s only because one of the other managers asked me to switch a day, or else I would have been going back tomorrow.”

  “That works out good, ’cause at this rate we’ll be lucky to get home by Thursday,” she says, and the next few seconds are awkwardly silent.

  It’s true. We’re not making great time and there could possibly be another hotel night in our future.

  We’re both thinking it. However, after last night’s mishap, it’s probably something we should try hard to avoid. Even though I’d sure as hell love a second chance to prove myself to that naughty, two-handed, tip-licking vixen.

  Uh-oh, down boy.

  All of a sudden, I find myself encountering a problem of a different nature from last night. Thoughts of sexing up the girl next to me make my dick stiffen. First this morning, and now sitting here stuck in traffic. I glance down and mentally curse out my deranged dick.

  Where the fuck were you last night?

  Time to Meet the Fam

  If we need to stop tonight, we’re getting two rooms.

  There. Done. Should the question arise, the decision is made.

  And that decision only took me the last four hours to make.

  After the traffic finally let up, we filled the tank, made a quick pit stop to use the bathrooms, grabbed more coffee and regrettably a cheeseburger. Which made me request a second pit stop to “pee” forty-five minutes later.

  We made a rule, whoever drives gets control of the music. I’m driving. Taylor Swift is singing. And my heart patters away because Jax is too. I don’t bring it to his attention that he hasn’t missed one word. I wouldn’t want him to think I’m a hater who’s gonna hate hate hate. Plus I know he’d just blame it on his sister. He seems to do that quite a bit. Even though most of what he’s blaming her for, I happen to find ridiculously charming.

  Sigh.

  With every hour that passes I find myself liking Jax just a little bit more and hoping this trip ends with us becoming friends. With every minute that passes my lusty urges toward him grow and I find myself more than hoping that this trip ends with us finishing what was started.

  No!

  I take that back. The decision was made. I cannot start down this path again. Dammit, Paisley, get it together. I’ve been acting like a horny cavewoman ever since meeting him. I need to stop.

  Taylor Swift fades out and Bruno Mars begins one of his lust-filled ballads. If Jax sings along to this, I’m screwed.

  “Your phone’s ringing,” he says. Damn. No more singing. He grabs my cell from the cup holder where I left it and lowers the volume on the radio. “It’s says Mom. Do you want me to answer it for you?”

  “No, I’m driving. I’ll call her back later.”

  “I’ll push speaker, you can talk while you drive.”

  “No, I’m good.”

  “Scared?”

  “No.” Maybe a little. You never know what someone will say over speaker phone, never mind your mother.

  “Then answer it,” he challenges. “You answer this call on speaker and the next call I get, I’ll do the same, no matter who it is. Deal?”

  That could be interesting. Hmmm…. “Okay, deal.”

  “Get ready, I’m answering… now.”

  “Hello,” I say once Jax signals.

  “Hello, Paisley Lavender, how was your trip?” She greets me with both names as usual.

  “Good.” I’m going to try my best to give all short answers and wrap this up as quick as possible.

  “How was the flight? Did you remember to take Pepto? I know how awful your stomach gets on trips.”

  I swipe at the phone to try and take it from Jax so I can take her off speaker. This was a stupid idea. He moves it out of reach and after a quick swerve, I have no choice but to relent.

  “Ma, I’m not alone and you’re on speaker. No Pepto talk okay?”

  “Who are you with? Why am I on speaker?”

  “It’s a long story but
the flight home got cancelled and I decided to drive home with a…” I feel funny saying friend but I don’t want to say some random guy either. Lord knows that’ll drag up a million questions. “Coworker,” I say instead, glancing at Jax with pleading eyes.

  “Hello, Mrs. Robins, my name is Jax.”

  “Oh, aren’t you sweet, introducing yourself like that. Nice to meet you, Jax.”

  “Mrs. Robins, tell me, the stomach issue? Should I be worried?”

  My mother laughs. Jax laughs. I don’t.

  “And you’re funny too.” My mom swoons into the phone. “Are you single?”

  “Okay, Ma. I gotta go. I’ll call you when I’m home.”

  “Jax”—I’m completely ignored—“did Paisley tell you about me, that I used to dance under the name Lavender Holiday?”

  “Told you,” I mutter to Jax. I’m surprised her checks don’t have the words former exotic dancer after her name.

  “She did tell me and I find it fascinating.”

  “Fascinating. I like that response,” my mom purrs. Great. We’ll never get her off the phone. “So, am I going to meet you, Jax?”

  “Uh…” He looks to me and I stare ahead at the road, frozen. “Well, we’re coworkers, so perhaps at work one day,” he improvises.

  “Oh, are you a—”

  “Ma!” I shout, cutting her off.

  “What? Why are you yelling?” my mom shrieks.

  “I’m not, it’s just, I’ll just call you when I get home.”

  “You’re worried I’m going to embarrass you.”

  Of course I am; she’s done a good job of it so far.

  “It’s just we’re driving and I need to focus.”

  “Fine, go focus. Drive safe, call me when you get in.”

  “I will. Bye.” I motion with a finger for Jax to disconnect. He doesn’t.

  “Bye, Mrs. Robins. It was nice talking to you.”

  “You too, Jax.” She stays on the line. “Oh and Jax, word to the wise, if she doesn’t have any Pepto, you may want to stop and get some.”

  “Hang up. Please hang up,” I say to both of them, either of them. Someone please hang up.

  “Thanks for the advice. Will do. Bye, Mrs. Robins, take care.” He disconnects and sets the phone down.

  “I hate you,” I say, stone-faced.

  “That was fun,” he says. A big shit-eating grin takes over his handsome face.

  “Well at least my call is over, and payback is a bitch.”

  “I’m not worried.” He folds his arms, placing his hands behind his head. “Chances are the next person to call me will be Remi. And I kinda can’t wait to introduce you to her.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, only when I introduce you, I won’t say coworker, I’m going to say ‘my friend, Paisley.’” I have to bite my lip from smiling too hard. Being labeled as his friend sends waves of excitement building in my gut. Guilt crashes those waves. Here he is being all sweet saying he can’t wait to introduce me to his sister, and I had to go and make up that lie about him being a coworker.

  “I’m sorry I said you were a coworker to my mom. I wasn’t sure what to say and coworker just seemed like something easy that wouldn’t warrant much of an explanation. It was shitty of me.”

  “No worries, I understand.” He reaches over and gives my thigh a reassuring tap. It’s a small gesture that gives my body a big reaction. “But speaking of shitty, we better get off at the next exit and grab you that Pepto.”

  We’re in need of another caffeine boost. Paisley runs into the small convenient shop at the rest area to browse the snack selection and I stand in line for coffees. While I wait, I grab my phone to text my sister.

  Me: Do me a favor. Don’t call my phone at all until I’m home.

  Aside from work, Remi is the only one who ever calls. In fact, I’m lucky she hasn’t called already. It hit me as we were driving that as much as I’d love to introduce Paisley to Remi, I can’t. I lied to her about who I was driving home with. Sure, I could fess up and tell her the truth, but my sister knows me better than she knows herself. I wouldn’t get two words in before she picked up on the fact that there’s some strange, confusing feelings in my head toward my driving companion. And since I don’t know what those feelings even are, the best thing to do is just avoid Remi the best I can until I’m home.

  Remi: Why?

  Me: My phone isn’t working properly and I don’t want you to call, not get through and worry.

  Remi: Okay. No problem.

  I stare at the screen and wait for another text. Two minutes go by and nothing. She bought it. Perfect. That was way easier than expected. Remi usually has a million questions.

  Paisley walks toward me with a bag of Sour Patch Kids in her hand that she’s already torn into. No wonder the girl has stomach issues when she travels. Every time we stop she’s got a new snack to munch on. At least I assume she only eats like this when she travels, because her figure is damn near perfect and I oughta know. Damn. Being in close quarters with this girl for so long has my head all sorts of fucked-up. Thank God I was able to fend off Remi before it was too late.

  “Want some?” Paisley offers me some of her candy. She licks the sugar from her lips and I quickly turn away.

  “I’m good.” I clear my throat and step up in line to order our coffees. I order an extra-large hot coffee even though what I really need is an extra-long cold shower.

  With coffees in hand, we head back to the car and I take the keys from her. It’s my turn to drive.

  “You know the deal. I get your phone,” Paisley reminds me, and I hand it over with no worries now that I’ve been in contact with Remi. The car starts and the navigation lights up, informing us that we still have close to ten hours left until we reach our destination.

  It’s late, the sky is dark, and flashing signs all over 95 warn of heavy rains and flooding up ahead. I cannot see us finishing this trip without one more overnight. The possibility of another chance with Paisley is enough to make my head explode.

  Air, I need air, and crack the window before taking the ramp back onto the interstate.

  Ring.

  “It’s your sister!” Paisley exclaims. “Wow, talk about perfect timing.”

  Fucking. Remi.

  “Hello.” My sister’s voice booms through the speaker on my phone.

  “Hey you,” I say casually. If I keep my voice cool, calm, and collected then I should be good.

  “Hey you? What the fuck is going on? I know there’s no Max. Why are you lying? Where are you really and who are you with? I knew the second you sent me that bullshit text not to call you that something was up. I mean, come on. How can your phone not be working and yet you can still send a text?”

  “Remi, can I call you back?” I should have blocked her number. Dammit. Why didn’t I think of that before?

  “No, asshole, you can’t. What the fuck is going on?”

  “Um, hello, Remi, my name is Paisley. I’m actually the one traveling with your brother back to Jersey. Did you just say that your brother sent you a text not to call?” Paisley’s stare penetrates the side of my face. “So much for wanting to introduce me,” she says under her breath.

  “I’m sorry,” I apologize to both angry women. “Paisley, I did want to introduce you, it’s just I lied to my sister in order to avoid a million questions, just like you lied about the coworker thing to your mom. It was nothing against you. And Remi, I’m sorry I lied, I’ll fill you in on everything when I get home.”

  “No, you’ll fill me in now,” my bossy sister demands.

  “There’s nothing to really fill you in on.”

  “How did you two meet?” She ignores me and asks her first question.

  “At the airport. Paisley was booked on the same flight as me. The flight was cancelled and we decided to rent a car and make the drive together. Okay? Filled in? We’ll talk later. Bye.”

  “No, I am not filled in,” Remi retorts with an air of disgust. “I’m your
sister and you’re driving home with a stranger, I think I deserve a few more details before you just hang up on me.”

  “Fine. What do you want to know?” I ask, knowing I will regret it.

  “Okay. Thank you. Geez.” Remi draws in a deep breath. “Well. Of course my number one question is, did you guys have sex?”

  “Hang it up!” I bark, signaling to Paisley to end the call.

  “Wait, wait, wait. Don’t hang up. I’ll be good.” Remi’s laughter fills the car. “God. Relax. It was a joke. I’m sure there is nothing going on between you two. And that you have no idea what color her bra and panties are,” she says sarcastically.

  Both black. At least that’s what they were last night.

  “Remi, I’m hanging up. Goodbye.”

  “No, seriously, I have to talk to you about something. It’s important.”

  “What?” I snap. All patience toward my sister is gone. It usually is.

  “I’m not going to Howie’s wedding.”

  “Okay. Sure.”

  “No, really. I can’t. Mom and Dad are giving me all this shit about jobs and money and life. Plus you’re only going for like two days and if I go I want to go for a week or two so I can get away and just relax.” Get away from what? Her entire life is a one giant getaway where all she does is relax. “Besides, Howie’s more your friend than mine and then there’s that whole thing with Karen.”

  “His sister? What are you talking about?”

  “Remember? We were all drunk and someone made that dare. It might’ve been me, and then we—”

  “Stop!” I demand, my foot pressing down on the accelerator as I try to suppress my rising mound of frustration. “Stop talking. No, I don’t remember and I don’t want to know.”

  “It’s just been very awkward ever since nip-o-mania,” she says, because try as you may, you can’t filter a girl with no filter.

  “Fine, you’re not going. I’ll figure it out.” Without Remi I’ll have no one to make the drive with and I do not want to fly again. Train? Bus? I get momentarily caught up in my thoughts and my sister continues to rattle on.