by J. P. Comeau
The sun shone brightly into my office. So bright, in fact, that I had to cover my eyes when turning around in my seat to face the computer screen. I really needed to remember to have my secretary pull the blinds before I came in.
“Are we all in agreement then?” I asked into the phone.
I had been on a long call with board members and was eager to get off, my head pounding and stomach rumbling.
“Yes,” they replied in unison.
“I’m hopeful this upcoming board meeting will go smoother than our last one. Absolutely no hiccups. Understood?” I really hated it when we got together and it was pure chaos, I had no time for that.
They all agreed, and I clicked the button to end the call, rubbing the bridge of my nose at the same time. I pulled open the top drawer of the desk and grabbed the jumbo-sized bottle of Ibuprofen, glad that I had at least a little quiet time before diving back into work. Of course, no sooner than I had swallowed the medicine and unwrapped my granola bar, my phone rang again. This time it was my cell. I leaned over, squinting to see who it was, and I was relieved when my brother's face popped up on the screen.
I took a bite of my makeshift lunch and smiled as I nestled the phone between my ear and shoulder. “Richard, what’s going on?”
“You tell me. You’re still coming out to see me, right?”
I smiled as I pictured my older brother sitting out on his deck, living a happy life as a bachelor. “Are you kidding me? River Valley has been calling my name for months now. Are you sure you have the space for me, though?”
“It’s just me, man. I have more than enough space, you’ll see.” Richard lived alone in a new home with three guest bedrooms, all with adjoining bathrooms — or so he had told me. “Mr. Bachelor. Do you think you’ll ever settle down?”
I thought about all of the females that Richard had been with, and after each one, he had walked away, simply stating they weren't the right one.
He laughed. “At my age? Are you kidding me?”
“Oh, c’mon. You’re the one who inherited Dad’s good looks. There must be plenty of women in River Valley that are just dying to take your last name.” I chuckled as I clicked open my email, multitasking.
“People always say that I look just like him, even though I don't see it," he replied. "Glad I developed a different personality. He’s tough.”
I snorted. "Yeah, especially when you aren't the perfect son. Ahem…you know, like me."
Richard laughed. “I think he loves me more than you. You know, just enough to make you feel you’ll never be good enough.” Richard cleared his throat, “But not enough to leave me more in his will."
I shook my head, chuckling, knowing it was probably true. "Whatever, you can have it, I'll take the part of Dad that's content with only seeing me every so often."
"Which should be soon, right?" Richard asked. "When are you leaving San Diego?”
“I plan on leaving here early tomorrow evening in time for dinner?”
“Looking forward to it. What are your plans for tonight?”
I pulled out my other smartphone, the one I used primarily for work and scheduling, and checked for any text messages, silently hoping that my drinking buddy had canceled. Of course, there were texts from him, but none mentioning canceling. Hillard would have to be missing limbs and unable to swallow to miss a night out.
“I’m actually going out for drinks with Hillard,” I said, reading Hillard’s text message verifying we were on for that night. “I told you about him, right?”
I had met Hillard after college through a few colleagues, and we became instant friends. He was a bit wilder than me, but he kept the good times rolling, and reminded me not to take myself so seriously. It was about two seconds after meeting him before he quit his job and came to work for me here at Pinnacle Production Company.
I sent a quick ‘see you soon’ reply to Hillard’s text message verifying we were on for the night. With any luck, Hillard would immediately find a woman and take her home early.
Richard thought about it for a minute. “Oh yeah, he sounds like a lot of fun. I don’t think I could drink with him. Sounds like that guy goes hard.”
Yes, he does. A little too hard sometimes.
I breathed heavily just thinking about what was in store. “Hillard's a good guy, just sowing some wild oats.”
“Are you getting too old to keep up with him?” Richard joked.
I let out a breath, followed by a chuckle. The combination of non-stop drinking and fake women was starting to take its toll on me. “I don’t think you’re in any position to poke fun of my age. I mean, we have fun, and he’s a blast to hang out with. But truth be told, I’m starting to get tired of the same old scene. You know, shots and women who are faker than a spray tan in winter.”
Richard laughed. “Well, River Valley misses you. Now get your ass back here so we can have some fun!”
***
I walked into O'Malley's, the bar Hillard and I often frequented. I immediately found a table in the back and ordered a dozen hot wings while waiting for Hillard to show up. It was my normal. The place was more of a restaurant until about ten or eleven, then it got a bit rowdy with the drinking crowd. Wings and sports channels gave me a chance to ease into the night.
"You want a beer?" the normal waitress asked, her shorts barely covering anything, and her top cut off right below her chest.
I shook my head, knowing I needed to get the water in while I had the chance. "Just a water for now, thanks."
I knew it was wishful thinking, but I was hoping Hillard wouldn't put the old 'just one beer' thing on me tonight. I really didn't want to head to River Valley with a hangover. One beer was never one beer. One beer was three pitchers followed by several rounds of shots. Those nights usually ended with a drunken stumble to our cars, which were chauffeured - I always made sure of it - at least once someone puked, and then we ended up wherever the night took us. Usually, for Hillard, that was to a woman's bed.
I sat at the small table by myself, devouring chicken wings and washing them down with water. Several women were making eyes at me, but they all looked the same. Fake breasts, fake lips, and a fake personality.
O’Malley’s was the kind of sports bar that attracted people from every walk of life. There were the guys who only came for the free cable and were always quiet and usually left when the lights dimmed. Then there was the middle class, blue-collar men who liked to get rowdy while drinking away their day and then stumbled home to their wives. Finally, there were the white-collar guys like me, who enjoyed dive bar food without the unpleasant atmosphere.
It was also a hot spot for women to snag any kind of man they wanted, regardless of their relationship status.
“Hey, buddy!” I looked up, finding Hillard walking toward me, waving as he checked out every woman in sight. He was about six feet tall with light, sandy blonde hair, and a slim physique. The ladies were drawn to him because of his macho attitude and high-end attire.
Hillard sat down across from me and held his fist out. I reluctantly bumped it with my free hand, silently wishing that he would stop his silly frat-boy behavior.
“These wings are amazing,” I said as Hillard made himself comfortable.
After tasting one for himself, he flagged down a waitress, a different gal than the one who had waited on me.
“Hey, darling. Can I also get a plate of hot wings?” He then looked at my water and smirked. “And a pint of Guinness.”
The waitress jotted his order down and winked at him. Hillard's eyes immediately scanned her body, turning to look as she walked away. I just shook my head.
“What’s with the beta male drink,” Hillard asked as I chugged the last of my water.
The hot sauce was starting to upset my stomach, so I made a mental note to take antacids as soon as I got home. I shook my head and wiped the sauce from my lips. “Need I remind you that I’ve slept with far more women than you. I don’t need to prove myself by drinking beer.”<
br />
It was true. Between the two of us, I was the better looking and highly polished one. Women didn’t need more than a few words to accept my invitation back to my penthouse. Unlike Hillard, whose obnoxious behavior ruined many possible hookups, I felt that less was more. I still slept with my fair share, I was just a bit pickier than he was.
“Whatever, man. If you want to attract loose women, then you can’t be drinking water. Don’t you want to get laid tonight?”
I continued to eat my hot wings while thinking about what Hillard had said. Dropping the bone in the bowl, I blinked at him. "First of all, did you just say loose women? What is this? 1955? And no, not tonight on the loose women. I had a really long day at the office. Had to tie up a couple of loose ends before my trip back home.”
The waitress came over with Hillard's’ food, pausing a little longer than necessary so he could get a closer look at her breasts. She was definitely his type, wearing a tucked in Yankees jersey with a few too many buttons undone and black shorts that barely covered her ass.
As he basically drooled over her like he had never seen tits before, he nodded. “Oh, that’s right. Any big plans for you and Richard?”
“Just catching up, maybe reconnect with some locals I went to school with.” I watched Hillard grab a wing from my plate and devour it like a caveman, nodding when the waitress quickly brought his beer back.
“Maybe you’ll find a hottie to keep you company,” he said with a mouthful of food.
I shrugged and scanned the bar. There was a group of cops standing around a table, all drinking beer and laughing. A few construction workers were out back playing pool, and some college girls were trying to get free drinks from guys sitting at the bar.
I leaned back, wiping my hands on the towelette. “Yeah, maybe. I’m mainly just looking forward to relaxing and reconnecting with my family. Work has been crazy lately.”
“Tell me about it. I’ve been working 16-hour days, which you would know if you ever poked your head in my office. I really need to blow off some steam.” He drank his beer while scanning the room, his gaze landing on two blondes in the corner.
Both gals were your typical dress-up dolls. Every bit of them was plucked, waxed, brushed, sprayed, and pinned perfectly together. They both had on skintight spaghetti-strapped dresses that barely covered anything. Their deep cleavage was pointed directly at us.
“Speaking of blow,” he said, holding his beer up at them and smiling.
I turned to take a better look, barely impressed with them. The girls looked to be a few years younger than us, pretty faces, and perfect bodies. The kind of woman you pay a lot of money for.
“Sugar babies,” I said, turning back around.
“What?” Hillard asked, sucking at his teeth.
“They’re sugar babies looking for a sugar daddy. Can’t you tell?”
Hillard stood up, giving them his signature pretty-boy grin, flirtatiously waving over at them. They both smiled as if they were surprised, and took a moment to stand up, wiggling as they pulled down the very short bottoms of their dresses. I could hear their high pitched voices as they excused themselves past the other men who were gawking without care.
The first thing I saw, other than their skimpy dresses, was the diamond tennis bracelet dangling from one of their wrists. I recognized it almost immediately. It was from the Cartier catalog. I had seen it when I was picking my mother out a Christmas gift the year before. It was worth about $15,000.
Hillard ordered another Guinness from the waitress, popped a breath mint in his mouth, and pushed two more chairs up to the table. He also, not so secretly, pushed his own chair back a few inches, in case the woman wanted to sit directly on his lap. It was his routine.
“Who said anything about sugar,” he said as the two women approached. “I’m just looking to blow off a little steam if you know what I mean. And since when do you care if a woman only wants you for your money?”
I rolled my eyes at the cheesy metaphor but realized that he was right. I was fully aware that pretty much every woman I had ever dated was only with me for my money. I always said that it didn’t bother me, but suddenly it kind of did.
An arm draped over my shoulder, and I glanced to my right, finding long, hot pink nails tapping on the table. The brown-eyed girl leaned back and smiled, making it clear that I was her choice, especially given the way her legs pointed in my direction when she slowly crossed them.
“I’m Crystal,” she said.
Her hand immediately went to my Rolex, and she ran her nails over it. My eyes zoomed in on her black stilettos as she sat forward, leaning into me. She followed my gaze down and shook her foot. “They’re Christian Louboutin."
She was just a few inches away from me at that point. I could have leaned forward and kissed her right on the mouth if I wanted to. I was pretty sure she wouldn't have argued a bit.
Instead, I leaned back nonchalantly. “You must be very successful to be able to afford a pair. Don’t they go for a few hundred dollars?”
Crystal shifted back uncomfortably, her eyes moving as she tried to think of an answer. I was onto her, and she knew it. I wasn’t sure what was happening with me. In the past, I would have gladly indulged myself in a one-night stand or fling with someone like her. They were always really good in bed, and went out of their way to please the man, hoping for something in return. That night, though, I just wasn’t in the mood. If anything, I was annoyed that she was so clearly after my money.
“They were a gift,” she said, leaning back.
I immediately took notice of her tight stomach. She definitely took care of herself, but I knew it wasn't for her own self-worth. Girls like her based that on what they could get from the men they hooked. Even so, I wasn't a complete dick. I didn't want to lead her on, so I glanced around the room, letting her know she didn't have my attention.
“And I’m Brandi,” the other one said, hanging off of Hillard’s lap, trying to pull my attention back to her friend.
She had ice blue eyes, but Hillard wouldn't be able to pick her out of a lineup if he had to. His attention was solely on her fake breasts. She reminded me of a woman we had a threesome with years before. She had the same eyes. Something told me those days were over, though. At least for me.
“I’m Jake, and this is my friend Hillard.” I started to pull my wallet out.
“Nice to meet you, Jake,” Crystal purred, hoping I’d give her another chance. “In a rush to be somewhere?”
I paused, giving her that one bit of attention she was craving. Her long, fake eyelashes had clumps of mascara on them, and her plastic surgeon had given her way too many lip injections. She practically looked like a duck. I knew focusing in on those types of women that hard was definitely not something you wanted to do if you were thinking about taking one home, but I had no intention, and her personality had tripped me up hard.
“I just had a long day at work and need to get to bed." I looked over at Hillard. "I’ll catch up with you when I get back, man.”
“You sure you don’t wanna stay,” he asked as Brandi made herself more comfortable in his lap.
“Yeah,” I said, throwing a twenty on the table.
Realizing that I really wasn’t interested, Crystal turned her chair toward Hillard, and he winked at her. She immediately got up and sat on the other side of his lap.
“More for me then,” he replied as both ladies giggled and tilted their heads back. The last image I had of them was both sets of breasts pushed up against his chest, while he ordered yet another pint of Guinness.
Hillard was definitely taking both of them back to his house later on.
I walked outside into the chilly dark night. My driver, Mick, was waiting for me directly in front of the bar. Upon seeing me, he got out and opened the passenger’s door. I slid inside and rested my head against the leather headrest.
“Where to, sir?” Mick adjusted his mirror as he climbed in and made eye contact with me.
“Just t
ake me home,” I replied in a quiet and tired voice.
We drove through the streets of the city, up and down the hills of San Diego. The place was lively as it usually was at night, packed with both locals and tourists looking to have a good time. I could hear the bursts of music coming from the different bars as we passed.
San Diego was a beautiful city with lots of history and, of course, the world-renowned San Diego Zoo. When I first moved here soon after college, I would walk the city for hours in the perfect climate, just to clear my mind. Over time, though, I often wondered what it’d be like to just walk or bike to work, but with my long hours, I was lucky I could even make it home without falling asleep in the car.
My job, social life, and the city were wearing me down. I was financially successful, but emotionally my tank was running on empty. I desperately needed a vacation.
My condo was on the very top floor of a high-rise building in the center of the city. There were floor to ceiling windows in every room, giving me one of the best views you could find. As I walked in, the sound of the door shutting behind me set me at ease. I tossed my keys in the bowl in my foyer and immediately began disrobing as I headed toward the shower. I washed away the grease, the hot sauce, and the growing dislike of the Crystals and Brandi's of the world.
After washing down some antacids with seltzer water, I climbed into bed and turned on the television. Instead of watching the news like I usually did, I found myself staring out the window and into the night.
After growing up in a small town like River Valley, I still found it amazing how so many people in the city never closed their shades. It was as though everyone wanted to watch everyone else while still being secretive and shady, which was a bit hypocritical. I was really starting to wonder just how truly happy I was in life. Or had I tricked myself into thinking I was?
I rolled over on my side and closed my eyes, allowing my body to sink into the mattress. As I started to fall asleep, I thought about how Hillard was probably entertaining those two blondes at his place by that point. He didn't waste any time. I probably would have had more fun with the help of some bourbon to numb my thoughts, but I still didn’t regret my decision. Things felt like they were changing, and I wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad one.