A Is for Alpha Male

by Laurel Curtis

  Allison grabbed on to the charcoal gray door handle at her side, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip, but said not one word. Talking me out of crazy driving was just not her top priority right now, and I was impressed by her focus.

  Making my way off of the exit, I mashed the gas pedal the 0.4 Miles down the road to the right that the sign indicated, swung a hard right into the parking lot, and came to a screeching stop right in front of the drive through order screen.

  “Welcome to McDonald’s. How can I help you?” the friendly, alien, boy-like radio voice asked.

  “Yes, I need two large Cokes, extra ice. This is a matter of utmost importance. Life or death!” I preached to the young man.

  “Um.....okay,” he answered with reasonable uncertainty. And if I had to guess, he probably had a hand that was inching its way toward the phone to call the authorities.

  “Oh, and two hash browns, please,” I added on an afterthought. Might as well.

  The thought of food obviously stirred something in Allison, as she snapped to attention, the Scooby Doo “roouh” sound playing in my head while I visualized imaginary dog ears perking up on top of her head.

  “Ooo! Get me one of those Sausage McMuffins with egg too!”

  Right.

  “Okay, I’m also going to need a Sausage McMuffin with egg,” I told the poor soul on the other end.

  “Okay....” he said tentatively. “Will that be all?”

  Shit. Was that it? I looked to Allison in question, she nodded her affirmation, and then, as I turned back to the screen, I jumped right back on the crazy train.

  “You know what, no. Give me one of those Bacon, Egg, and Cheese biscuits too.”

  Silence.

  I was pretty sure he was scared to even ask, so I didn’t make him.

  “It’s okay. I’m finished.”

  Silence.

  “Really, I’m done this time. I promise.” I’m also sorry if I scared you, I thought.

  “Nine Seventy-One. First window, please.”

  Ah, so we had reduced him to using as few words as possible. I wasn’t surprised.

  I coasted around to the window and came face to face with Pimple-face Bobby. Don’t worry, it was the normal amount of adolescent boy acne, not an amount that might put you off of eating food prepared by said person. And I had no idea if his real name was Bobby, but it seemed close enough for my liking as the situation didn’t really warrant being on a first name basis.

  Actually, it was probably better if he didn’t know our names either. As I pulled up to the window, I tucked my credit card back in its spot and took out cash instead. Better to conceal my identity so he wouldn’t know what name to use with the cops.

  I tried to hold my face in an expression that made me look as normal as possible, handed him my money slowly and gently, took my change, and then pulled forward to the next window, never to see Bobby again.

  The next twelve hours were long, included an effing crap ton of miles, and had been earned by both of us at the wheel.

  Nevertheless, we had since switched back to our original positions, me in the driver’s seat and Allison playing DJ. We were still on the interstate about two hours to the northwest of Dallas, and it was definitely time to stop. Not only were we road weary, but I also had another problem as the dark of night took over.

  “I don’t want to alarm you, but I can’t see shit at night.”

  Glancing over at Allison right after the words left my mouth, I realized the expression on her face was nothing short of horrified.

  Whoops.

  “Let me get this straight. You’re currently operating our vehicle, at a high rate of speed, at night, and you can’t see. And yet, you don’t want me to be alarmed?” Allison practically shrieked, her voice going up an octave with each word, her hands once again taking on a death grip on any surface of which she could find purchase.

  “I didn’t say it would be an easy feat. Geez, Mom, what do you want everything in life just handed to you? Life’s a bitch. She makes you work, fight, and bleed for everything you want or need. Right now, you want to not worry.” Bending my arm with my palm facing upward, I shrugged a shoulder and finished, “Well, I’m making you work for it.”

  Simple as that.

  When she didn’t say anything and still looked to be right on the edge of losing her battle with panic, I asked, “Do you want me to pull over, let you drive?”

  Her answer was in the form of a high pitched squawk. “No! I can’t see at night either!”

  I started to laugh softly as she kept going. “But I’m old! It’s normal! You’re supposed to be young, strapping, and healthy. You’re supposed to have all the working parts I don’t. You’re supposed to be able to take care of your old, decrepit mother!”

  At that, my laughter turned full fledged. My mom calling herself decrepit, when in fact, she was hotter than most women in their twenties, was the absolute height of hilarity.

  “Don’t laugh!” she yelled. “It’s bound to make your already subpar vision even worse!”

  But even as she yelled at me to stop laughing, she started laughing herself. Before long, it filled the car and we were both so lost in a fit of giggles that she barely managed to wheeze out, “Haley! Haley, you have to find a place to stop.” She gasped, struggling to find the air needed to speak. “I’m going to pee myself! My bladder can’t take this!”

  I, of course, started laughing even harder, even snorting in the most unattractive way, as I steered the Mustang off of the exit. I knew she meant business. If I didn’t get her to a bathroom soon, she really would pee herself.

  And not only did I not want her to experience the trauma and embarrassment of incontinence, I also didn’t want her to soil my pretty car. Therefore, this was a Defcon 257 situation.

  Wait. Defcon One was what you were supposed to use when the situation was urgent or severe, right? I was always getting that confused.

  So, in fact, this was a Defcon One situation. Or Defcon negative 257 if I wanted to use the same amount of hyperbole.

  I flew down the exit ramp, not even bothering to scan the “Food”, “Gas”, and “Lodging” signs, opting instead to find the closest place that had a bathroom. No matter what type of establishment it was.

  It just so happened that it was a McDonald’s. It was amazing. It seemed like I could only fly into parking lots of Mickey D’s at high rates of speed that day.

  I came to yet another screeching stop, threw my girl into park, and then moved as quickly as I could to get my phone and put it into video mode. Luckily, it didn’t take me long and I had it rolling by the time my mom climbed out of the car.

  And I recorded.

  Every jump, skip, and squeal Allison gave me as she searched frantically for the bathroom in order to find her relief.

  When she finally disappeared from sight, I stopped recording, made sure it saved to my camera roll, put the car back in gear, and parked in a spot instead of sitting inconveniently out in the middle of everything.

  Allison had said she wanted pictures. Documentation of our exploits, if you will. Something told me, this was not at all what she had in mind.

  TWO DAYS LATER, we were in Denver and finally getting ready to go out for a night on the town.

  After Allison had relieved herself, even managing to do it in an appropriate place, we found the nearest hotel and quickly passed right the hell out.

  Danny hadn’t called, but I was too tired to care.

  Then, of course, the next day was filled with more of the same; miles and miles of mindless driving and antics alike. Danny still didn’t call. And maybe, just maybe, I was starting to care a little.

  Today had been a day of recharging our batteries.

  In-room massages.

  Room service.

  All out veg-ing in front of the TV after ordering several Rom Coms on Pay per view.

  That’s right. I said in-room massages. They had such a thing at the Hotel Monaco.

 
As we laid on the bed for hours, recuperating, we were hoping to hear Luke and Ava banging the headboard against the wall next door. Sadly, no banging was to be heard, as they were fictional.

  And if I was honest, I’d rather I was the one doing the headboard banging anyway.

  But now, I was fully recovered and was recklessly swinging my hips, and consequently my ass, back and forth to the beat of some old school tunes. Allison was slightly appalled by the listening material, but as I looked over from my spot at the vanity, I confirmed that her body didn’t agree with her mind.

  Because her ass was gyrating damn near indecently to Sisqo’s “Thong Song” just like mine was.

  We may be Rock Chicks, and I could seriously get down to some Whitesnake or AC/DC, but if I was getting ready to go out, trying to get my energy level up and ready, I needed some serious party jams.

  Enter Sisqo.

  I was pretty sure I was going to follow it up with “Shots” by LMFAO.

  As I was contemplating this, I put the last swish of mascara on my lashes, replaced the wand and screwed it tight, tossed it carelessly into my makeup bag, and then strolled around Allison and back out into the openness of the bedroom section of our hotel room wearing only my top and cheeky panties. I had yet to put my bottoms on. Frankly, I had yet to decide on my bottoms.

  My eyes scanned over the décor, bright colors interspersed liberally but tastefully with stark whites and small touches of animal prints. Hotel Monaco had style— and personality—for sure. It wasn’t your standard hotel room, and its boldness assisted the music in adding to my energy level.

  Faintly, just barely loud enough that I noticed it, I heard Creed start to play in the background, a soft murmur minutely changing the undertone of our blaring getting-ready music.

  My phone.

  And it was Danny’s ringtone. He still hadn’t called since I left. And, if I was honest, I cared. No maybe about it.

  Feeling the awkward tension of going days without contact, I tensed briefly before answering the call. “Hey, Danny,” I said, trying to keep my tone casual and light.

  Danny didn’t even pause. And what he said when he spoke was exactly the reason why it would matter that he hadn’t called in days, when I had only known him for approximately the same measure of time.

  “Let’s not waste time with bullshit, Hales. I’m an asshole. The fact that I haven’t called in the last couple of days to check on you makes me a raging dick. Call me one so we can move on.”

  He got me. His interactions were natural. And he gave me exactly what I needed to relax.

  “You’re a fucking dick,” I responded obediently. I said it because he told me to, but mostly I said it because it was the truth. The addition of the f-word was just me, and I did it all while shaking my head and laughing.

  “Good. I’m glad we got that out of the way. Now, how the hell are you? Have you and Allison gotten thrown in jail yet?”

  Finding the remote of the iPod dock, I turned down the volume so that I didn’t have to strain so hard to hear him but left it loud enough to muffle my end of the conversation from my mom. I wasn’t secretive, but I was human. Nobody liked when other people listened in on their conversation, even if the subject matter was innocent.

  “No jail time to speak of. Though, you definitely wouldn’t have qualified for my one phone call since you dropped off the radar.”

  A chuckle was audible in his voice as he said, “Pure Haley. One insult just won’t do it. Gave you a free shot and you still had to get in a sucker punch.”

  I gave him no response because he was right. He may have given me free rein to call him a dick, but I needed the satisfaction of getting in a jab of my own.

  In fact, it was kind of scary how well he knew me.

  After a few seconds of silence he tested the waters again. “Feel better?”

  And found them warm and inviting. “Absolutely.”

  I had no trouble forming grudges, but I didn’t hold them. Especially when someone met the responsibility for their actions head on.

  “Good. Now, really, how’s Denver? You didn’t change your plans and go somewhere else, right?”

  “Nope, we’re in Denver, as scheduled. However, I couldn’t tell you much about it other than Hotel Monaco has a comfortable bed, good room service, and impeccable massage therapists.”

  “Haven’t actually done anything yet, huh?” he asked through a chuckle.

  “Lazy is my middle name.” Then I clarified, “Or it has been today anyway.” Wandering back over to my suitcase and perusing through my options again, I informed him, “We’re going out tonight though. You actually caught me right in the middle of getting ready. I was trying to decide what to wear on my bottom half.”

  Silence.

  So much silence that I thought the call had disconnected.

  Pulling the phone away from my ear, I checked the screen, saw that the call was still active, put the phone back to my ear, and then questioned, “Danny?”

  “Sorry, Hales. Just took me awhile to move on from you telling me you’re talking to me, right now, without pants on.”

  “Geez, you’re such a man,” I scoffed.

  “Yeah, baby, I am,” he conceded. “Keep that in mind when talking to guys. Not only will they not hear anything you say once you mention anything even remotely sexual, especially a lack of clothes, they’ll also see it as an in. You need to be careful.”

  “Are you saying I should modify the way I walk, talk, dress, and act just so some guy can’t claim he had reason when he sexually assaults me, when in fact, none of those are reasons at all?” I gasped out in feministic affront.

  “Hales. Listen to me,” he said, his tone serious.

  “I am listening to you,” I snapped.

  “Okay. Then hear me. I think you should be able to flap your gums saying whatever shit you want, toss your hair, bat your eyelashes, stick out your ass, or fucking fondle your goddamn self and still say no. But not every man believes that. And I’m not there to take your fucking back if it happens to be an asshole that you land on your hook.”

  I could hear him heave a deep breath, and when he spoke again, there was a gentle difference in his voice. “So I’m just saying be careful. If you think the last few days without a phone call were too much, you’ll see the real meaning of infrequent when I’m doing twenty-five years in prison for hunting some guy down and fucking murdering him.”

  Wow.

  I mean, wow.

  “Right, Dan-o. I’ll have a mind to my actions,” I conceded immediately.

  He was right. Just because I should be able to flaunt my sexuality didn’t make it a good idea. The best way to say safe was to keep your expectations based in reality. And reality was filled with scumbags.

  “Good,” he said, some of the tension already gone from his voice.

  It didn’t take him long to move on, water under the bridge and all that. “I haven’t had time to call, so I definitely haven’t had time to read.”

  Good to know he wasn’t just sitting around and not calling.

  “That changes tonight,” he continued. “While you’re out tonight, I’m going to be reading the first Rock Chick book.”

  Jesus, I thought he had been kidding.

  “You’re really going to read these books?” I asked, unable to keep the disbelief from dripping off of every word.

  He chuckled, and I could just picture his dimples popping out from their scruffy hiding place.

  “Well, as many as I can fit into your road trip, yes.”

  I sat in stunned silence because, in truth, I had no idea how to respond.

  “I see I’ve shocked the un-shockable girl,” Danny mumbled, humor still alive in his tone. “I want to understand your list, Hales. I want to know the reasons behind it, the men you dream about. I want to live the worlds you lived when you read these books and know what you felt when you read them. I want to know you. And your mother daughter road trip proves that your books are the perfect place
to start.”

  My mind reeling, I blurted the first thing that came to mind, and with my filter turned off, it was a doozy. “Wow, Dan-o. I didn’t realize you were so girly.”

  “Girly?” he asked with an interesting mixture of surprise and affront.

  “Well, yeah. Usually girls are the ones making sweet, slightly long-winded explanations like that,” I tried to explain, using a sweet voice to try to appease him.

  See? Sweet explanations. Girly.

  “Okay. I also want to read about all the sex scenes that turn you on and lead to you touching yourself to ease the ache,” he deadpanned.

  Damn. The way he said that was fucking sexy. All rumbly and manly.

  It was also flirty, so I had to readjust when my inner cheerleader started to spell out “Fuck me”. Give me an F...

  I looked down at my crotch and spoke telepathically to my girly parts. Relax, Haley. He’s just a flirty person. Down, you little slut.

  “Okay, that was definitely a more manly answer,” I told him, not only speaking the truth but also stroking his ego a little bit.

  “Thanks,” he said through what I knew was a smile.

  I turned my head when the movement of a shadow caught my eye and noticed that Allison was walking toward me, on her way out of the bathroom. She looked unbelievably cute in a pair of short, white shorts, a black billowy tank top, her usual jewelry, and a pair of black woven espadrilles on her dainty feet.

  Realizing she was fully ready while I still sat on the edge of the bed in little more than my underwear, I figured it was time to put an end to my call with Danny.

  “Hey, Danny, I’ve got to go, okay? Allison is totally ready, and I’m still half naked.”

  I heard him groan at my remark before muttering, “Jesus,” under his breath.

  I let him take the few seconds of grumbling he needed. “Okay, Hales. Have fun, be safe. Watch out for each other, don’t leave your drink unattended, try not to mention nakedness to other guys, and hold strong to the list.”

  I couldn’t help but smile at his fathering and knew I had to rib him about it just a little. “You got it, Dad.”