Rocky Mountain Mayhem

by Joan Rylen

  Vivian raised her eyebrows up and down a few times. “Let’s go introduce our sexy selves.”

  6

  THE hotel’s Western yet refined lounge, the Tree Bark Bar, was quiet with only three patrons, an older couple drinking martinis, and a man reading the paper, sipping on a beer. The intricately carved antique woodwork caught Vivian’s eye, but the main attraction was the sexy, sandy-blond bartender.

  She sat down in front of the taps where he pulled a pint. Vivian took in his broad shoulders, blue eyes and white teeth and asked what his specialty was.

  “Buttery Nipples,” he replied with a sly smile.

  “Give us a round.”

  “None for me,” Kate said.

  He got to work with the Bailey’s and butterscotch schnapps and set out four shot glasses.

  “What’s your name?” Lucy asked.

  “Eric,” he said and handed Kate a glass of water, three girls a shot and then helped himself to one. Holding it up, he offered a toast, “To my favorite buttery treat.”

  “Yeeeee-haw!” Vivian hollered, then slammed her nipple.

  “So what is there to do around here tonight?” Kate asked Eric.

  “Tonight’s kind of quiet since it’s off-season. There’s a sports bar down the street that would be okay called Bronco’s. Tomorrow night is service industry night at Club Bighorn. Lots of action there, you should go.”

  “Will you be there?” Vivian asked, leaning toward him.

  “If you’re there, I wouldn’t miss it.”

  “I’m looking forward to some Aspen action.”

  “Any suggestions for dinner?” Wendy asked.

  “Great Italian on the corner two streets down. Tell Donatelli I sent you. In fact, their desserts are often compared to…” he leaned across the bar next to Vivian and whispered in her ear, “orgasms.”

  Screw the shot. That sent tingles far beyond anywhere her Buttery Nipple had reached.

  Vivian recovered and ordered another round. “Eric, make us a Tree Bark Bar special.”

  “Comin’ up!” He winked and started mixing liquors into a tin, shook it up and poured the purple, frothy liquid into three chilled martini glasses rimmed with sugar. He floated a lemon twist in the icy layer on top.

  “Lovely,” Wendy said, taking a sip. “And tasty.”

  “What is it?” Kate asked, sniffing Vivian’s.

  “My own little concoction.”

  Lucy held her glass up so that Eric couldn’t see her talking behind it and whispered to Vivian, “It’s his loooove potion.”

  Vivian giggled, took a sip, then asked Eric about himself.

  He was from Montana and had come to Colorado to be a river guide. “Snow’s melting and I’m about done in Aspen,” he said. “In fact, you should raft the Arkansas through the Royal Gorge. There’s enough snow melt to make it worthwhile.”

  Wendy looked apprehensive. “Snow and melt in the same sentence with rafting. I don’t know.”

  “They have wetsuits.”

  “I’ve been down Clear Creek but never Royal Gorge,” Lucy said, sipping her purple drink.

  “I’ve been down the Guadalupe,” Vivian said proudly.

  “Wait, wait, wait. On a tube?” Eric asked.

  “Yeah. But I almost died once. It had rained a lot and the tube rental people told me to go left at the falls but my beer cooler went right, so I went right. I flipped out of my tube but held my beer up. That’s how my friends knew where I was. Thank god for Natty Lite, the homing beacon.”

  “This isn’t the Guadalupe,” Eric said. “In fact, there’s no alcohol allowed. But it’s a rush, nonetheless.”

  “Hey!” Wendy said. “I love the Guadalupe. It might not be class-five whitewater, but it serves its purpose. Lucy, I still love that picture of you wearing the giant sombrero and holding your beer up, loud and proud.”

  “Ugh. That was before the new me. No one can ever see that picture.”

  Since moving to Boulder three years ago, Lucy had transformed herself into the definition of fit and healthy.

  “I keep that picture in my bribery stash,” Vivian teased.

  “You wouldn’t!”

  Vivian shrugged her shoulders. “No comment.”

  Wendy took a last sip of her purple drink and stood up. “Y’all ready for dinner?”

  Vivian and Lucy polished off their drinks and said goodbye to Eric.

  Picking up Vivian’s glass, he brushed his fingers against hers. “Hope to see you tomorrow night.”

  Vivian got goose bumps on her arm and replied, “I have a feeling you will.”

  Vivian and the girls walked down the sidewalks in Aspen, going in and out of shops, until they reached Donatelli’s a few blocks away. The hostess led them down a tight spiral staircase to the quaint basement with six tables. Claustrophobic Lucy indicated her disapproval with a not so discreet, “Ahem,” so the hostess led them up a narrow staircase to the second-floor and a balcony overlooking the street.

  Vivian sat down and took a look around. “Oh my god, I’m having a moment. I need some champagne.”

  “What?” Wendy asked.

  “The mountains are so majestic, the colors of spring emerging. And the sunset is casting such glorious pink and orange rays off the clouds. I’m just having a moment. We need champagne.”

  “Okay, I’m in.”

  “I’ll have a sip,” Kate said.

  The server walked up just in time to hear Vivian’s comments. “Good evening ladies, my name is Marc. I’ll be serving you tonight. May I suggest—”

  Before he could answer, Lucy ordered a bottle of Veuve Clicquot.

  “Wonderful choice.”

  While waiting on the server’s return, the girls looked over the menu and decided on an appetizer of bruschetta.

  “I don’t eat tomatoes, but I’ll eat that,” Vivian said. The other girls had wanted to order “exotic” items like calamari or mussels in white wine. Vivian made gagging noises, so they decided against it.

  The server arrived with an ice-filled wine bucket and two bottles.

  “Did we order two?” Vivian asked. “What a bunch of lushes we are!”

  The waiter smiled. “No, one bottle is compliments of the gentleman from the bar.”

  “How nice of Eric,” Vivian said.

  “Way to make friends with the bartender at the Tree Bark,” Wendy said.

  “Yeah, I think he’s hoping to pop your cork!” Lucy laughed.

  “Uh, hello! That cork was popped a looong time ago!” Kate pushed Vivian’s shoulder.

  “It wasn’t Eric from the Tree Bark.” Marc said as he presented the champagne to Lucy.

  “Even better, random strangers,” Lucy said and approved the champagne.

  Marc laughed and poured the bubble.

  Vivian held up her champagne flute. “To the majesty of the mountains.”

  The girls clinked glasses, then Vivian said, “So I need to finish telling y’all my crazy Craig story. He called and called for several days after the Facebook thing happened and I ignored all of them. Didn’t even listen to his messages. He quit calling and a few days later, I came home and my house was trashed. I’m talking stuff broken, things thrown everywhere, the works. I called the cops and they took fingerprints, but I know it was Craig. The one thing in the house that wasn’t disturbed was my bed, and there was something there that hadn’t been there before. A tulip was lying on my pillow.”

  Wendy set her glass down. “Did he have a key? How’d he get in?”

  “I don’t really know how he got in. He didn’t have a key and the alarm was set. I never told him the code, but I guess he knew it since the alarm didn’t go off.”

  “Creepy,” Kate said.

  “Yep, it was, but it doesn’t end there. A few days later an FBI agent came knocking on my door.”

  “The feds?” Lucy asked.

  “Apparently the cops got a hit from the fingerprints they’d taken at my house, and it turns out Craig is wanted by the FBI.�
��

  “Oh my god, is he a serial killer or something?”

  “No, he’s wanted for credit card and wire fraud.”

  “Was he stealing people’s identities?” Kate asked.

  “Hank Tucker, the FBI agent, wouldn’t go into too much detail, but evidently, Craig planted a bug into PIN pad devices in stores and skimmed people’s credit card info.”

  “How much money did he scam?” Lucy asked.

  “I have no idea and he didn’t live all that flashy. He told me he was an IT consultant.” Vivian sighed and shook her head. “Those poor people he robbed.”

  “So have you heard from him since he broke in?” Wendy asked.

  “No, thank god. Agent Tucker said if Craig contacts me to let him know. Apparently, Craig moved out of his apartment right after he broke into my house and he’s as elusive like that coopa, choobra...”

  “A Cuba Libre?” Lucy asked.

  “That’s a rum and Coke with a lime, Lucy.” Wendy said and laughed. “You mean a chupacabra.”

  “Yeah, that’s it. That’s what he is. But he’s a cocksucker, not a bloodsucker!”

  “That’s really disturbing, Viv,” Wendy said. “Do you think you’re safe?”

  “I didn’t pick up on anything like that when we dated until the night I called him out. He doesn’t have a history of violence, at least not in any police records.”

  “Tell your phone and lamp that,” Lucy muttered. “What about the kids, do they know?”

  “No, thank god. Rick had them for the weekend, so I had plenty of time to get things in order before they came home.”

  “Are you sure you’re safe?” Wendy asked.

  “Yes, I think it’s over. I pushed him into a corner and he flipped. I think he’ll leave me alone. He’s got bigger things to worry about. Besides, he skipped town and I doubt he’s coming back.”

  “I certainly hope so. In the meantime, let’s toast the hot bartender who wants to share his heat with you,” Kate said, clinking glasses with Vivian. “It’s those darn pheromones again.”

  “He was flirting a little,” Vivian said and took a sip.

  “It’s not her pheromones,” Lucy said. “It’s her big boobs. Let’s be honest, look at those things.”

  Vivian looked down at her V-necked blouse and pushed her breasts together. “Whatever it is, I’m just glad I got it.” She picked up her purse and pulled out two silver condom packets, then covered her eyes with them. “I’m also glad I’ve got these!”

  7

  THE girls lingered over dinner, finishing both bottles, even though Kate only had one glass. Vivian savored every bite of her spaghetti carbonara and Wendy, Kate and Lucy raved over their trenette al pesto, lasagna and eggplant parmigiana. The waiter, Marc, kept dropping hints to Lucy about where he was going after his shift, to which she didn’t bite.

  After sharing a slice of Italian cream cake, the girls left the restaurant for the sports bar.

  As they walked down the street, Vivian’s phone rang. She didn’t recognize the number but answered in case it had something to do with the kids.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey Viv, how’s your trip going?”

  She stopped in the doorway of a bakery, covered up the mouthpiece and whispered, “Holy crap! It’s Craig.” She composed herself. “Uh, hi. Fine.”

  “Glad to hear.”

  Silence.

  “Listen, I wanted to apologize for what I did. You were right, I should have trusted you. I don’t know why I didn’t. I messed up. And now I’ve messed us up.”

  She leaned against a window displaying a delicious looking carrot cake. “Uh, yeah.” She let sarcasm drip off the “yeah.”

  Another silence.

  “I’d like to see you again, Vivian. I know we can make things work. I want to see you when you’re back from Colorado.”

  Vivian stomped her foot. “It’s over Craig. There’s nothing left to say. In fact, I don’t ever want to talk to you again.”

  His voice flashed with anger. “Dammit Vivian, if you would just freaking listen—”

  “No, Craig. It’s over.”

  She hung up the phone, hands shaking and could feel the blood rushing to her face. “I’ve got to call Agent Tucker and tell him that I’ve just heard from Craig. I can’t believe he called.”

  “I can,” Wendy said, peering in the window at an éclair. “He wants to jack with you and screw up your vacation.”

  “We’re not going to let that happen,” Kate said, elbowing Lucy who was staring at the cupcakes. “No way, Jose.”

  “Yeah!” Lucy managed.

  Vivian scrolled through her contacts and found Tucker’s number.

  After two rings, he answered. “Agent Tucker.”

  She paced in the bakery’s alcove. “Hey, this is Vivian Taylor from Fort Worth. You came to my house when Craig Pearson’s fingerprints came up a couple of weeks ago.”

  “Yes, I remember. What can I do for you, Ms. Taylor?”

  “He just called me, but it wasn’t from his regular number. It was one I didn’t recognize.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That he wanted to see me when I got back from my trip, and that he was sorry.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Not really, just that he knew he messed up. He got a little mad though, when I told him it was over.”

  “Can you provide me the number he called from?”

  She stopped pacing long enough to look at her phone and give him the number.

  “Did he give any indication to his whereabouts?”

  “No, sorry.”

  “Did he threaten you?”

  “No, but he sounded mad.”

  “Could you hear any background noises, anything that would clue you in to where he was calling from?”

  “No. I’m on a sidewalk in Aspen and couldn’t hear anything but him, sorry.”

  “Okay, I’ll run the number and see what I come up with. I appreciate your call.”

  “Sure. Bye.”

  He disconnected and Vivian dropped her phone into her purse. “It’s been weeks since I’ve heard from him.”

  “I think Wendy’s right,” Lucy said. “He knew about this trip. He called to screw with you.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  They had a short walk to Bronco’s.

  “Let’s just go inside and forget all about that jerk-wad,” Wendy said and opened the door.

  Vivian entered and took in the neon beer signs and what seemed like two thousand TVs. They were the only women in the place. A few men threw darts and a couple of others were playing a round of pool, but that was it. Nobody else was there. They had a seat at a table, close to the Rock-Ola jukebox, and ordered a bucket of beer and glass of water for Kate.

  “Pierre says that every time he sees a bucket of beer he thinks of me, uh, I mean us,” Lucy said and coughed.

  “Playa del Carmen Pierre?” Vivian teased.

  “You still talk to him?” Wendy asked.

  “We keep in touch some,” Lucy said. “It’s no big deal. I’m married, we live a zillion miles apart, but he’s a nice guy. Plus I feel bad for him, you know, since Jon died and I just like to check on him from time to time.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Kate said. “Whatever. You liked him then and you like him now.”

  Lucy ignored that and looked at Wendy. “Jon left him a substantial amount in his will, so he opened his own gym. Something he’d been wanting to do for several years.”

  “That’s cool,” Kate said. “You two have any plans to see each other?”

  The bartender sat down the bucket and glass of water and Lucy passed them out. “No. I’m committed to making things work with Steve.”

  “And we support you in that,” Vivian said, then held up her beer, offering a toast. “To Jon.”

  “To Jon,” the girls repeated and joined her in remembering the best kissing (in Vivian’s expert opinion), salsa dancing Canadian soap star who ever lived.

&
nbsp; “Speaking of people from our Mexico vacation,” Vivian said. “I stay in touch with Adrienne.”

  “She and Al were a hoot,” Kate said.

  “They sure disappeared from Shorty’s party after the cops busted in,” Wendy said. “Has she ever said anything about it?”

  “Nope, and I haven’t asked.”

  “It’s got to be drugs and the mob,” Lucy said, still stuck on her gangster fantasy of Al.

  “Regardless, they were good to us and seem like nice people,” Vivian said.

  “Oh, I agree,” Wendy said. “They were great.”

  Vivian’s attention was broken by the striking man at the jukebox. His black, wavy hair brought out his ice-blue eyes. His eyelashes were so long they looked like he had taken a curler to them. He glanced over at the girls as he was making his selection.

  “Any requests?” He smiled at them.

  Lucy got up and went over to Rock-Ola. “Hmm…how about ‘Green Eyes,’ Coldplay?” She batted her green eyes at him.

  After a few minutes of picking out songs, Vivian noticed that Lucy’s chest was red and the color had crept up to her cheeks. Somebody’s flustered!

  A guy who had been hanging around a pool table came over to the table carrying two beers. His shirt read “I’m not Santa, but you can sit on my lap anyway.” Not Santa handed a beer to the Rock-Ola guy, pulled up a chair and eased into it smoothly, draping his arm around Kate. “Who are the hotties?”

  Vivian rolled her eyes and grabbed the last beer from the bucket.

  Kate picked up his arm and dropped it into his lap. “I’m Kate and I’m married.”

  Undeterred, he said, “You ladies look like you’re nice and naughty. Let’s do a shot.”

  “Buttery Nipples?” Vivian joked.

  “How about a Santa’s South Pole?” Not Santa suggested, putting his arm around Vivian this time.

  Ex-bartender Wendy looked skeptical. “Never heard of it.”

  “It’s my specialty,” he said and walked to the bar with Rock-Ola. They came back a few minutes later with six white shots topped with red drizzle.

  “Festive,” Vivian said.

  Kate pushed hers away. “None for me, thanks.”