A Is for Alpha Male (18 page)

I chuckled to myself and looked up just in time to see the doubt flash in Jason’s eyes. Right. I better stop acting crazy or he was going to be the one backing out.

“You kind of look like a blue-eyed Zack Morris,” I blurted out as I perused the features of his face.

“Zack Morris?” he asked, confusion coating his every facet.

“You know,
Saved by the Bell
.”

Nothing. No recognition whatsoever. His face was absolutely blank. This was totally weird; Zack Morris was never blank.

“He dated Kelly Kapowski,” I kept explaining. “Best friends with Samuel “Screech” Powers.”

Still nothing. No flash of understanding. No subtle nod suffused with found knowledge. No flashy pointer finger guns combined with a, “I get it!”

Okay, time to move on from
Saved by the Bell
because he was not effing getting it, and I was starting to get frustrated.

I mean, who didn’t know
Saved by the Bell
?

I had to grit my teeth in order to push through the frustration, but somehow, I managed it.

“Nowhere on the list did it mention knowing early nineties pop culture as a requirement,” I muttered practically mutedly to myself. “He’s cute, Haley. Get over it,” I told myself at the same silent volume.

I looked up to find his bright blue eyes still locked on me, and that was all it took to let the ridiculous obsession with
Saved by the Bell
go. Throwing him a saucy smile, I flirted, “It doesn’t matter. Just know that he was a major teenage heart throb, and you look a lot like him.”

Well, he obviously understood
that
if his answering smile was anything to go by. He shifted his body weight even closer, seeming like he was going to get even touchier, but froze, a reaction to the chime of his phone. After pulling it out of his pocket, he flashed me another smile and then murmured, “I’ve got to go, but I’m looking forward to tomorrow night. Let me grab your phone number, and I’ll give you a call tomorrow morning to set it up.”

Figuring that was a good plan since it gave me time to mull it over and back out if I needed to, I gave him my number, and then entered his into my phone under “Zack “Jason” Morris” so that I would know it was him when he called. No need to open myself up to surprises.

We said our goodbyes, goodbyes that were very touchy on his end, with a hand on upper rib slash lower boob graze and a lingering kiss on the cheek. I didn’t make a big deal about the boob graze because it seemed genuinely accidental. Not to mention, I had bigger fish to fry, as Boozy Susie was hanging practically all of her weight on me, seemingly adding a pound for every minute we stood there.

It was time to go back to the hotel and to do it via taxi. Walking the half of a mile or so that it was back to the Hotel Monaco with her weight slung over my shoulder like I was on a European backpacking trip was not my idea of a good time.

I preferred the hotels that carried my bags for me and kept me supplied in chocolate, whether it was the on my pillow variety or stashed in a minibar. Or even down the hall in a vending machine. Whatever.

Putting my arm around her upper back and bracing hers around my shoulders, I picked up on her weight and gave her side a squeeze to get her attention.

When her glazed, though still luminous, turquoise eyes met mine I smiled big and got one of equal strength in return.

“Hey, Alli girl, I think it’s time to go back to the room, pour some water and ibuprofen down your throat, and hit the hay. Sound good?”

She nodded, her smile slightly wobbly, and a wet sheen coated those same pretty orbs. Her palm cupped my cheek, and she whispered, “Love you, baby girl. Sorry about this.”

I assumed she was apologizing for being completely schnockered, but I didn’t care. Allison had lived a life of meeting everyone else’s standards, trapped under the thumb of an overprotective father, and then forced into a little, oppressive box by every man that came after my father.

It was about damn time that she let loose.

“Ain’t no skin off my nose, Mamajamma. As long you don’t give me a vomit bath, I can handle anything you throw at me.”

Startled eyes jumped up to mine, her free hand shot to her mouth, and she carefully whispered, “Don’t say vomit.”

Um.
Eek
!

“Noted,” I agreed easily. I did
not
want to clean up puke. It would turn into a game of vomit leapfrog, since I was what you might call a “sympathy puker”. Once she threw up, I would throw up, and then we’d be lost in an endless circle.

Easing her away from the group of disappointed men (and they were disappointed if their grumbles and sourpuss faces were any indication) I made my way to the door and out just as a taxi was pulling up with a group of scantily clad women who appeared to be on a bachelorette party bar crawl.

Either that or they had a thing for veils and sashes, and specialized in miniature penis paraphernalia.

Truthfully, that sounded like an insanely fun job to have. Just imagine the weekly Wednesday morning conference at Small Plastic Penis Paraphernalia Enterprises.

“Well, Bob. I think we have to go with the miniature penis belt. That’s definitely going to be the go-to accessory this year,” Sue said firmly.

Nodding his agreement, Bob expanded on the validity of her hypothesis. “You’re right, Sue. I’ve seen them all over the runways this season.”

Or something similar to that. I couldn’t tell you for sure. I wasn’t actually an employee of Small Plastic Penis Paraphernalia Enterprises.

“Excuse me?” the cab driver said, trying to get my attention and breaking me out of my reverie. The lines of his face were strained, and I was guessing they matched his patience.

Quickly moving the Siamese twin setup I had going with Allison over to the backdoor of the cab, I opened it and then helped my mom in much like a police officer would help load a prisoner.

“Watch your head, Mamalicious.”

Once inside, Allison crawled her way across the seat to make room for me. Thankfully, she had on shorts, so we didn’t have a full on vagina flashing, young Hollywood moment.

When I finally settled in my seat and adjusted so that the skin of my legs wasn’t sticking uncomfortably to the leather seat, I told the driver where we wanted to go and smiled at him in the rear view mirror to make up for my previous delays.

When he flashed a salacious grin in return, all I could do was roll my eyes heavenward and pray for the manless safety of our hotel room.

Resting my head on the seat and closing my eyes, I didn’t expect to be forced to open them right away by the sound of Allison’s raucous laughter.

Smiling at her in the seat next to me, I asked, “What’s so funny?”

She tried to speak around her chortles, her statement coming out in choppy one or two word bursts. “I didn’t...get it...at...first. I...just...got it.”

“What did you get?” I asked, truly curious.

She broke out into a fresh round of laughter, and at the sound of it, my face felt like it would split open from the width of my smile.

When she finally found enough composure to speak again, she told me something I wished I could un-hear.

“Her sheriff’s badge—”

Ah, yes. The sheriff’s badge. Another popular accessory for bachelorette party goers.

“It said, ‘I ride bareback’!”

Cripes.

The rest of the cab ride sounded like we had locked a couple of hyenas in and were tickling them ruthlessly. Out and out, unabashed, wild, health-inducing laughter.

“So he asked you basically nothing about yourself?” Danny asked in my ear, but he was definitely looking for confirmation rather than denial.

Once back at the hotel, I had gotten my mom up to the room where she managed to get herself stripped and into her pajamas, washed her face, swallowed the water and ibuprofen I shoved at her, and then passed out face first into the fluffy white pillows on the bed.

Considering her degree of drunkenness, I was really proud of her mastery of basic motor skills.

I followed suit, divested myself of my “going out” clothes, tied my hair back, washed my face, and then settled on the in-room wing chair to do my obligatory (
Right
.) phone call to Danny.

“Well, technically that’s true. But he was there, on the outskirts while we were talking directly to other people. It was really a group conversation, so while he may not have asked me directly, he heard me talking to other people,” I answered, trying to explain away his worries and kind of butchering the delivery. “Plus, that’s what a first date is for—getting to know someone. Duh.”

Danny heaved a weighty sigh, clearly tiring of the subject.

“I don’t have to talk about this stuff with you, Dan-o,” I said in deference to his obvious unease.

“Yes, you do, Hales. Don’t you dare start keeping any of this shit from me,” he answered softly. But there was a little gravel in his voice, giving away the strength of his conviction.

“Oh..kay,” I answered, not really sure where to go from there.

Another deep sigh from Danny later, he started talking again, the once present tension gone from his silky deep timber. “So what else happened? I know that the night had to be more eventful than scoring a date.”

I couldn’t even muster up any fake bristle at his implication because, frankly, he was right. The night had been eventful. “Well, Allison officially took the title of troublemaker for the night. While I was a perfect lady, she got completely shit-faced.”

My ear practically rang thanks to the volume of his scoff. “Hales, I highly doubt you were a perfect lady.”

Outraged, I protested, “Hah! I most certainly was a perfect—”

“Hales,” he cut me off.

“Fine,” I grumbled, fully aware that classy ladies didn’t say the f-word all the time. “What did you do tonight?” I asked, adding, “You fucking Know It All,” at a substantially muted volume.

“I fear the two of you in Vegas,” he said instead of answering, either not hearing the use of my creative nickname license or just ignoring it.

“Just let it go, you little girl. We’ll be fine,” I told him, my eyes drifting over a passed out Allison.

He barked his disbelieving laughter directly into my eardrum before giving it up and moving on. “I told you what I was going to do tonight.”

Wait. He said he was going to read. “You started reading? The first
Rock Chick
?” I asked for confirmation.

“Sure did. Indy sounds hot, but she’s also fucking crazy.”

“Oh, what, and Lee’s not?” I protested.

The breath Danny expelled was so loud and heavy that I could swear I felt it like a physical touch through the phone. “I didn’t say crazy was bad, babe. In fact, it’s not. Crazy is interesting,” he informed me, and then clarified, “At least mildly crazy. There are limits. At some point, crazy is just crazy. But your kind of crazy, the kind that doesn’t think boiling bunnies is a good hobby, is cute.”

“You know what’s crazy? This fucking conversation. And I can’t believe we’re having it at—” I paused in order to look at my chunky, rose gold watch, and then continued, “One forty-one at night. I have to go to sleep. I have a date with Zack Morris tomorrow slash today, and I need my beauty sleep.”

“You don’t need any beauty sleep. You’re too pretty as it is,” Danny said, doing a good job of ignoring my
Saved by the Bell
reference. And for some reason, it really sounded like he was pouting.

“Not sure why my looks are upsetting you, Dan-o.”

He grumbled again, but this time whatever he said was unintelligible.

“I know you’re sad that I’m going to hang up, but don’t worry Senor McScruffenstuff,” I consoled. “I’ll talk to you again tomorrow.”

“Before and after your date,” he specified, not bothering to acknowledge his newest nickname.

Giggling slightly, I gave him what he wanted, agreeing, “Okay. Before and after.”

But as always, anytime I gave a little, I had to get my own back. And I was extremely punchy.

So I pulled a Hunter, pulled the phone away from my face, and hung up without saying anything else.

But I did it with a big, fat smile brightening every feature of my face.