Different Roads

by Lori L. Clark

  Right outside the backroom at Pete’s there are two pool tables and an old jukebox. When I slinked through the door separating the two rooms, everyone stopped what they were doing and all eyes zeroed in on me. I’m sure it was because of the female voices behind me shouting out such eloquent phrases as: “Oh yeah baby. Let me feel that tight ass,” or “Take it all off you stud,” booming loud and clear through the opened door.

  The blood drained from my face and I stared at my feet as I made my way quickly through the gawking mass of bewildered men. I was almost to the bar when two black leather booted feet parked right under my floor-staring nose, stopping me in my tracks. Slowly, I tipped my eyes into the cocky, smirking face of Damon Blackwell.

  “Excuse you,” I snipped at him, and tried to sidestep around the brick wall of his body.

  “Awe Jaq, what’s your damn hurry?” He grinned and repositioned himself in front of me.

  “There’s a bottle of tequila at the bar with my name on it,” I said as I planted my fists on my hips. “I believe the last time you tried to keep me from the tequila it earned you a punch in the face. Want to try for seconds?”

  He grabbed hold of my wrist, “I don’t do seconds, Jaq,” he sneered before flinging my arm away from him like it disgusted him to touch me.

  “Fuck, who are you kidding Blackwell?” I said over my shoulder. “You’d do whoever dropped her panties for you. Seconds or otherwise.”

  I hadn’t realized we’d drawn the attention of several people until I heard the snickers and someone clapped Damon on the back saying, “Damn Damon, losing your touch a little bit there?” Which of course drew more laughter and taunting. I bit the inside of my cheek and seated myself at the bar.

  I didn’t really want another shot of tequila since I had already had just enough to give me a comfortably numb feeling. One more and I’d teeter right off that edge and do a face plant later on. “Just a glass of ice water for now,” I told the bartender.

  Taking a sip of my water, I felt someone’s eyes burning into me from across the bar. I chanced a quick glance in his direction and he took it as an invitation to move over next to me. “Hey. Don’t I know you?” he asked, studying my face.

  “Hey, didn’t anyone tell you that’s a lame pick-up line?” I said meeting his dark eyes.

  “Yeah, I do know you,” he smiled. “You go out with Seth Thomas.”

  All the alcohol I’d consumed earlier congealed into a gooey blob in the bottom of my stomach and I swallowed a few times to keep it from coming up. “Not anymore,” I said barely louder than a whisper. There was a loud crack as a hand smacked down on the bar right beside my arm nearly scaring me out of my skin.

  “Yeah and he’s a damn fool, if you ask me,” Damon said so softly, I wasn’t sure I’d heard him right.

  My eyebrows drew into a frown, “What did you say?”

  “I said he’s a damn fool for dumping you the way he did,” he repeated and motioned for the bartender to bring him another Budweiser.

  “Some guys just don’t know what they have until they don’t have it anymore,” the original guy pointed out. When I shot him a look, it dawned on me that I did recognize him. It was Andy Miller from the night Seth and I went four-wheelin’. “Why’d you guys break up?” Andy asked.

  I shrugged, “I Wish I knew the answer to that million dollar question.”

  “You don’t really want to know that answer,” Damon said as he started to walk away with his beer.

  I spun around on my barstool and hooked my finger through his belt loop, stopping him in his tracks, “Hold up there Blackwell. What are you trying to say?”

  He didn’t try to pull out of the hold I had on him, but he didn’t turn to face me either. I watched his shoulders stiffen, “I’m just saying Seth is a fuckin’ idiot to get back with Bethany Tyler.”

  I released the hold I had on Damon’s pants and my mouth dropped to my chest simultaneously. Bethany Tyler. I wasn’t sure if that was psycho ex number one, of restraining order fame or psycho ex number two, of keying my car fame. When I recovered my composure, I slid off the barstool and followed blindly behind Damon. “You’re a lying bastard,” I hissed, poking my finger into his chest.

  “Sorry, I thought you already knew,” he said. The steely glint in his eyes made it clear to me that he was lying. Not about Seth being back with Bethany, but thinking I already knew about it. “If it makes you feel any better, every guy within a hundred mile radius thinks he’s a freaking dick-weed for dumping you for that skank.”

  “No,” I whispered.

  “No what?” Damon cocked an eyebrow at me.

  “No, it doesn’t fucking make me feel any better,” I said and brushed past him into the back room filled with sex-crazed women. I dug into my pocket for a wad of cash and waved a dollar in the air. I whistled loudly to get the half-naked guy’s attention. “Don’t you think it’s about my turn?”

  Chapter 22

  Acceptance is the fifth stage of grief and after talking to Damon at the bar the other night, I finally came to the realization that Seth was never coming back and it was time for me to move on. My idea of moving on, however, was not the same as Shelley’s definition. The whole over-under thing didn’t really appeal to me right now.

  I didn’t necessarily want to be with someone, but I was tired of being cooped up in the house like some sort of reclusive outcast. I was only twenty years old, and it was time to start living again. So when Shelley begged me to go with her and Tim down to southern Illinois for a weekend of camping, hiking, fishing, and just getting away from it all, I figured why the hell not?

  Of course, Shelley neglected to mention that there were about twenty or so other people also heading down with us. Shelley’s not a liar. She just forgets to clue me in on all of the details sometimes. Especially when she knows that I’m not going to like what it is she has planned.

  I was looking forward to roughing it for a few days. Although the cabins weren’t really roughing it, considering they were pretty modern, complete with electricity and indoor plumbing. I made sure to pack my hiking gear and I picked up the fishing equipment from my mom’s garage the day before we were scheduled to leave.

  December had been filled with days that were warmer than usual. According to the weather forecasts the unseasonably warm weather was supposed to hang around through the weekend and be in the upper-fifties.

  “We’re taking Tim’s truck, right?” I asked.

  “Not exactly,” Shelley said, all the while pretending to take inventory of her bags by the door to avoid looking at me directly.

  My forehead creased into a frown and I folded my arms in front of me, “What do you mean, not exactly?”

  Before she could fess up and let me in on the surprise she had in store, an air horn blasted from the street in front of our house and Shelley giggled, “Our chariot awaits, Cinderella.” She flung open the door to reveal an old yellow school bus with big black smiley face decals plastered all over it. From what I could see from the front door, there were several people already on board.

  “What the hell did I let you talk me into this time?” I sighed and shook my head.

  She took my hand and pulled me down the sidewalk toward our chariot, “Oh lighten up. It’ll be fun!”

  Tim hopped down from behind the wheel of the bus and gave Shelley a quick kiss. He shrugged his shoulders at me, “Sorry, Jaq. She wanted you to be surprised. She didn’t think you’d go if you knew there was a whole group of us going.”

  I puffed my cheeks and let out a noisy breath, “This should be interesting,” I conceded and grabbed my fishing gear to load into the back of the bus. Once everything was loaded, I climbed the steps. I didn’t even bother to scope out the rest of the passengers, I just sat down in the front seat right behind Tim and Shelley slid in beside me.

  “Mad?” she asked.

  “Nope,” I muttered and gave her a sideways glance. “I don’t get mad. I get even. And I remember how much you love grasshopp
ers.” I’m pretty sure the color drained from her face instantaneously, and she might have even peed in her pants a little. Exactly the reaction I was going for. Satisfied, I stuffed a pillow between my head and the window and decided to rest for a little while since we had about a three hour ride ahead of us.

  “Wake up sleeping beauty,” a vaguely familiar but not immediately recognizable voice whispered in my ear sometime later. “We’re here.”

  I squeezed my eyes tight. I so did not want to face the man behind that smooth as warm butter voice. The voice famous for talking horny women everywhere out of their panties for a night on board the Damon Blackwell fuck train. “If I knew you were going to be here, I would have stayed home and watched sappy Lifetime movies all weekend.”

  “No you wouldn’t,” he bumped his shoulder against mine. “Who knows, maybe I’ll finally get to hear you scream out my name later tonight.”

  My eyes shot open before they narrowed again, “And then, you can tell everyone what you dreamed the next night, because my sleeping with you is so not going to happen.”

  “You got that right sweet cheeks. There definitely won’t be any sleeping involved,” he chuckled and hopped up before I could take a swing at his smug-ass face.

  I shot Shelley a poisonous glare and poked my finger into her chest, “Do not, I repeat, do not let me get so drunk that he starts to look good enough to do stupid stuff with.”

  Shelley’s face split into a wide grin, “Oh Jaq, admit it. Damon Blackwell looks good enough to do stupid stuff with all the time. You could always just use him for sex. Make him think it’s his idea and then forget all about it when you get back home.”

  “Yeah. No,” I muttered.

  Chapter 23

  It was mid-morning by the time we arrived at Paradise Chateaus. What a laugh. Paradise? Seriously? I mean it was a nice enough area, very scenic, but hardly paradise. And the Chateaus? Yeah. Cabins. Extremely rustic cabins. I slung my bag over my shoulder and made my way up the narrow sidewalk toward the cabin I would be sharing.

  Just inside the door, I stopped to scope the place out. Shelley squeezed in beside me, “It sleeps six,” she announced cheerfully.

  I glanced around, and my eyes landed on a narrow ladder that led up to a loft with one full-sized bed. “Since I know how you hate heights I’ll just take that bed,” I said and nodded toward the loft.

  “Just drop your stuff, and meet us down by the dock,” Shelley said. “Tim’s anxious to get some fishing in.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be down in a few minutes,” I waved her off dismissively. I climbed the ladder and tossed my bag on the bed, claiming my spot for the weekend. I took a deep breath of the stale air inside the cabin and tucked a few stray strands of hair that had worked free of my hair tie back into place. I pulled a worn baseball cap — one of Seth’s — out of the side pocket of my duffle bag and put it on, pulling my ponytail through at the back. I stepped slowly down the ladder and froze in my tracks when I heard a wolf-whistle.

  “Nice view,” Damon laughed. “Ya know it’s hard to picture that ass of yours without my hands framing it.

  I rolled my eyes, “Tell me one thing, Damon,” I said as I turned to face his leering grin. “Do you go out of your way to be an asshole, or is it a natural gift of yours?”

  He threw back his head and laughed, “It’s a gift. And I am a natural,” he paused, his eyes turning dark. “If you’d give me about five minutes, I’ll show you just how gifted I really am baby.”

  Now it was my turn to laugh, “Five minutes? Really? I should have known you were one of those guys.”

  His eyes narrowed into slits, “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

  I walked over to him and cupped his face in my hands, “Means it takes a helluva lot longer than five minutes to satisfy me baby,” I leaned in close enough that I felt the warmth of his breath against my cheek. I knew I was flirting with disaster being that close to him and breathing in his intoxicating scent. I wasn’t afraid that he might call my bluff. I was more afraid that I might give in to the strong physical attraction I’d felt for him since the first time we met.

  His hands came around my waist and he yanked me against his rock hard chest, “Play with fire baby, you’re gonna get burned.”

  “Hey Jaq…” Shelley started to say as she walked back in on us. “Whoops, sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt.”

  “You didn’t,” I said and wriggled free of Damon’s hold. Less than a minute in such close proximity to his very maleness and my body temperature had kicked it up a notch — or ten. “I’m coming.”

  “Pfft, not yet, but I’ll definitely take a rain check on that,” Damon whispered behind me, spreading warmth all the way down to my toes.

  I hurried away from him and grabbed my fishing pole and tackle box, “Let’s go drown some worms,” I smiled at Shelley.

  As soon as we were outside, Shelley folded her arms in front of her chest, “I don’t think Damon Blackwell’s the kind of guy to let a woman tease him for very long before he starts demanding a little return on his investment.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “And the more I’m around him, the more I wish he’d just pin me down and have his way with me.”

  “Now you’re talking,” she nodded. “I think you need to go for it, see if he’s as good as he seems to think he is.”

  I took a deep breath and blew it out through clenched teeth, “He scares me a little bit.”

  “Scares you? What are you afraid of?”

  A wide grin crept across my face, “Afraid I might like it.”

  She punched me playfully in the shoulder, “No such thing as being too good in bed, I always say.”

  “For someone who’s had, what, maybe three different sex partners her whole life? You sure have a lot of things you always say,” I snickered.

  “Yep,” she bumped her hip against mine and said, “Know what else I always say?”

  “No, what?”

  “The thing about sex is, even the worse I ever had was still damn good,” she giggled.

  “It would have to be fan-freaking-tastic to be better than what I had with Seth,” I said quietly.

  She stopped walking and put her hand on my arm, “Stop right now. I do not want to hear that man’s name come out of your mouth the rest of this weekend.” I opened my mouth to defend myself, and she held up her hand waving me off. “I mean it. Not one word. And no more comparison sex either.”

  “No more? What do you mean no more? I haven’t had any sex to compare,” I huffed.

  “You need to blot what’s-his-name right out of your memory, and get on with your life, Jaq. At least for a few days,” she said, winking at me as Damon approached. “And this is as good a time as any to get started.”

  Chapter 24

  As we got closer to the water, Shelley wandered over to sit with Tim. Damon turned left and headed toward a cluster of guys. I avoided everyone and took a right to put some distance between myself and Damon. I followed along the water’s edge until instinct told me to park my butt on an old log that had washed ashore. Comfortable, I settled in to fish and just be alone with my thoughts.

  I sat there for maybe an hour staring out across the small, still lake. The fish weren’t biting, or at least I didn’t think they were. Hell, some sneaky crappie could have stolen my bait a long time ago, and I probably wouldn’t have even noticed. I didn’t care. It’s not like my heart was into it that much anyway.

  I heard him coming before he actually arrived, but I pretended not to notice though I had to admit, he smelled better than the fish bait and dank water in front of me. I felt the heat radiate off his body as he stood behind me, so close his legs brushed against my back. His hand on my shoulder made me stiffen momentarily until he waved a beer in front of my face. “Beer for your memories Jaq?”

  I turned to look up at Damon and shielded my eyes from the sun with my hand, “Thanks,” I snatched the bottle from him before he changed his mind about giving it to me. “Don’t m
ind if I do.”

  Uninvited, he plopped down next to me on the log and stretched his legs out in front of him. “At least the beer’s cold,” he said.

  “That it is,” I agreed and tipped my head back for a big gulp. “I guess the fish just aren’t biting today.”

  “Thank God,” he grinned. I glanced at him through narrowed eyes. “Think about it. Who the fuck wants to clean and cook a bunch of stinking fish anyway?”

  I snorted, “Not me. I don’t even eat the stuff. It tastes too fishy for me.”

  He raised an eyebrow and a smile flirted with the edges of his mouth, “There are so many bad things I could say right now.”

  I rolled my eyes, “I can only imagine where that guttermind of yours is headed.”

  He held up his beer, “To dirty minds everywhere.”

  “To dirty minds,” I said and clinked my bottle against his. “Not that I have one, of course.”

  He threw back his head and laughed heartily, “Of course not.”

  We were silent for awhile. I reeled in my line and checked to make sure the bait was still there, and it was. “I guess I picked a shitty spot to fish,” I sighed and sat the pole down next to me on the ground. “Story of my life.”

  Damon shot me a questioning glance, “What do you mean?”

  “Sometimes I just don’t make the best choices, I guess.” For some reason I was starting to feel all philosophical and sorry for myself.

  “How so?” Damon asked.

  I took a deep breath and pushed to my feet, “Nothing. Forget it.”

  His hand darted out and wrapped around my wrist gently, “You mean about that loser Seth Thomas? That douche fucked up big time when he let you go.”

  Still very aware of his calloused fingers on my arm, a small smile crept across my face and my traitorous heart sped up. I asked, “Douche? Did you just call my ex-boyfriend a douche?”

  He yanked me down onto his lap and his eyes burned into mine. He waved his free hand around the general area, “All this beauty and you want to spoil it by dredging up shit that should just be buried and forgotten.”