The Cocktail Collection

by Alice Clayton

  “Silly Caroline, you had Clive neutered,” Mirror Caroline answered, shaking her head at me.

  “Go fuck yourself, Mirror Caroline, since I can’t even do that,” I finished, ending the interview and taking my naked ass back into the bedroom. Throwing on a T-shirt, I fell into bed, my drunk self exhausted from the hike and the dinner and the wine and the music and the best make-out session I’d ever engaged in. The thought of it brought my tears to the surface again, and I rolled over to grab some tissues, only to find an empty box, which made me cry even harder.

  Stupid Wallbanger voodoo.

  Could this night get any worse?

  Then my phone rang.

  “Pancakes, sweetie?”

  “Love some. Thanks, babe.”

  Jesus.

  “Is there still cream for the coffee?”

  “I got your cream right here, honeybunch.”

  Sweet Jesus.

  Listening to a new couple, much less two new couples was sometimes vomit-worthy. Add to that a hangover, and this was going to be a long morning.

  After talking to James on the phone last night, I’d fallen into a deep sleep, aided, no doubt, by all the wine I’d consumed. I woke with a thick tongue, a splitting headache, and a queasy stomach—made even more queasy by the knowledge that I’d have to see Simon this morning and have that weird we-totally-made-out-last-night conversation.

  James had made me feel better, though. He’d made me laugh, and I remembered how well he took care of me back in the day. It was a nice memory, and an even nicer feeling. He’d called under the pretense of checking with me about a paint color, which I quickly called as a bluff. Then he’d admitted he just wanted to talk to me, and fresh off the Great Hot Tub Rejection, I was happy to talk to someone I knew wanted my attention. Damn you, Simon. When James asked me to dinner the next weekend, I agreed immediately. We’d have a great time . . . and since my O was back in her hidey-hole, I might as well enjoy a night on the town.

  Now, I was seated at the breakfast table, surrounded by two new couples who were filling the kitchen with enough sexual satisfaction to make me scream. I didn’t, though. I kept it to myself as Mimi perched happily on Ryan’s lap, and Neil fed Sophia melon balls as though he were put on the earth for this reason and this reason alone.

  “How was the rest of your evening, Ms. Caroline?” Mimi chirped, raising a knowing eyebrow. I pressed the tines of my fork into her hand and told her to zip it.

  “Wow, grumpy. Someone must have spent the night alone,” Sophia murmured to Neil.

  I looked up at her in surprise. The casualness with which they were treating this was really starting to bother me.

  “Well, of course I spent the night alone. Who the hell do you think I spent the night with? Huh?” I asked, slamming back from the table and knocking my orange juice glass over. “Ah, fuck it all to hell,” I muttered, stomping off toward the patio, tears threatening for the second time in less than twelve hours.

  I sat in one of the Adirondack chairs, looking out over the lake. The cool of the morning soothed my heated face, and I wiped clumsily at my tears as I heard the girls’ footsteps follow me outside.

  “I don’t want to talk about it, okay?” I instructed, as they took the seats opposite me.

  “Okay . . . but you gotta give us something. I mean, I thought for sure when we left last night, I mean . . . you and Simon are just—” Mimi started, and I stopped her.

  “Me and Simon nothing. There is no me and Simon. What, you thought we’d pair off just because you four finally figured your shit out? You’re welcome for that, by the way,” I snapped, pulling my ball cap down lower on my face, hiding my continuing tears from my best friends.

  “Caroline, we just thought—” Sophia began, and I cut her off as well.

  “You thought since we were the ones left over we’d just magically become a couple? How storybook—three sets of perfectly matched couples, right? Like that ever happens. This isn’t some romance novel.”

  “Oh, come on, you two are perfect for each other. You called us blind last night? Hi, pot. It’s me, kettle,” Sophia snapped back.

  “Hi, kettle, you have about thirty seconds before this pot kicks your ass. Nothing happened. Nothing is going to happen. In case you forgot, he has a harem, ladies. A harem! And I’m not about to become his third chippie. So you can forget it, okay?” I yelled, pushing out of the chair, turning for the house, and running right into a quiet Simon.

  “Great! You’re here too! And I see you two peeking through the blinds, idiots!” I cried as Neil and Ryan backed away from the window.

  “Caroline, can we talk, please?” Simon asked, grasping me by the arms and spinning me toward him.

  “Sure, why not? Let’s make the embarrassment complete. Since I know you’re all dying to know, I threw myself at this guy last night, and he turned me down. Okay, secret’s out. Now can we please drop it?” I wiggled out of his grip and walked toward the trail to the lake. I heard nothing behind me and turned to see all five of them, wide-eyed and evidently unsure what to do next.

  “Hey! Come on, Simon. Let’s go.” I snapped my fingers, and he started after me, looking a little afraid.

  I stomped down the trail and tried to slow my breathing. My heart was pounding, and I didn’t want to talk when I was this riled up. No good could come of it. As I breathed in and out, I took in the beautiful morning all around and tried to let that lighten my heart a bit. Did I need to make this more awkward that it already was? No. I had the control here, last night notwithstanding. I could make it so last night never happened, or I could certainly try.

  I breathed again, feeling a bit of the tension leave my body. Despite everything that happened, I enjoyed Simon’s company and had come to think of him as my friend. I still stomped along the path but eventually eased back into a moderately pissy stroll.

  I left the trees behind and didn’t stop until I reached the end of the dock. The sun peeked out after last night’s storm, casting a silver light on the water.

  I heard him approach and stop just behind me. I took one more deep breath. He was silent.

  “You’re not going to push me in, are you? That would be a bad move, Simon.” He exhaled a laugh, and I smiled a little, not wanting to, but not able to help it.

  “Caroline, can I explain about last night? I need to you know that—”

  “Just don’t, okay? Can’t we just chalk it up to the wine?” I asked, whirling about to face him and trying to beat him to the punch.

  He stared down at me with the strangest look on his face. He looked like he’d gotten dressed in a hurry: white thermal, well-worn jeans, and hiking boots that weren’t even laced up, the strings now damp and muddy from the trek through the woods. Still, he was stunning, the early-morning sun illuminating the strong planes of his face and that scruff that was so delicious.

  “I wish I could, Caroline, but—” he started again.

  I shook my head. “Seriously, Simon, just—” I began, but stopped when he pressed his fingers against my mouth.

  “You have to shut up, okay? You keep interrupting me, and watch how fast you get tossed in that very lake,” he warned with the twinkle in his eye I’d become so used to.

  I nodded, and he removed his hand. I tried to ignore the flames that licked at my lips, brought to the surface by just that little touch.

  “So last night we came really close to making a very big mistake,” he said, and when he saw my mouth begin to open, he wagged his finger at me.

  I zipped my lip, miming throwing the key into the water. He smiled sadly and continued.

  “Obviously I’m attracted to you. How could I not be? You’re amazing. But you were drunk, I was drunk, and as great as it would have been, it would have—ah, it would have changed things, you know? And I just can’t, Caroline. I can’t allow myself to . . . I just . . .” He struggled, running his hands through his hair in a gesture I’d come to understand as frustration. He stared at me, willing me to make this o
kay, to tell him we were okay.

  Did I want to lose a friend over this? No way.

  “Hey, like I said, it’s cool—too much wine. Besides, I know you have your arrangement, and I can’t . . . Things just got away from me last night,” I explained, trying to sell it to him.

  He opened his mouth to comment, but after a moment he nodded and sighed a great sigh. “We still friends? I don’t want this to get weird for us. I really like you, Caroline,” he asked, looking as though his world was about to come to an end.

  “Of course—friends. What else would we be?” I swallowed hard and forced a smile. He smiled too, and we began to walk back up the trail. Okay, that wasn’t too bad. Maybe this could work. He stopped to pick up a handful of sand from the beach and put it in a little plastic baggie.

  “Bottles?”

  “Bottles.” He nodded, and we started up the path.

  “So it looks like our little plan worked,” I began, searching for conversation.

  “With those guys? Oh yeah, I think it worked well. They seem to have found what they needed.”

  “That’s all anyone’s trying to do, right?” I laughed as we crossed the patio to the kitchen. Four heads disappeared from the window and began to assume positions of nonchalance around the table. I chuckled.

  “Always good when what you need and what you want are the same things,” Simon said, holding the door open for me.

  “Boy, did you say a mouthful.” A pang of sadness hit me again, but I didn’t have to force the smile once I saw how happy my friends were.

  “You want some breakfast? There are still some cinnamon buns, I think,” Simon offered, walking over to the counter.

  “Um, no. I think I’m gonna go pack, get my stuff together,” I said, noticing a flash of disappointment cross his face before he smiled bravely.

  Okay, so this wasn’t great. Well, that’s what happens when two friends kiss. Things are never the same. I nodded at my girls and headed for my room.

  Spurred by my insistence about getting back to the city, within two hours we were all packed and deciding who was going to ride with whom. I didn’t want to ride alone with Simon, so I pulled Mimi aside and instructed her to bring Ryan along with us. Now we were all outside arranging bags. As Simon piled everything into the Land Rover, I shivered a little, realizing too late that I’d packed my fleece jacket into my bag, which was now buried. As he turned back toward me, he noticed.

  “You cold?”

  “A little, but it’s fine. My bag’s at the bottom, and I don’t want you to have to rearrange everything,” I answered, stamping my foot to keep warm.

  “Oh! That reminds me, I have something for you,” he exclaimed, rummaging in his bag, which was on top. He handed me a lumpy package, wrapped in brown paper.

  “What’s this?” I asked, as he blushed deeply. Simon does blush? I rarely saw that. . . .

  “You didn’t think I forgot this, did you?” he replied, his hair falling into his eyes a little as he smiled a boyish smile. “I was going to give it to you last night, but then—”

  “Hey, Parker! Could use a little help over here!” Neil called as he struggled to load all of Sophia’s luggage. Yesterday, this would have been Ryan’s job. Now it was Neil’s. Yesterday. How the world had changed in one day.

  He backed away from me as Mimi and Ryan got themselves settled in the backseat.

  I opened the package to find a very thick, very soft Irish sweater. I lifted it out of the paper, feeling the weight and the nubbly texture of the weave. I pressed it against my nose, inhaling the scent of wool and unmistakable Simon that clung to it. I grinned into the sweater, then quickly slipped it over my T-shirt, admiring the way it hung loose and low, yet still wrapped me in a comforting way. I turned to see Simon watching me from over at Neil’s truck. He smiled as I twirled for him.

  “Thank you,” I mouthed.

  “You’re welcome,” he mouthed back.

  I gave my sweater a long, deep sniff, hoping no one noticed.

  chapter fourteen

  Inside a black Land Rover on the way back to San Francisco . . .

  CAROLINE: Okay, I can do this. . . . It’s only a few hours back into the city. I can be the bigger person here. I can act like he didn’t pull an all stop at the thought of seeing my tatas last night—and what the hell? What man says no to tatas? I mean, they’re nice tatas. They were pushed up nice and tight, and they were wet, for Christ’s sake. . . . Why didn’t he want my tatas? Caroline, just settle down. . . . Just smile at him and act like everything is fine. Wait, he’s looking over here. Smile! Okay, he smiled back. . . . Stupid tata turner-downer. . . . I mean, what’s up with that? And he was hard!

  SIMON: She’s smiling at me. . . . I can smile back at her, right? I mean, we’re acting natural, right? Okay, done. I hope that looked more natural than it felt. Jesus, who knew a giant sweater would look so good on a girl. . . . But everything looks pretty good on Caroline—especially that green bikini. Did I really turn her down last night? God, it would have been so easy to just . . . But then I couldn’t. Why couldn’t I??? Jesus, Simon. Well, we were drunk. . . . Correction, she was drunk. Would she have regretted it? She might have. Couldn’t risk it. Might have been a bit of a disaster. . . . Or was it the girls? I shouldn’t do that to the girls either. But it’s not even really working so well with the girls these days, now is it? Huh, I didn’t think about them once this weekend . . . because I couldn’t stop thinking about Caroline. She’s looking at me again. . . . What the hell are we going to talk about the whole way back to the city? Ryan isn’t even paying attention. Bastard. I told him he needed to help me out. . . . He’s helping himself to a handful of Mimi. I’m almost sorry Caroline and I worked so hard to push them together. Hmm . . . Caroline and I . . . Caroline and me in a hot tub where bikinis are outlawed. . . . Jesus, wait a minute—yep, now I’ve got a semi. . . .

  CAROLINE: Why is he twitching like that? Jesus, does he have to pee? Maybe I have to pee. Maybe this would be a good time to suggest a pee break. . . . Then I can grab Mimi and make sure she knows the reason they’re riding with us is not so they can suck face the whole way but to run interference for me with Scared of Tatas over there. Okay, just ask him to pull over at the next gas station. Wow, he really does have to pee, I guess. I hope this gas station has Gardetto’s.

  SIMON: Thank God she wanted to stop. Now I can adjust without looking like a pervert. . . . Oh, who am I kidding? I am a pervert. I’m riding in a car with a woman who was straddling me last night and just the thought of it makes me hard. Pervert, pervert, pervert. I hope this gas station has Gardetto’s.

  MIMI: Ooh! We’re stopping! I hope this gas station has bubble gum!

  RYAN: Oh man, we’re stopping already? We’re not going to make it back to the city before dark. Mimi wants me to see her place, and I’m really hoping that means walk around naked and let me watch. . . . I hope this gas station has condoms.

  CAROLINE: Okay, you could have handled that a little better. Mimi suggesting you and Simon split the big bag of Gardetto’s was not that big of a deal. Am I a little sensitive today? Yes, I suppose I am. . . . But I know for a fact that Simon was checking out my ass as I walked away from the car. Why the hell is he checking out my ass now? Last night he didn’t even want to peek under my bikini. Is he really that complicated? Why the hell is he looking at me? He’s reaching his hand out. Stay still, Caroline, stay still. . . . Oh, sesame seed on my chin. Well, if you weren’t looking at my mouth, Mr. Mixed Messages, you wouldn’t even have noticed it. You will never get this sesame seed now, buddy. Damn! Why does this sweater have to smell so good? I hope he hasn’t noticed me sniffing this sweater the whole way.

  SIMON: She’s really sniffly today. I hope she isn’t catching a cold. We spent so much time outside this weekend. . . . I would hate for her to come down with something. She just sniffled again. Should I offer her a Kleenex?

  MIMI: Busted, Caroline. I totally knew you were sniffing that sweater.


  RYAN: I wonder if Mimi has any more of that bubble gum? I hope she didn’t notice me buying those condoms. I mean, I don’t want to be presumptuous. But I definitely want to be under her again sometime very, very soon. Who knew someone so tiny could be so loud . . . and now I’m hard.

  MIMI: Ryan Hall . . . Mimi Reyes Hall . . . Mimi Hall . . . Mimi Reyes-Hall . . .

  CAROLINE: Okay, Caroline, time to have that difficult conversation—with yourself. Why exactly did you throw yourself at Simon last night? Was it the wine? Was it the music? The voodoo? Was it the combination of all those things? Okay, okay, no more bullshit. I did it because . . . because . . . Fuck, I need some more Gardetto’s.

  SIMON: She’s so pretty. I mean, there’s pretty and then there’s pretty . . . What a pussy I am. Fuck pretty—she’s beautiful . . . pussy . . . And she smells good . . . pussy . . . Why do some girls just smell better? Some girls smell like flowery, fruity bullshit. I mean, why would some girls want to smell like a mango? Why should a girl smell like a mango? Maybe if I think the word mango enough I won’t think about pussy anymore. Caroline . . . mango . . . Caroline . . . pussy . . . God! And now I’m hard. . . .

  CAROLINE: He looks like he needs to pee again. . . . He’s drinking too much coffee. He’s had like six cups already from that thermos. That’s funny. . . . He never has a second cup at home. Why the hell do I know how many cups of coffee he drinks? Face it, Caroline, you know so much about him because . . . because . . .

  RYAN: Dude, we’re stopping again? We are never gonna make it home. My boy is having some serious issues today. . . . I should probably see if he wants to get a beer or something when we get back—in case he wants to come clean about what really happened last night. Should I offer? Wow, Mimi looks fantastic in those pants. . . . I wonder if she’s buying more bubble gum.

  MIMI: Stop sniffing your sweater, Caroline! Seriously, girl. If I could just get her alone. . . . Okay, Simon seems to be hobbling toward the men’s room. I can get her alone by the beef jerky.