by A. J. Wynter
“It’s a western riding jacket, and I got it at an auction a few years ago, from a real working ranch.”
“Well, I hope for your sake, and the guys at Branfern, that they cleaned it well,” Lainey laughed and then turned to Syd, looking serious. “Tonight’s your night, you know.”
Lainey poured two shots of whiskey and handed one to Sydney. She hesitated, then slammed it back, thumping the glass down on Lainey’s desk. Lainey followed suit and then poured two more. They clinked the glasses and slammed back the fiery liquid.
“Night for what?” Syd asked, coughing as she pounded her chest with her fist.
“It’s your last chance to lose your virginity before you leave this damn college. That’s what.”
“Lainey, you know that if I could have a boyfriend I would. I just haven’t had time and I’m not going to get drunk tonight and bring home some slobbering frat boy just so I can say that I got laid in college,” Syd said. She narrowed her eyes at her friend. “You know me better than that and I’m a little pissed you would even put that out there.” Syd slumped down on her friend’s bed and stared out the window, picking at her fingernails.
“Whoa, Syd. I’m sorry. I was joking. Kind of.” Lainey sat down beside her. “Are you okay?” she asked.
Syd looked at the ground and then turned to face Lainey, “You think that I’m not embarrassed about it? That I haven’t thought about just going out and sleeping with someone, just to feel normal and not like a freak?”
“Syd, I’m so sorry. I know that you’ve had a ton of pressure on your shoulders, and I wish that I had the kind of focus that you do. And trust me, you’re not missing much.” Lainey elbowed Syd and then pulled her up by the arm. “Come on. Let’s go out, have some drinks, enjoy our last night as undergraduates, and see where this little lady called Night takes us. Men be damned.”
“Sounds perfect,” Syd said.
“It does,” Lainey said. She opened her desk drawer and pulled out two flasks, filling each to the brim with more of the maple whiskey. “This one’s for you.” She handed the small silver container to Syd. “Too bad you don’t have any giant pockets to hide it in,” she joked.
Syd opened the flask, took a big swig and smiled. “Too bad,” she giggled and dropped the flask into the giant interior pocket that seemed custom made for a mickey.
With a little fire in their bellies, the two set off to catch a cab to the downtown Brewpub, giggling as they walked. When they entered the pub, Syd felt like every eye in the place turned to look at them. She had been to the pub a few times over the years and had been able to slip in unnoticed. Today, she felt eyes following her every move, and kind of liked it. Syd and Lainey wove their way to the bar through the crowd and ordered a pitcher of the local specialty, the Hoppy Frog.
A two-piece band was playing a folk classic, and there were a few drunk students dancing in between the tables. The bar smelled like stale beer and sweat. With a little liquid courage running through her veins, Sydney surveyed the room.
“Do you want to sit here or at a booth?” Lainey asked.
“Huh?” Sydney asked, distracted by the smoldering hot guy who had met her gaze.
“Where do you want to sit?”
“Oh, um. Here is fine,” Sydney said, leaning her hip on the bar stool.
Lainey followed Sydney’s gaze. “Mmmm. He’s cute.”
“What? Who?” Sydney snapped her head back to face Lainey, her neck slowly turning a deep shade of crimson. Glenfern and Branfern were small schools, and Syd was sure that she had seen every student at least once in her travels across the campuses, but she knew that she had never seen him.
Lainey smiled at Syd knowingly. “Cheers,” she said, raising her pint glass. Syd clinked her beer glass to Lainey’s and chugged back a huge gulp of the overly hoppy craft beer. They chatted with the students beside them, a group of psychology students who were also celebrating the last day of their exams. They finished off the first pitcher of beer and Syd flagged down the bartender, holding up the empty pitcher, “Another sir,” she smiled. The bartender filled the pitcher and set it in front of the girls.
“Are you sure?” Lainey asked.
“You were right, Lainey. I need to celebrate,” Syd said, smiling. She poured the beer into their glasses and they said ‘cheers’ again, sloppily crashing their glasses together. The band started playing a folk version of Brown-eyed Girl and Sydney squealed, “I love this song.” She set down her beer and danced her way through the bar over to the band. She smiled, twirled and danced like she didn’t have a care in the world. Lainey joined her, and they sang and danced, laughing, and trying not to spill their pitcher of beer all over the floor.
When Syd felt a pair of hands on her waist she froze, and stared at Lainey, not knowing what to do. Lainey mouthed ‘turn around.’ She turned to face the guy she had locked eyes with when they first walked in. His eyes were such a rich dark brown they almost looked black, his hair the exact same shade. He smiled at her and reached out his hand, “Derek,” he said.
Syd smiled and shook his hand.
“And you are?” he prodded, leaning in close to Syd’s face.
Syd was too drunk to be embarrassed, “Sydney,” she shouted and smiled at him. “Want to dance?” she asked.
The man smiled and nodded, “I was just about to ask you the same thing.” He grabbed her by her hand and twirled her into him, so her body was pressed against his. She thought that she could feel his heart beating in her chest, but she realized that it was her own. She placed her palm onto his chest and could feel his firmly developed pec muscles through his shirt, and then she pushed him away, twirling and laughing. He pulled her back in once more, but instead of gripping her tightly, he lifted his arm and twirled her away from him and then back in again. He ran his hand in behind the small of her back and held her left in his. Growing up, Sydney had been enrolled in etiquette classes, which included learning all of the traditional ballroom dances, including the waltz. She surmised that Derek must have had the same experience, as the two of them perfectly executed, as perfectly as two drunk people can, the Dutch Waltz, and then the quickstep, and then they waltzed again.
Syd felt comfortable in this strange man’s arms, and a little transfixed by his dark eyelashes and impossibly perfect smile. When the band started to play a ballad, Derek pulled her in close and she could feel the heat from his face against hers, his breath landing just behind her earlobe. He tightened his grip around her waist and reached his other hand behind her neck. He turned his face slightly so that their lips were a fraction of an inch away from each other. He pressed his hips against her and she could feel his excitement. She slightly turned her face so that the tips of their noses were brushing against each other, and then pressed her lips to his. He returned the kiss hungrily, his beer breath mingling with hers and he gripped her ass tightly as she nuzzled into his neck.
“Syd,” Lainey yelled and grabbed Sydney by the shoulder. “Let’s go.”
“No,” Sydney murmured into Derek’s chest.
He pulled back from Sydney and smiled at Lainey, “May I walk you ladies home?”
“We’re fine,” Lainey replied. “Syd, let’s go.”
“He’s being a gentleman,” Sydney hissed, loud enough for everyone around them to hear. “Let him walk us home.”
Lainey conceded, “Okay, fine.”
Derek smiled and wrapped his arm around Sydney’s waist. Syd pulled back and looked at him, she was seeing double, but she wanted to press up against this stranger and kiss him all night long.
*
They teetered to the girl’s dorm residence, Sydney’s hand in Derek’s. On the way home, Sydney and Derek had chatted and discovered that their parents were both doctors and that Derek was also following in their footsteps. He was smart, came from a well-known Manhattan family, and in her current state, Sydney was very attracted to him. Even though they had just met, she imagined what their life would be like together. She pictured their a
rrival home from work, how they would discuss the intricacies of their patients, the successes of their surgeries, the way they would chop vegetables together while debating the merits of the latest medical technology in the kitchen of their Manhattan brownstone and make their plans for their weekend at their lake house.
Lainey pulled out her keys and opened the door. “Come on, Syd,” she motioned.
“Derek and I just want to talk some more,” she said, leaning into Derek’s chest.
Derek smiled at Lainey, “It’s okay, I’ll take care of her.”
“Yeah, Mom. I’m fine,” Syd said.
Lainey hesitated, but then said, “Suit yourself,” and disappeared into the building.
Derek and Syd followed and continued to kiss in the hallway. Syd was enjoying herself and couldn’t wait to spend more time with Derek. He pressed her against her door and whispered in her ear, “Can I come in?”
Sydney smiled and held his hands. All she wanted was to kiss him and get to know more about him. She nodded yes, and they stumbled into her room.
Derek pushed her down on the bed and his kisses turned hard and aggressive.
Sydney was confused, what had just happened? With the change in energy from passion to aggression, Sydney felt herself sober up. “Derek. Can we slow down and just talk for a bit?” He didn’t answer and fumbled with her bra strap. Syd tried to shift her body away from his.
“No,” she shouted sternly. “You have to go.”
Derek stood up and took a couple of steps back. “What the fuck just happened?” he asked.
“I just want to get to know you better, I didn’t think--” Sydney whispered, her eyes wide. Derek interrupted her, “Five minutes ago you were all over me with your come fuck me eyes. What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Is that all you wanted from me?” Sydney asked.
“What did you think I wanted?” Derek asked. “What? Did you think I wanted to come back here and get to know you? Pour a cup of tea and really chat it out? What’s wrong with you?”
“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Sydney screamed. “Get. Out.”
Derek held his hands up in front of him and shook his head, “Fucking women,” he muttered, slamming her door as he left.
Sydney was trembling and hid behind her dorm room curtain, watching to make sure Derek left the building. It was only when she saw his dark form turn the corner at the end of the street, that she breathed a sigh of relief and let the tears spill down her cheeks.
She was so mad at herself. Of course, he was looking for a hookup. That’s what guys do. She had been into him but knew that if she was going to lose her virginity, it wasn’t going to be on a one-night stand with some jerk who didn’t even want to get to know her.
She stood up and peeled off her clothes, feeling the urge and necessity to get the smell of him off of her body. She stepped into the shower, pulled her hair out of the top knot and let the hot water stream over her face. Her drunken mind was racing. If she had gone out more, she could’ve recognized that Derek was only after one thing. If she had more experience, she could’ve avoided this whole night. She would’ve seen the warning signs. Then her mind ran to medical school. If undergrad had been hard, medical school was going to be a whole other level. She wondered if she needed to get out and experience the world a little, get some actual life experience under her belt, before stepping into the feverish pace of medical school. If she continued on her current path, she wouldn’t be a twenty-one-year-old virgin. She’d probably be a thirty-year-old virgin and a naïve one at that.
She wrapped a towel around her body and sat down at her desk. She knew that she wouldn’t be able to sleep. She shuffled her mouse and her screensaver, an action shot of Cowboy and Dorito running with their manes flying out behind them, popped up and made her smile. She logged into her social media account and started mindlessly scrolling until a posting on one of her equestrian groups caught her eye. It was an advertisement for a horse trainer. In Texas. Could this be the life experience she needed?
If she was sober, she never would’ve applied.
Chapter 6 -- Russell
The past few days had been hell, and it was all Russell could do to keep his eyes open long enough to get undressed and into bed. Floyd had stood his ground and hadn’t hired Brody back on – yet. But, Russell was convinced that it would happen soon. Mary told him that only two people had responded to the job posting and she was sure that neither of them would be good enough for the job.
Russell pulled on his cowboy boots and grabbed his Stetson. He made his bed and when he folded his wool blanket, the book he had been reading the night before, fell to the floor at his feet. It was a spy novel set in Europe, the fourth in the series. Russell had discovered that this particular series allowed him a little escape from rural Texas and a glimpse of the world outside the ranch. He stuck an old receipt into the book to mark his page and tossed it on his feather pillow.
Floyd was meeting with the two applicants after breakfast and had asked him to sit in on the interviews. He stretched his back and headed to the barn to feed the horses. The trained ranch horses rushed to greet him, but the new wild horses still wouldn’t have anything to do with him.
He knew that it would just take time, but he was tired.
As the sun rose higher in the sky and he made his way to the main house, the mist from the pond burning off as the heat of the morning rose.
“Morning,” Russell said as he sat down at the long harvest table.
“Morning,” Floyd replied, buttering his toast.
“Are we on our own this morning?” Russell said, pointing to Floyd’s meager breakfast
“I’m eatin’ toast, ain’t I?” Floyd said gruffly and smiled.
Russell smiled back at the old man and grabbed the bag of home-baked bread and the bread knife, slicing off two thick slices and dropping them in the toaster. He pulled a plate out of the cupboard and leaned against the counter waiting for his breakfast. “Where’s Mary?”
“I sent her into town to pick up the two ranch hands I’m interviewing,” Floyd said, sitting down at the empty table. “There’s coffee there,” he pointed at the pot percolating on the stove.
“Perfect,” Russell groaned. Floyd was known for making rocket fuel strong coffee, just about thick enough to eat with a spoon. His toast popped up and he spread a generous layer of butter and peanut butter on top of the bread and sat down on the bench across from Floyd.
“Where are the guys coming from?” Russell asked, taking a bite of his toast.
“Let me see here,” Floyd said, pulling a small spiral bound notebook out of his chest pocket. “Mary made the calls and I’m having a hell of a time reading her writing.” He put on his reading glasses and flipped through the pages. “The first guy, he’s coming from a few counties over, name’s Ronald.”
Hmmm. Russell mused. “Never heard of him. If he’s from within one hundred miles of here and I haven’t heard of him, he isn’t going to be any good.”
Floyd looked up at Russell over his glasses, amused. “The second, now he’s from Connecticut.”
Russell practically spit his coffee out. “Connecticut? Now I know you’ve really lost it, old man,” he laughed. “You’re really grasping at straws there.”
“The fella from Connecticut has some experience that you don’t. I think it might be good for you to widen your horizons.”
Russell smiled but didn’t say anything, but he felt a sense of smugness knowing that Brody would be hired back in no time.
Floyd finished off his toast and slugged back his coffee as Eddie and Carter walked into the kitchen, both yawning and rubbing their eyes. Everyone was worn out from working such long days.
“Y’all gotta fend for yourselves today, boys,” Floyd said, putting his dish in the dishwasher. “Russ, I’d like you to meet me at nine and sit in on these interviews.”
“Sure, boss,” Russell replied. He could use a little entertainment for the day. He shoved the las
t bit of toast in his mouth and washed it down with his turpentine coffee. As he set out down the trail from the main house, he saw the ranch truck barrelling down the driveway. He wanted to get a few chores done before the meetings but paused as the truck pulled to a stop in front of the house. The two interviewees were sandwiched in the front of the truck between Mary and Sally, Mary’s old, stinky hound dog. He squinted his eyes into the sun to see if he could recognize the guy from Battenford Ranch but couldn’t get a close enough look at him. That’s when he saw her.
Chapter 7 – Sydney
Sydney woke up on top of her duvet, still wrapped in her towel. She rubbed her eyes and stared at the clock in disbelief. 7:30? Without fail, she always woke up at sunrise. She sat up, her pounding head a reminder of her terrible evening. She wanted to get to the barn to take her horses out for a quick ride before it got too hot.
She heard a quiet knock on the door, “Yes?” she croaked.
“It’s Lainey.”
Syd stood, her legs a little shaky, and walked hunched over like an old lady to open the door. She let Lainey in, turned, flopped back onto her bed and curled up into the fetal position.
Lainey grabbed Sidney’s hand-knit blanket and covered her up. “How are you feeling today?”
“Not so good,” Sidney croaked. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck.”
“I know what will fix you up,” Lainey said, placing her hand on Sidney’s blanketed thigh. “Soldiers.”
Just the thought of food made Sydney wretch a little bit. Her hands were shaking, and her mouth was dry, “I don’t think that I could keep those soldiers down, but I could use a glass of water.”
Lainey grabbed the empty glass from Syd’s nightstand and filled it up in her bathroom sink. She returned to her seat on the bed and handed the glass of water to Syd, who propped herself up long enough to take a sip.
“How did it go with that guy? What was his name? Derek?”