by Robin Kaye
Ben couldn’t help but smile. “Here with you. I can hardly take the next bedroom. Gramps is in there. I think he’ll notice.”
She shook her head, her bangs flying to and fro and then rearranging perfectly, tapering down to her cheekbone.
“Whatever happened to the bed being as big as your first apartment? I’ll stay on my side, you won’t even know I’m there.”
“Sleeping together wasn’t part of the deal.”
“Yeah, and neither was flying. Things change and we have to improvise.”
“Improvisation? Is that what you call it?”
“Whatever works.” He pulled his suit jacket off and hung it in the closet before he emptied his pockets on her dresser. She rummaged through a drawer full of nightclothes. Ben had spent long sleepless nights imagining what she wore to bed. He’d pictured her in everything from flannel grannies to peek-a-boo nightgowns and unfortunately for him, she looked hot in all of them. He purposely didn’t look at what she’d picked out. He wanted to be under the covers before he got a load of Gina in sleepwear. As it was, he was glad his trousers were pleated. It was going to be a long night.
Ben brought his shaving kit to the double vanity and brushed his teeth. Gina walked past and slammed the door to the bathroom. He heard the shower running as he stripped down to his boxer-briefs and wondered what side of the bed she preferred. Since he couldn’t tell, he slid to the center.
Gina emerged from the steamy bathroom wearing a tight, pink, racer-back tank night gown, which ended at mid-thigh but left nothing to the imagination. God help him. She turned off the lights and climbed in on the side closest to the bathroom, opened her bedside table drawer, took out a black satin sleep mask, and donned it.
“I can’t believe you wear that thing to bed. I thought people only wore those in the movies.”
She raised the mask to her forehead and glared. “I can’t believe you’re in my bed and you actually have the balls to talk to me when I was doing such a great job ignoring your presence.”
“Why do you wear it?”
She pulled her bangs out from under the elastic. “Why do you care?”
“Just curious, I guess.”
“I sleep better when I can’t see the clock.”
Her reason was insane. “You can if you lift the mask.”
“But I don’t.”
“Then why not just stop looking at the clock?”
“Why not just stop bothering me?” Gina crossed her arms, giving him a great cleavage shot.
Ben did his best to keep his eyes on hers. “Because I’m on Mountain Time and it’s not even 10:00 there.”
“And this is my problem because?”
“It’s your problem because, like it or not, you’re sleeping with me.”
“Hold on.” Gina held up her hands as if to stop him. “This is my bed so you’re sleeping with me. And believe me, I don’t like it. I don’t like anything about this. How could your grandfather turn around and pull a stunt like forcing me to go on a honeymoon and get away with it?”
“Gina, not to point out the obvious, but money talks and he has about seven billion ways to make people listen. Every one of them works.”
“You know,” her hands flew, punctuating every point, “I told you this whole marriage thing was a mistake.”
Ben put his arm around her and then regretted the action. Damn, she was so tiny, his arm could wrap all the way around her. She leaned into him and tucked her head beneath his chin. Her breasts were pillowed against his side and his dick jumped. Shit.
“It’s a shame.”
Ben found his voice. “What is—the marriage?”
“No, the fact that you’re gay. If you weren’t, at least I’d have something to do to keep myself from thinking about the possibility of getting on a plane in the morning.”
“Go to sleep, Gina.” He hoped his voice didn’t sound as strained to her as it did to him.
She curled up next to him, pulled down her mask, and was asleep in less time than it took him to stop tenting the sheet. It didn’t help that the soap she used was a jasmine scented musk that made him want to just inhale her.
The king-sized bed seemed to shrink with Gina in it. Who knew such a little thing could take up so much room? She was a complete bed hog. No matter how far Ben slid over, she followed like a cat follows the sun. All night he did his darnedest to stay away from her but he’d awaken with her curled up against him.
“Get off of me!”
Ben opened one eye and found himself practically on top of his wife. Thank God only the upper half of his body was touching her. She’d have a hell of a shock if the lower half were.
“Sorry.”
Gina slid away from him. “You’re sorry?”
Ben pulled the sheet up to cover any evidence of his incapacitation and ran his hand through his hair. “Don’t you dare blame this on me. Look at where you are. I’m practically falling off the damn bed. Can I help it if you’re on my side?”
Gina moved like she had a fire under her and ran to the bathroom. Ben willed the vision of her bouncing around the room out of his mind. He needed to get up and get his pants on before she returned. He quickly did, brushed his teeth, and went down to the kitchen. When he trudged in, he was greeted by his grandfather sitting at the table with a copy of the Post spread out and a cup of coffee. Great, the other person he didn’t want to see first thing in the morning.
“Sleep well?”
Ben rubbed his stubbled chin. “Not especially. You?” He stared at the old guy through bleary eyes as he searched the cabinets for a mug. He found it on the third try, poured coffee, and drank it down in one gulp. He couldn’t stand small mugs.
“I slept like a baby. How long do you think it’ll take for Gina to get packed?”
Ben shrugged. “I have no idea. She’s not happy about you forcing her to fly. She wants to go by bus.”
Gramps shook his head. “You’ve got to get a tight rein on that little filly of yours now, or you’ll regret it, believe you me.”
Ben looked up from his coffee and caught his grandfather’s eye. “You better not let Gina hear you talking about her like that. That filly has one heck of a kick.”
Ben should know. When she hadn’t been snuggling up to him, she’d been kicking him. Her pretty red toenails might look sexy as hell, but they were lethal.
“Shit, she’s just a cute little pixie.”
“Yeah, a pixie with a machete.”
The kitchen door swished closed and Ben winced.
“Do you two always talk about women behind their backs?”
Shit. He turned around and found Gina standing in her normal pose, her hand on her cocked hip, her black and white silk skull and crossbones robe hanging open, showing off the breast he’d had pillowed against his chest and side all night in the tight pink tank dress that she’d worn to bed. “Only you, sweetheart.” He reached up, pulled another mug from the cupboard, and filled it with coffee. He didn’t know how she took it. He handed the steaming cup to her and let out a sigh of relief when she drank it black. That’s probably the only simple thing the woman did.
“Morning, Joe.”
Gramps took a good long gander at Gina and Ben had the urge to cover her. No wonder he’d never wanted to get married.
“Well now, aren’t you a sight for sore old eyes?” Gramps winked at Ben. “There are worse things to wake up to, huh Ben?”
He decided to take the fifth.
Gina released the death-hold she had on her coffee cup, set it on the counter, wrapped the short robe around her, and tied the sash. Not that it helped, it only made Ben want to unwrap her. He tried to think of something else. It didn’t work.
***
After watching Gina pack almost every piece of clothing she owned, Ben got her into the limo and poured her shots of vodka the entire way to the airport. It wasn’t a long enough drive.
“There’s not enough vodka in the world to induce me to step foot on that plane.” She
motioned outside the limo to the sixteen-passenger Gulfstream G550.
Ben pushed another shot toward her. Thank God Gramps’ car came with a full bar.
“Bottoms up.” Ben needed to get her mind off the plane and onto something else. She already had half a bag on, along with a very short jean skirt, a tight turquoise T-shirt which read, “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” under a short brown suede jacket replete with turquoise and silver beaded fringe and matching turquoise high-heeled cowboy boots with what looked like fake spurs that spun with every step. He hadn’t said anything before because she was a tad overwrought, but now he saw it as his last defense.
“What the heck are you wearing, by the way?”
“What is this? An episode of Queer Eye for the Straight Girl? I’m wearing my cowboy garb, why?”
Ben laughed. “Sweetheart, you have a lot to learn about cowboys, though I can’t say I know any who would object to the way you look.”
After getting her to down a couple more shots, he wondered if he should have forced her to eat something before they left. He pulled a pack of crackers out of the built-in cabinet. He wasn’t sure what they’d stocked in the Gulfstream. If he knew his grandfather, he probably made sure there was a big prime rib dinner with all the fixins. With any luck, Gina would sleep through it.
“Here, eat a few of these. You don’t get motion sickness, do you?”
“How do I know?” Her speech was beginning to slur, a good or a bad sign depending upon how he looked at it. “There’s not much time on a cross-town bus to figure that out. I’m good on subways, even standing backward.”
“How do you stand backward?”
“You know, with my back facing the direction the train is going. Backwards.”
Ben just nodded and wondered how much she usually drank. “Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you strapped in.”
Gina tilted her head, smiled, and blinked her glassy eyes at him. “Can’t we just hijack the limo? It’d be a fun ride and maybe you could show me the sights, like that mountain with all the presidents’ faces carved in it. That would be cool, huh?”
Ben opened the door and pulled her out along with him. “Not this time, Gina. Maybe next time.”
“You’re no fun. I was thinking we could get a big picture of President Obama, like a huge one,” she threw her arms out wide to demonstrate and almost hit him in the face, “and hang it up next to what’s his name… the last guy.”
“Lincoln or Washington?”
“Of course you would know the presidents on the end. You’re a living, breathing Wikipedia. I bet you even know the ones in the middle.”
She leaned more on him than on her own two feet. He wasn’t sure if it was due to the vodka or those ridiculous boots. He picked her up. “Thomas Jefferson and Teddy Roosevelt.”
“Was he the one in the wheelchair?”
“No, that was Franklin Roosevelt.”
“Why are you carrying me?”
“Because you’ll never manage the bus steps in those boots.”
“You forgot my purse.”
Ben had his hands full of a very wiggly woman who seemed intent on rubbing her hip against his crotch. It was a good thing she was too drunk to realize the effect she was having on him. He looked inside the limo and sure enough, there was a purse the size of his suitcase. He leaned her in far enough to allow her to grab it, adjusted his stance to accommodate the added weight, and hightailed it up the steps of the jet.
Ducking his head, he stepped aboard and carried her through the ebony galley sideways.
“Would you look at this place? You should have told me it was ebony and turquoise. I would have worn my black leather instead of my suede. I could have matched.”
Sure enough, the countertops were made from a marble-like turquoise material. Leave it to Gina to notice.
“This is a really, really nice bus.”
“Yeah, that’s right, Gina. It’s a luxury liner bus.” He sat her down and buckled her in tight before he shut the window shade.
Ben spotted his grandfather who’d had a few things in town to take care of before meeting them on the plane. “Gramps, it might be a good time to tell the driver to get this bus moving.” He took the seat next to Gina just as her head dropped against his shoulder.
The jet engines whined to life and Gina’s head came up. “It’s an awful weird sounding bus.”
The jet taxied to the runway. “Just close your eyes and go to sleep.” Ben prayed silently that she’d doze off before they received clearance for takeoff.
“Gramps, did you tell the bus driver to keep the chatter to a minimum?”
“I can.”
Ben rolled his eyes. Gramps was having far too much fun with this. “Please do.”
Gramps picked up the phone and called the pilot. “Johnny, let’s keep the chatter in the main cabin to a minimum. Ben’s got the little lady thinking we’re on a bus.” He put the phone down and laughed. “You’re gonna be in some deep shit whenever she comes down from whatever it is you’ve got her on.”
“I wouldn’t laugh too hard about that, Gramps. She just drank enough vodka to drown a good-sized man. Let’s hope she can keep the stuff down.”
The cabin speakers clicked on. “We’ve got clearance to leave the um… terminal. If you haven’t already, please buckle your seat belts. Over.”
Ben stretched out his legs, put his arm around Gina as her head rested against his chest, and placed his hand over her ear to muffle the whine of the engines. The jet lunged forward, the g-force pushing them back into their seats. Ben tried in vain to find a decent receptacle should Gina fail to hold her liquor as they were thrust down the runway at 175 knots. The wheels left the ground and, seconds later, the landing gear retracted. Ben thanked God the pilot didn’t break any records reaching cruising altitude. When they leveled out, Ben pushed Gina’s seat back down to lounge, loosened her seat belt, and gently slid her off his chest. She curled up next to him, tucked her arm around his, and grumbled something unintelligible. Ben unbuckled his seat belt, slipped his arm out of her grasp, and stood, wondering which would be safer: to leave Gina sleeping in her seat or carry her back to the bed in the back of the jet.
“What’s goin’ through that mind of yours, Ben? Wonderin’ if she’ll come to in time to join the mile-high club?”
Ben’s head whipped around to his grandfather. But when he saw the old guy’s eyes sparkling, he couldn’t help but laugh. “She’s bombed, Gramps. I don’t take advantage of inebriated women.”
“Aw, hell, son. When you’re married, that’s allowed. Shit, it’s expected.”
“And you would know, right? How many years has it been since you had a wife?”
“Too many to count, but some things never change. And that’s one of ’em. You can take that to the bank.”
Ben went to join his grandfather, but stayed close enough to Gina to see if she stirred. He really wasn’t looking forward to her waking up and finding out she was flying on more than just vodka.
“That wife of yours is a wild one. I never figured you’d take on a mustang like her, but seein’ the two of you together, I have to hand it to you, boy. You’ve sure picked a hell of a lady to spend your life tryin’ to tame.”
“Women are not horses, Gramps, and Gina’s definitely untamable. It’s part of her charm.”
Gramps raised his glass, probably filled with whiskey from the looks of it. Ben went to the refrigerator to get a beer and on the way back, he pulled out a blanket and covered Gina. Her short jean skirt seemed to shrink when she curled up in the seat. From the looks of her cheeks peeking out, she was wearing a thong. It was one thing for him to see her ass; he didn’t need his grandfather or a member of the crew to have that pleasure too. Ben tucked her in and pushed the bangs out of her eyes. She looked almost sweet all curled up like that. Unfortunately, he had a feeling that would change just as soon as she awoke. He prayed that happened after they landed in Boise.
***
Gina awoke
with a roaring in her ears as her stomach jumped into her throat. Her mouth felt as if it were filled with cotton balls and she swore she was thirsty enough to drink all the water in the Hudson River. She opened her eyes and saw Ben watching her. “Do not tell me I’m on a plane and not a bus.”
Ben put the newspaper he was holding down, “Okay, I won’t.”
She lifted the weird window shade and saw clouds. “Liar.”
“A plane is nothing more than a bus with wings. You’re fine. See, Gina, you do fly. You’ve been flying for about four hours. We haven’t crashed, there’s been no fireball, and you’re doing great.”
“Did it not occur to you to avoid using words such as crash and fireball when speaking to a nervous, hungover woman who would rather do anything than fly?”
“Anything?”
Ben’s mischievous grin had her wondering what he was thinking about. If he were straight, she’d say kinky sex. She blamed it on her fuzzy gaydar. Obviously, she was mistaken. She pushed the blanket that was tucked around her and tightened the loose seat belt. “I’m so thirsty.”
“I can imagine. You put away a half bottle of Grey Goose.” Ben walked through what looked like a narrow plush living room. When he returned, he had a big bottle of some foreign bubbly water and a couple of Excedrin. “Here, this should help.”
“Thanks.” Gina took the pills and drained the bottle as Ben sat back beside her. She craned her neck looking around. The plane was amazing. She’d only seen things like this in movies.
“We can watch movies, get the news, play video games. Do you like playing X-Box?”
Was he on drugs? Did she look like a person who sat around playing useless games?
“Dinner is in about an hour, but if you’re hungry, I’m sure there are snacks. I’ll call the attendant.”
“You have a flight attendant?”
“Yeah, I cook a lot, but I draw the line at cooking above 10,000 feet.”
“Is there a bathroom?” God, she hoped there was a bathroom on this flying bus because she really had to pee, not to mention brush her teeth.
“Yeah, of course. I’ll take you back there.”
Ben took the empty bottle from her and helped her out of the blanket and seat belt. She had to take evasive action because somehow during the drive, her skirt had ridden up. She was thankful Ben pretended not to notice her shimmying her tight skirt back into place.