Different Roads (11 page)

"Have you lost your mind?" I
folded my arms in front of me and shot her an ugly stare.

"What?" she said with mock
innocence. "Guys go out and start hooking up right away after a breakup.
It's time for you to go out and lay the first thing that's human looking and
willing. You know what they always say?"

"No, Shelley, what do they always
say?" I asked shaking my head.

"They always say that the best way
to get over an old love is to get under a new one."

"Getting under a new one is so not
in my plans for tonight," I said. I stared down at the floor and muttered,
"Or for any other night in the next thirty or forty years."

"Never say never," she smiled
and reached up into the kitchen cupboard to retrieve the bottle of tequila.
"What do ya say we do one or three for the road?"

"What? Did you call a taxi or
something to drive us?" I narrowed my eyes at her. "Because if I do
one or three shots of Cuervo, I'm not driving, and I damn well won't get in the
car with you if you do them."

"Limo," she said passing me
the bottle. "Stacy hired a limo to do the driving for us all tonight."

I raised my eyebrows at her, "A
limo. Nice. What about male strippers?"

"You got it. She reserved the back
room at Pete's," Shelley tipped back her head, downed the shot and
crinkled her face, "Gah that shit's disgusting."

"I don't think I'll be able to
handle all this excitement," I mumbled just before slamming the tequila.
"I mean, it's not every night I get to share the party room at Pete's with
a bunch of sex-crazed women shouting for some defenseless dude to take it off.
Can't wait."

Shelley
and I were the last stop for the limo before we parked in the back alley behind
Pete's. Pete's isn't a classy joint. In fact it's really kind of a dive. But
it's inviting in a sort of smoky, these-are-my-people kind of way.

            While
the girls sat dazed and mesmerized as the half-naked stripper worked his way
around the crowded room straddling and grinding against them suggestively, I
decided to sneak out before my turn came. Quietly opening the door between the
backroom and the main bar, I was able to slip out unnoticed. No way did I want
his g-stringed ass rubbing up against any part of me.

            Right
outside the backroom at Pete's there are two pool tables and an old jukebox.
When I slinked through the door separating the two rooms, everyone stopped what
they were doing and all eyes zeroed in on me. I'm sure it was because of the
female voices behind me shouting out such eloquent phrases as: "Oh yeah
baby. Let me
feel
that tight ass," or "Take it
all
off
you stud," booming loud and clear through the opened door.

            The
blood drained from my face and I stared at my feet as I made my way quickly
through the gawking mass of bewildered men. I was almost to the bar when two
black leather booted feet parked right under my floor-staring nose, stopping me
in my tracks. Slowly, I tipped my eyes into the cocky, smirking face of Damon
Blackwell.

            "Excuse
you," I snipped at him, and tried to sidestep around the brick wall of his
body.

            "Awe
Jaq, what's your damn hurry?" He grinned and repositioned himself in front
of me.

            "There's
a bottle of tequila at the bar with my name on it," I said as I planted my
fists on my hips. "I believe the last time you tried to keep me from the
tequila it earned you a punch in the face. Want to try for seconds?"

            He
grabbed hold of my wrist, "I don't
do
seconds, Jaq," he
sneered before flinging my arm away from him like it disgusted him to touch me.

            "Fuck,
who are you kidding Blackwell?" I said over my shoulder. "You'd do
whoever dropped her panties for you. Seconds or otherwise."

            I
hadn't realized we'd drawn the attention of several people until I heard the
snickers and someone clapped Damon on the back saying, "Damn Damon, losing
your touch a little bit there?" Which of course drew more laughter and
taunting. I bit the inside of my cheek and seated myself at the bar.

            I
didn't really want another shot of tequila since I had already had just enough
to give me a comfortably numb feeling. One more and I'd teeter right off that
edge and do a face plant later on.  "Just a glass of ice water for
now," I told the bartender.

            Taking
a sip of my water, I felt someone's eyes burning into me from across the bar. I
chanced a quick glance in his direction and he took it as an invitation to move
over next to me. "Hey. Don't I know you?" he asked, studying my face.

            "Hey,
didn't anyone tell you that's a lame pick-up line?" I said meeting his
dark eyes.

            "Yeah,
I do know you," he smiled. "You go out with Seth Thomas."

            All
the alcohol I'd consumed earlier congealed into a gooey blob in the bottom of
my stomach and I swallowed a few times to keep it from coming up. "Not
anymore," I said barely louder than a whisper.  There was a loud crack as
a hand smacked down on the bar right beside my arm nearly scaring me out of my
skin.

            "Yeah
and he's a damn fool, if you ask me," Damon said so softly, I wasn't sure
I'd heard him right.

            My
eyebrows drew into a frown, "What did you say?"

            "I
said he's a damn fool for dumping you the way he did," he repeated and
motioned for the bartender to bring him another Budweiser.

            "Some
guys just don't know what they have until they don't have it anymore," the
original guy pointed out. When I shot him a look, it dawned on me that I did
recognize him. It was Andy Miller from the night Seth and I went four-wheelin'. 
"Why'd you guys break up?" Andy asked.

            I
shrugged, "I Wish I knew the answer to that million dollar question."

            "You
don't really want to know that answer," Damon said as he started to walk
away with his beer.

            I
spun around on my barstool and hooked my finger through his belt loop, stopping
him in his tracks, "Hold up there Blackwell. What are you trying to say?"

            He
didn't try to pull out of the hold I had on him, but he didn't turn to face me
either. I watched his shoulders stiffen, "I'm just saying Seth is a
fuckin' idiot to get back with Bethany Tyler."

            I
released the hold I had on Damon's pants and my mouth dropped to my chest
simultaneously. Bethany Tyler. I wasn't sure if that was psycho ex number one,
of restraining order fame or psycho ex number two, of keying my car fame. When
I recovered my composure, I slid off the barstool and followed blindly behind
Damon. "You're a lying bastard," I hissed, poking my finger into his
chest.

            "Sorry,
I thought you already knew," he said. The steely glint in his eyes made it
clear to me that he was lying. Not about Seth being back with Bethany, but thinking
I already knew about it. "If it makes you feel any better, every guy within
a hundred mile radius thinks he's a freaking dick-weed for dumping you for that
skank."

            "No,"
I whispered.

            "No
what?" Damon cocked an eyebrow at me.

            "No,
it doesn't fucking make me feel any better," I said and brushed past him
into the back room filled with sex-crazed women. I dug into my pocket for a wad
of cash and waved a dollar in the air. I whistled loudly to get the half-naked
guy's attention. "Don't you think it's about my turn?"

Acceptance
is the fifth stage of grief and after talking to Damon at the bar the other
night, I finally came to the realization that Seth was never coming back and it
was time for me to move on. My idea of moving on, however, was not the same as
Shelley's definition. The whole over-under thing didn't really appeal to me
right now.

            I
didn't necessarily want to be with someone, but I was tired of being cooped up
in the house like some sort of reclusive outcast. I was only twenty years old,
and it was time to start living again. So when Shelley begged me to go with her
and Tim down to southern Illinois for a weekend of camping, hiking, fishing,
and just getting away from it all, I figured why the hell not?

            Of
course, Shelley neglected to mention that there were about twenty or so other people
also heading down with us. Shelley's not a liar. She just forgets to clue me in
on all of the details sometimes. Especially when she knows that I'm not going
to like what it is she has planned.

            I
was looking forward to roughing it for a few days. Although the cabins weren't
really roughing it, considering they were pretty modern, complete with
electricity and indoor plumbing. I made sure to pack my hiking gear and I
picked up the fishing equipment from my mom's garage the day before we were
scheduled to leave.

            December
had been filled with days that were warmer than usual. According to the weather
forecasts the unseasonably warm weather was supposed to hang around through the
weekend and be in the upper-fifties.

            "We're
taking Tim's truck, right?" I asked.

            "Not
exactly," Shelley said, all the while pretending to take inventory of her
bags by the door to avoid looking at me directly.

            My
forehead creased into a frown and I folded my arms in front of me, "What
do you mean,
not exactly
?"

            Before
she could fess up and let me in on the surprise she had in store, an air horn blasted
from the street in front of our house and Shelley giggled, "Our chariot
awaits, Cinderella." She flung open the door to reveal an old yellow
school bus with big black smiley face decals plastered all over it. From what I
could see from the front door, there were several people already on board.

            "What
the hell did I let you talk me into this time?" I sighed and shook my
head.

            She
took my hand and pulled me down the sidewalk toward our
chariot
,
"Oh lighten up. It'll be fun!"

            Tim
hopped down from behind the wheel of the bus and gave Shelley a quick kiss. He
shrugged his shoulders at me, "Sorry, Jaq. She wanted you to be surprised.
She didn't think you'd go if you knew there was a whole group of us
going."

            I
puffed my cheeks and let out a noisy breath, "This should be
interesting," I conceded and grabbed my fishing gear to load into the back
of the bus. Once everything was loaded, I climbed the steps. I didn't even bother
to scope out the rest of the passengers, I just sat down in the front seat
right behind Tim and Shelley slid in beside me.

            "Mad?"
she asked.

            "Nope,"
I muttered and gave her a sideways glance. "I don't get mad. I get even.
And I remember how much you
love
grasshoppers." I'm pretty sure the
color drained from her face instantaneously, and she might have even peed in
her pants a little. Exactly the reaction I was going for. Satisfied, I stuffed
a pillow between my head and the window and decided to rest for a little while
since we had about a three hour ride ahead of us.

            "Wake
up sleeping beauty," a vaguely familiar but not immediately recognizable
voice whispered in my ear sometime later. "We're here."

            I
squeezed my eyes tight. I so did not want to face the man behind that smooth as
warm butter voice. The voice famous for talking horny women everywhere out of
their panties for a night on board the Damon Blackwell fuck train. "If I
knew you were going to be here, I would have stayed home and watched sappy Lifetime
movies all weekend."

            "No
you wouldn't," he bumped his shoulder against mine. "Who knows, maybe
I'll finally get to hear you scream out my name later tonight."

            My
eyes shot open before they narrowed again, "And then, you can tell
everyone what you dreamed the next night, because my sleeping with you is so
not going to happen."

            "You
got that right sweet cheeks. There definitely won't be any
sleeping
involved," he chuckled and hopped up before I could take a swing at his
smug-ass face.

            I
shot Shelley a poisonous glare and poked my finger into her chest, "Do
not, I repeat,
do not
let me get so drunk that he starts to look good
enough to do stupid stuff with."

            Shelley's
face split into a wide grin, "Oh Jaq, admit it. Damon Blackwell looks good
enough to do stupid stuff with all the time. You could always just use him for
sex. Make him think it's his idea and then forget all about it when you get
back home."

            "Yeah.
No," I muttered.

It
was mid-morning by the time we arrived at Paradise Chateaus. What a laugh.
Paradise? Seriously? I mean it was a nice enough area, very scenic, but
hardly
paradise. And the Chateaus? Yeah. Cabins. Extremely rustic cabins. I slung my
bag over my shoulder and made my way up the narrow sidewalk toward the cabin I would
be sharing.