The Good Guys Box Set: TRUCKER, DANCER, DROPOUT, and A Trucker Wedding

by Jamie Schlosser

  “Angel likes it long on top. Gives her something to hold onto.” He smirked.

  “Dude.” I barked out a laugh. “There’s such a thing as too much information.”

  “And there’s such a thing as trying to change the subject,” he shot back, giving me a pointed look.

  Deciding to get it over with, I took a deep breath. With my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, I confessed my deepest secret.

  “I’ve got a problem with my dick,” I blurted out, grimacing at how blunt I was.

  “Shit,” Travis breathed out. “Did Tara give you something? Is that why you broke up?”

  “No!” I practically shouted, lifting my head. “Hell no. I got tested for everything after we broke up. Clean bill of health.” I held up my hands. “Tara was into drugs. The hard stuff, too. I didn’t even know it for most of our relationship. I don’t know how she hid that shit from me, but she did.”

  “You guys didn’t exactly spend a lot of time together,” he supplied.

  I nodded because it was true. Honestly, I never enjoyed Tara’s company all that much. If anything I just stayed with her out of convenience, which hadn’t been fair to either of us.

  “So, what’s the problem?” Travis asked, reminding me of my confession.

  “It’s like—” I paused, trying to think of a way to explain it. “It’s like whiskey dick, but I haven’t been drinking. I can’t keep it up. Fuck, sometimes I can’t even get it up in the first place.”

  Realization dawned on his face. “The arguments. I heard her yelling about stuff a few times,” he said. “What she said didn’t make sense at the time, but it does now.”

  “Yeah, she wasn’t exactly understanding about it. It only made it worse.” I took another swig of my beer as I remembered the way Tara berated me.

  What’s wrong with you?!

  Don’t you think I’m sexy?

  Are you gay or something?

  “We didn’t even have sex for, like, the last two months of our relationship,” I said. “I got tired of trying. And failing.”

  “Did you ever think maybe you just didn’t like her? I mean, maybe your dick knew better than you,” he joked, making light of the situation.

  I shook my head. “I had the problem in high school a few times. You remember Katie? Of course you do.” I chuckled because Travis hated her. She could be a total bitch, but she was hot. Back then, that was all I cared about. “Anyway, it happened with her a few times, too. I’d been drinking those times, though, so I thought it was because of that…”

  “What about since Tara? You guys broke up months ago.”

  “I tried to go home with a girl from a bar one night.” I cringed, thinking about my desperate attempt to prove to myself that my cock wasn’t broken. “I got to her place and we started to mess around. I couldn’t even get half-mast. I ended up making some lame excuse and leaving.” The shame and embarrassment weighed down on me. You’d think talking to my best friend would make me feel better, but it didn’t. I’d already told him this much, so I thought I might as well spill everything. “I went to see a doctor about it earlier today,” I admitted, looking up at Travis to find him listening intently.

  “And?” he prodded.

  “He gave me a prescription for Viagra. Fucking Viagra!” I removed the orange bottle of blue pills from the pocket of my Carhartt jacket and set it on the coffee table. “I’m twenty-two years old and they tell me I have erectile dysfunction.”

  I finished off the second beer and got up to get another one.

  “Wanna grab me one, too?” Travis called from the living room.

  I got two beers from the fridge, handed one to him, then sat back down.

  “Aren’t you a little young to be experiencing that kind of issue?” Travis asked skeptically. “Maybe the doctors were wrong.”

  “They said it’s probably just in my head. Called it ‘performance anxiety’.” I made a sound of frustration. “I don’t know how to fix that. But they said the pills might give me more confidence.”

  “Have you talked to Hank about it?” he asked.

  My face twisted up in a horrified expression. “I’m not talking to my dad about my dick problems,” I said incredulously. “Anyway, he’d just tell me there’s nothing wrong with me and say some shit like ‘if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it’.”

  Travis nodded because he knew my dad as well as I did. “Or he’d tell you that line about the broken clock.”

  Then at the same time, we both said, “Even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

  Chuckling, I cracked the first real smile I’d had in a long time.

  Travis cleared his throat. “What about when you’re… by yourself?” he asked.

  “It’s better then, unless I think about it too much,” I admitted.

  “You want to know what I think?” he asked, and I nodded. “I think your dick is smarter than you.” I huffed out a laugh and he continued. “I’m serious. I think you just haven’t found the right girl yet.”

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  I glanced up to see Travis standing in the living room, arms crossed over his chest as he looked at me as if I’d grown two heads.

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” I held up my beer and gestured toward the TV. I laughed out loud at the funny home-video show. They were doing a special segment on dogs biting people on the ass. That shit never got old. The screen suddenly went black. “Hey!” I glared at Travis. “I was watching that.”

  “Go get ready. We’re going out,” he announced, tossing the remote onto the chair.

  “I don’t feel like going out. I’m comfy,” I grumbled and pointed down at my favorite sweatpants.

  He shot me a look. “It’s your birthday. Angel’s getting home any minute and she volunteered to be our designated driver for the night.”

  I sighed and ran a hand over my face. “Where are we going? She’s not even old enough to get into any bars.”

  “She can get into Caged. They’re 18 and up,” he replied.

  My eyebrows went up. “Angel wants to go to a strip club?”

  “It’s not a strip club. They have, like, go-go dancers or whatever, but they’re not naked.”

  I just grunted and sat back into the cushions.

  “Plus,” he continued. “It’s the only dance club she can get into and she wants you to have a good birthday. It would mean a lot to her if you came out.”

  I groaned. “You’re really gonna play the guilt card?”

  “I’ll say whatever I can to get your ass off that couch.” He grinned. “Cheer up. Get some clothes on. It’s a dance club and you love dancing.”

  “Fine.” I sighed, knowing I wasn’t going to get out of this.

  Travis wasn’t wrong—I used to love dancing. I used to love a lot of things, but having a non-functioning dick had done some serious damage to my self-esteem.

  Trying to shake off the depression I felt, I went to my room and put on worn jeans and a gray long-sleeve Henley T-shirt. I opened the top drawer of my dresser and saw the little orange bottle of pills staring back at me.

  Mocking me.

  After grabbing a clean pair of socks, I slammed the drawer shut a little harder than necessary. I slumped down onto the side of my bed and put my head in my hands as I tried to snap myself out of the funk I was in.

  Get yourself together. It’s not the end of the world if you can’t get a boner.

  I let out humorless laugh. Because it was the end of the fucking world. What good was I if one of the most important parts of my body wouldn’t function?

  How was I ever supposed to have a healthy relationship? Marriage? Kids?

  Maybe I didn’t want those things right now, but I definitely wanted them someday.

  The first few times I had problems with performance anxiety I wrote it off as a fluke, but over the past few years it happened again and again. The more it happened, the more it fueled my anxiety. And the worse my anxiety got, the more it
fueled the problem. It was a vicious cycle I couldn’t seem to break.

  I heard the front door open and shut, followed by the sound of Angel’s voice. I didn’t want her or Travis to worry about me. In all honesty, I appreciated the fact that they cared enough to not let me sit at home alone tonight.

  Standing up, I took a deep breath and tried to put a convincing smile on my face.

  It was time to go out there and pretend I was having the best birthday ever.

  The drive to the club was about twenty minutes long, so my buzz had started to wear off by the time we got there. Angel looked proud of herself as she successfully parallel parked on the street a block away from Caged.

  I still couldn’t believe Travis let her drive his ’72 Chevy pickup truck. That thing was his baby. Hell, he wouldn’t even let me drive it.

  “You did real good, baby,” he praised, and she beamed back at him.

  Then he kissed her and when they pulled apart, she giggled as she lovingly poked at the dimples in his cheeks.

  I had to look away. I might’ve been happy for them but that didn’t mean I wasn’t envious of what they had. Travis and Angel were proof that soulmates existed, that fate was a real thing. They were each other’s one and only.

  For twenty-one years, Travis held onto his V-card, patiently waiting until he was in love. And he fell for Angel, hard and fast. Of course, I thought they were crazy at the time, but if they were happy that was all that mattered.

  “Well,” I said, breaking up their love-fest. “I’m ready for another drink.”

  Angel happily clapped her hands. “Let’s go, birthday boy!”

  The snowfall from Christmas Day was mostly just melted mush on the ground, but the night air was cold. Our breath came out in visible puffs and the short walk to the club entrance was enough to make me wish I’d just stayed inside where it was warm.

  However, once we got past the doorman, I was instantly hit with a wall of warm, stuffy air that only resulted from too many bodies being packed into a room. The inside of the nightclub smelled like alcohol, too much perfume, and bad decisions.

  Maybe tonight wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  After we found an open table, Travis turned to me. “What do you want to drink? It’s on me tonight.”

  I’d already had a few beers and switching to something stronger sounded like a good idea.

  “Whiskey and Coke,” I replied.

  He raised his eyebrows and smiled, probably because he knew that was my ‘get crazy’ drink of choice.

  “7-Up and grenadine for me. With a cherry on top, please,” Angel piped up.

  I laughed. “A kiddie cocktail?”

  “It’s delicious,” she huffed defensively. “And don’t call it that. Adults can enjoy a cherry-flavored beverage, too.”

  Chuckling and shaking his head, Travis left the table to head up to the bar. I leaned back, enjoying the ‘80s monster ballad booming through the club.

  That hair-raising feeling of being watched came over me and I looked over at Angel to find her staring.

  “What?” I asked self-consciously.

  As far as I knew Travis hadn’t told her about my issues, and I appreciated his ability to keep it between us. Angel wasn’t one to beat around the bush. If she suspected my problem, I had a feeling she’d come right out and say it. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about my penis with a girl I thought of as my sister.

  “It’s just…” she started. “If you ever have anything you want to talk about, you know you can tell me, right?”

  “Yeah, of course,” I said, shifting uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

  “Especially if it had something to do with me,” she continued quickly. “I know it was just you and Travis for a long time and when I moved in, it was so sudden—”

  “Wait a second,” I interrupted, leaning forward to put my elbows on the table. “You think I’m upset because you moved in with us?”

  She shrugged and looked down, picking at an imaginary piece of lint on her purple sweater. “Things with Travis and me happened really fast. And I never knew if you were okay with me intruding.”

  I shook my head. “Angel, you couldn’t be more wrong. Yeah, I’m having a hard time right now, but it has nothing to do with you. I’m glad you moved in. Honestly, I love you like family.”

  Her blue eyes shot up to mine and I could see tears glistening there. “That means a lot to me.” She swallowed hard. “You’re like family to me, too.”

  Reaching across the table I ruffled her blonde hair, and she smiled as she smoothed it back down. Suddenly, I felt bad for not making sure Angel knew that I cared. She’d had a hard time of it over the last year.

  When she came to Tolson several months ago, she had nothing but a backpack. No family. No friends. After the death of her aunt, she’d been hitchhiking across the country. Angel was one of the sweetest people I’d ever met and she deserved way better than the hand she’d been dealt. At first, I was shocked when Travis brought her home. He’d left on a long haul for our trucking company, then returned three days later with Angel in tow.

  “You and Travis are pretty lucky to have found each other,” I told her. “It’s not every day the trucker falls in love with the hitchhiker.”

  She giggled. “Yeah, that’s pretty weird, huh? You’ll get lucky someday, too,” she said with more certainty than I felt.

  My drink appeared in front of me, saving me from having to respond, and Travis sat back down with us. I took a sip and enjoyed the way the alcohol burned on the way down while my eyes roamed around the club.

  The bartender polished the already-gleaming black granite bar top. Booths upholstered in red leather, like the one we were sitting in, lined the walls and free-standing tables were scattered around the perimeter of the dance floor. A bachelorette party crowded the bar and ordered a round of shots while they loudly encouraged their already inebriated friend to drink more.

  Caged was way bigger than I thought it would be, and it was a nice place. A lot fancier than the small-town taverns I was used to. The inside had high ceilings with industrial beams running the length of the room. Multi-colored flashing lights hung down over the dance floor and all the walls were painted black, giving it a rave-type feel.

  The large dance floor was shaped like a triangle, and at every corner there was an elevated circular cage. Each one had a dancer inside. The girls weren’t wearing much, but they weren’t naked.

  I’d never been here but I had heard about it. The way people talked made it sound like a strip club, but now I realized that wasn’t true at all.

  The cage closest to our table had a busty blonde dancing around in a skimpy outfit made out of neon pink spandex, keeping with the ‘80s theme of the night. Bending over, she rubbed one of the metal bars between her ass cheeks.

  I waited to feel something. Just one dick twitch. Anything.

  Nothing.

  Tipping up my glass, I swallowed the rest of the drink in one gulp. The dance floor was filled with writhing bodies, and if I got a few more drinks in me I just might join them.

  At least dancing doesn’t require an erection.

  My attention was snagged by a girl in the cage on the opposite side of the room because a guy had approached her. He tried to stick his hand through the bars, obviously intent on copping a feel. A bouncer quickly intervened, steering the intoxicated man over to a less crowded area.

  Through body language and hand gestures, I could tell the bulky security guard was explaining that touching the girls was against the rules.

  Drunk Dude huffed, gave the dancer one last lingering look, then staggered over to the bar.

  My eyes trailed back over to the girl who was still moving around as though nothing happened and, suddenly, I couldn’t look away. I was captivated.

  Not because she was hot—and she was hot—but because she was smiling. A big, genuine smile.

  Her movements kept in time with the peppy beat of ‘Vacation’ by the Go-Go’s as she
started hopping around.

  Her big ‘80s-styled hair flew through the air as she spastically tilted her head from side to side. The long chocolate strands whipped around the confines of the cage and I swear I could see her laughing.

  She was having fun. She loved this.

  The jean shorts she had on were so short that I could see her ass cheeks hanging out of the bottom and my eyes traveled down her toned legs, then back up. Her waist was tiny and she had an hourglass shape with full breasts, which were jiggling with her every move.

  This was entertainment.

  Not only was this girl gorgeous and sexy—she was also goofy as fuck. She did some sort of head-banging move before twirling around like a ballerina.

  She was still grinning and her chest shook with giggles. I could almost imagine what it would sound like to hear her laugh.

  And as I watched, I found myself laughing along.

  I felt a familiar tightness in my jeans and was beyond shocked when I glanced down to find myself stiff as a board.

  I looked back up toward the dancer with my jaw hanging open.

  She was fully facing me now, but the fog machine near her started going nuts, blocking her from my view. I sat up straighter, waiting for the air to clear, and when it did I almost felt like I couldn’t breathe.

  She was so fucking beautiful.

  Flashing lights lit up her features. Full red lips. High cheek bones. A slight cleft in her chin. Her eyes were closed as she tilted her head back and she brought her hands up to her hair. The action made her body arch, pushing her breasts out. Her wide smile was still in place and her white teeth stood out in the black lights as she wiggled her hips.

  Something about her was familiar but I couldn’t put my finger on it. She definitely wasn’t from Tolson. It was possible she was from another surrounding town or from the college in Champaign.

  “Hey,” Travis said over the table, interrupting my ogling. “Angel and I are gonna go dance. You want to come with us?”

  I absentmindedly shook my head without looking his way. “No, you guys go have fun.”

  “You sure?” he asked, sounding reluctant to leave me by myself.