Chapter 11 #2
Alyssa interrupts, “Lesbians also have food red flags, but they’re different from straight people’s food red flags. Women who don’t like sushi are a huge red flag for us.” She wiggles her eyebrows up and down, and we all laugh.
Twenty minutes later, we walk into the airport, and I notice a luggage store in the terminal. I turn to the girls. “Why is there always a shop selling luggage at the airport? Who’s going on vacation, carrying armfuls of clothing, saying, I'll pack when we get to the airport?”
Sulley shrugs. “That’s a good point. Maybe it’s for people who break their luggage.”
I shake my head. “No way. Are there really enough people who break their luggage to necessitate an entire store dedicated to it at the airport?”
They all laugh like I’m the funniest person on the planet.
I’m not sure I’ve ever had teammates who are as amused by my often-off-putting sense of humor as this group.
We’ve known each other for less than a year, but they’re already the best friends I’ve ever had.
They accept me for me, and I’ve truly never had friends who have done that before.
I don’t think I realized how much I needed it until I had it.
Sulley leans over to my ear. “Don’t forget that your brother’s birthday is next week. You’re going to get him those shoes he wants, right?”
Fucking expensive shoes. “Maybe something a little less extravagant is in order.”
She crosses her arms in obvious disapproval. Always pushing. She’s a pain in my ass.
I look back and yell, “Hurry up, Booster,” taking my frustrations out on my intern as he struggles to carry all our luggage through the airport.
He momentarily drops the bags to adjust the crotch of his tight gray sweatpants. “I’m doing my best, Queen. It’s umm…a little hot in here.”
Sulley gives me a bemused expression as she whispers, “I can’t believe you make him wear those sweatpants that are purposely a size too small.”
I shrug. “I told you before, it’s payback for decades of men forcing women in their employment to wear small, uncomfortable clothing.”
I’m always forcing him to wear clothing that is too small for him.
Shorts, pants, T-shirts, sweatshirts. All of them.
It wildly amuses me to see him struggle.
Do men think women enjoy wearing short skirts, tight midriff-bearing shirts, and high heels to serve food and alcohol for an eight-hour shift?
Hell no. It’s time for men to suffer too.
She whispers back, “He’s a nice guy, he works for you for free, and he actually works hard at it. Give him a break now and then.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh, please. He loves the attention. When has a woman as hot as me ever given him the time of day?”
She smiles as she shakes her head in exasperation.
“If he were so miserable, he would quit,” I add.
She raises her eyebrows like she’s scolding me, and now I feel bad. Crap, I’ll do something nice for the little shit.
We get to the plane and wait at the bottom of the steps while Booster loads everything for us. God, I love having him around. When he’s finished, I turn to him. “Enjoy your weekend off…after you pick up my dry cleaning.”
He nods. “Yes, Queen. It’s already on our shared calendar. I’m on top of it.”
I hand him a credit card. “Oh, and can you please buy my brother those Alexander McQueen sneakers he’s been wanting for his birthday next week? The ones my parents refuse to buy him because of the cost.”
I hear a squeal of excitement from Sulley while Booster grins widely. “Oh wow,” he exclaims. “He’s going to freak out. He’s been dying for those and was so bummed when your parents told him no. He and I were salivating over them in a store window just the other day.”
I feel an elbow from Sulley before she clears her throat.
I look at her, and she nods. She’s like a damn angel on my shoulder, always pushing me to make the “right” decision.
I’ve traditionally preferred to listen to the devil on the other shoulder, but Sulley’s voice has become louder over the past year.
I’m dangerously close to becoming a nice person.
Exhaling a long breath, I point at the card. “Get a pair for yourself too. Consider it your bonus for doing such a great job for me over the past few months.”
His face lights up like it’s the greatest news he’s ever received. “Are you for realz right now?”
“As realz as tits on a bull,” I respond.
He looks at me in confusion, not remotely understanding my joke. I shove him. “Just go get the sneakers for both of you. Enjoy them. Don’t do something stupid like walking in mud with them on the first day.”
He bounces up and down like a little girl. “Thank you, Queen. Have a great trip. I’ll be right here waiting to pick you up on Sunday with the Chinese takeout you requested.”
I pat him on the head. “Good boy. Don’t forget the chow mein.”
He nods, and then we finally ascend the steps onto the plane. Sulley throws her arm around me. “Didn’t that feel good?”
I scowl at her, knowing how much that just cost me. “You now have to buy me drinks tonight. Actually, for the whole weekend,” I mumble.
She giggles. “Deal. Totally worth it to see how excited he was.”
“Hmm, tell that to my declining credit.”
We walk onto the plane and two women in pilots’ uniforms greet us. “Welcome,” the younger one says. “I’m Alana.” She points to the middle-aged woman next to her. “Jean and I will be your pilots today. The skies are blue and clear. It should be an easy ride. Sit back and enjoy.”
“Ooh,” I respond, “women pilots. It’s not a cockpit on this airplane. It’s a clitpit.”
The older woman spits her water, but my girls all laugh. They’re such a good audience for me.
As we walk further into the plane, I see Daylen placing his bag into the overhead bin. His wrinkled T-shirt raises slightly, revealing his toned abs. He’s so solid, and he’s got one of those paths of dirty blond hair from his belly button that disappears into his jeans. It’s kind of hot.
I shake my head in disbelief of where my mind went. Where did that come from?
I then notice a rose tattoo on the side of his abdomen with the name Rose written under it. Ugh, men with tattoos of women’s names on their bodies. That’s certainly a mainstay on my red flag list. I’ve honestly never met a man who encompasses more of my red flags than Daylen Humblecut.
I swear I did my best to be nicer to him after the New Year’s Eve incident.
I was truly appreciative of what he did and bit my tongue at his ridiculousness for weeks.
But it’s like he hated me being nice to him, and he went out of his way to be extra douchey to me.
By the end of January, we were back to our verbal sparring where we belong, as if New Year’s Eve never happened.
I look at him. “Speaking of men who probably can’t find a clit, good morning, Daylen,” I say in an over-the-top fake cheery voice.
He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re so damn negative. Can’t you ever just walk into a room and say something nice to me?”
I cross my arms. “I’m not here to build you up, Hannibal Lecter. If you’re broken, you’re a project, and I’m not Home Depot.”
He exhales a long breath. “Who brought her?”
“I did,” Layla happily sings as she throws her arms around me. “And I’m so happy she’s here. We’re going to have the best time,” she squeals as she kisses my cheek.
I look around and take in my surroundings. Holy shit, private planes are like floating houses. “This is really nice, Layla. Thank you,” I express to her sincerely.
She smiles. “My absolute pleasure. Get ready for the most memorable weekend of your life, girlfriend.”
I rub my hands together with excitement. “I’m ready.”
After takeoff, everyone crowds around the big table and begins drinking.
I hang back for a moment. It’s not even eight in the morning, and it’s going to be a long day.
I need to pace myself so I don’t have a repeat performance of New Year’s Eve.
That night scared the shit out of me. I’ve barely had more than an occasional glass of wine since.
I know I should probably talk to someone about that night, but I’m kind of embarrassed by my naivety and equally embarrassed that Daylen was the one who saved me.
I’ve had more than a handful of nightmares of what could have happened if Daylen hadn’t noticed what was being done to my drink.
Despite our return to verbal jabs, I’ve softened on him.
How could I not after what he did? He may be an annoying Neanderthal without an ounce of sexual appeal, but he’s a good guy.
Okay, maybe he’s a little more appealing than he used to be, but obviously I’ll never go there.
I notice one of the flight attendants flirting with him as she offers him a drink.
He’s got her laughing, along with everyone else in earshot.
I remember what he said about choosing happiness every day.
He’s definitely one cheery motherfucker who gets off on making everyone around him laugh and smile.
While I find it irritating, I suppose there are worse things a man could be.
And then I consider my earlier thoughts of having a group of friends who laugh at my over-the-top jokes. I suppose I enjoy making people laugh too. That might be the only thing we have in common.
Sulley walks off to chat with an older couple hitching a ride with us. I think she said they’re Reagan’s mother and stepfather. I should probably also say hello at some point.
I step into her spot around the big table. Beau is telling everyone his beliefs on how testosterone helps build muscle and how increasing cholesterol intake plays an important role in that. Sometimes I don’t understand half of what comes out of Beau’s mouth. He’s freakishly smart.
He looks at the guys. “I can’t believe you all don’t drink Boner Shakes.”
What? Now he has my attention.
He continues. “Trust me. It helps build muscle. The added benefit is it will be the best and biggest boner of your life. Guaranteed.”
I smile. “We know from those anonymous online photos that Daylen could use help in that department.”
Daylen narrows his eyes at me, and I can’t help but laugh.
Okay, so it’s just the opposite. I didn’t see much of his dick, but I saw enough to know it’s not small, not small at all.
I may have had a dream or two about the handful of seconds it was rubbing through me.
I don’t think he realizes it happened, but it did.
It figures the only remotely attractive thing about the man would be something that’s covered most of the time.
Beau continues, “All you need is four eggs, a scoop of vanilla protein powder, and water. You shake it up in the evening and then drink it. Overnight, the uptick in cholesterol will trigger an increase in testosterone production. You’ll feel like the Incredible Hulk during your morning workout, lifting weights you never imagined possible.
You’ll have the added effect of the boner.
But it’s the egg, powder, and water that make the magic. That is what you call a Boner Shake.”
“Huh?” Sulley interrupts as she rejoins the circle. “What in the world did I miss?”
Layla, who was apparently taking notes, gives Sulley a summary of the Boner Shake recipe. Like me, she’s much more focused on the larger erection than on the muscle-building effects of it.
Daylen then makes a series of crude jokes. I swear, every time I think something nice about him, it’s like he knows and says something stupidly annoying.