In the Mix Read online

  “I know you will.” She pats the top of my hand with her other. “You never ask for help. I know you hate this. We’ll make it work,” Ava says with tears in her eyes. Fuck. I hate when she does this.

  “Only God and the GEGs will judge you.” Julie nudges my shoulder with her hand.

  Maddie breaks out in another fit of laughter. I’d say it’s the margaritas hitting her hard tonight, but she always does this. She thinks of something funny—usually a memory—and goes into what looks like a seizure before she can even tell us what’s on her mind. By that point, even if it’s not funny, we’re all laughing our asses off at her. Chain reaction, if you will.

  “What?!” we all yell at her in unison.

  She gasps.

  She snorts.

  She may have farted because she’s laughing harder now.

  We’re all now laughing hysterically like a bunch of fucking assholes.

  “Do you . . . do you . . . do you . . .” She tries to tell us.

  “What?!” We sing like a choir. No really, that’s how it sounded. Like a choir of Sopranos . . . dying.

  “Do you . . . phew . . . remember our pledge in high school?” She finally gets out. We all laugh again before straightening up in our chairs. I take a fork and tap it on my beer bottle three times before putting it down again. We all stare straight-faced at each other (ok . . . we’re trying to. There may be some cheek biting to stop from smiling.).

  “GEG Roll Call!” I command authoritatively. “CiCi!”

  “Charley!”

  “Ava!”

  “Maddie!”

  “Julie!”

  “Salute!” I yell. We all flip our birds up. “GEG Pledge!”

  “I pledge allegiance to the GEGs

  Only God and you girls can judge me.

  And to the music of our favorite boy bands

  We will rock it out—we will dance

  With coordination—and with soul

  Promising to never become assholes.”

  “Boy, did we fail!” Julie laughs.

  “We did. But that’s a good thing,” Ava says, her tears filling her eyes again. Christ . . . she isn’t even drinking. We all sit in collective silence, knowing Ava has a long drawn out speech to deliver. “Who has this? Like us?” She throws her hands out. “I know I’m the one out of us five that is the most serious and I give you girls a hard time. I can’t imagine it any other way between us. I wouldn’t want to! We’ve been friends most of our lives. We’ve been through everything together. Sure, we have other friends that are good friends and have been there for things. But . . . not like us. Not everything. No one knows me like you girls. I don’t think anyone ever will. There’s something special about being friends as long as we have. The ability to act like a complete moron with you girls serves as a form of therapy that, unfortunately, a lot of people don’t understand. I feel sad for them. I can’t imagine not having this. I can’t imagine my life without any of you.” She looks around at all of us.

  “We do the grown-up thing pretty well, too. We do it differently than most, but that’s us . . . different,” Charley pipes up, tears conquering her face.

  “Here’s to laughing our way through life . . . even the tough shit. I love you girls!” Maddie lifts her glass. We follow.

  “Cheers, Asswhores!” we all say in unison, clinking our glasses.

  “I can’t believe it!” A certain Brit, by the name of Blake, yells over the microphone. “Do we have all five of the GEGs here with us tonight?!”

  “Oh Christ,” Julie groans.

  “You are fucking crazy. If I wasn’t with . . . if I were you, I’d be climbing that hot piece of ass, permanently.” I slap her arm.

  “Ohhhh!” they all yell in my direction.

  “Floor has been opened by you, young lady!” Maddie taps her glass. “Woot woooo!” she bellows out. Oh . . . she’s about one more drink away from being completely shitfaced.

  “Take it easy with the drinks, shortstack.” I warn.

  “She’s right . . .” Charley trails off.

  “I’m not talking about Kyle.” I shake my head.

  “Paging the GEGs to the stage! Get your pretty arses up here,” Blake says.

  “Saved by the Brit!” I smile and get up. “C’mon girls; Julie’s boyfriend beckons,” I announce then take off towards him.

  “He’s not my boyfriend!” she yells after me. Yeah right! I don’t know why she’s so afraid to commit to him. He’s a great guy, treats her well, makes her laugh, and is as patient as a nun with her. Did I mention that he’s fucking hot-as-hell? I mean, what is wrong with her?!

  “What kind of mood is she in tonight, Ceese?” Blake asks as he gives me a hug.

  “I don’t know. It’s kind of been about me tonight, narcissist that I am.”

  “You’re no bloody help, lady,” he teases me before giving Julie his attention. “Julie, you look revolting tonight. Honestly, I can’t even bear to look at you. I don’t think I can put you up on the stage tonight. I’m trying to bring customers in, not send them away, for Christ’s sake.” He throws his hand up. I’m standing here like all. . . . huh? He leans into my ear again when he sees my confusion. “Hot off the press this week, Ceese! I’m not allowed to compliment her anymore.” He straightens up and rolls his eyes.

  “Are you still getting booty calls?”

  “Of course!” He jerks his head back like I asked a crazy question.

  “Julie!” I grab her attention then lean in. “Blake really hates pounding you in the ass.”

  “The way you girls talk to each other never gets old to me,” he laughs. “Yes, Julie, for Christ’s sake, please stop asking me to do that to you.”

  “Only if you stop making me shove my dildo up yours!” she retorts sarcastically then pushes past him, knocking his shoulder with hers as she does.

  “Bloody hell . . .” he trails off then lets out a sigh. “I can’t win with her.” He shakes his head. “Go on up there, will ya? What are you girls going to sing?”

  “’5 Years Time’ by Noah and the Whale. We were having a nice I love you, man moment before. That song is perfect for it.” I pat his shoulder. Poor guy. I don’t know why he hangs in there.

  In case you weren’t aware, Mick & Marley’s pub is our local hang out. Blake’s grandfather started it. He passed it down to Blake when his son declined. No surprise there, Blake’s father is too much of a stiff collar to appreciate the crowd here. Blake has always loved this place. He not only runs it but he’s the one who ran it out of the ground when he started featuring local bands. Of course, he’s in one of those local bands featured. He plays the drums and he’s pretty damn good at it! He also plays Julie’s main fuck buddy. I don’t blame her—I’d fuck him. Except, I can’t think of being with anybody really, not since I met Kyle. Blake is a great guy, though and he’s the only one she’s ever meshed well with. I wish she would give him an honest chance. He fits right in with us. It’s not easy keeping up with the GEGs, as you can imagine.

  Kyle could keep up. I’m still trying to digest all that has happened in the past twenty-four hours. This party should be interesting. I don’t know what I’m going to say to him. I’m sort of regretting pushing him away today. I’m not sure I am ready for what he brings to the table. It’s something I’m so used to not having, how am I supposed to learn how to be comfortable with having it. I don’t know . . . I’m a fucking mess.

  All five of us get on stage. We’ve been doing group performances since we were teenagers but now we just keep it to Karaoke. We’re pretty well known and with good reason—we kick ass on the stage!

  Back off? Back off?! Can you believe that? No, I’m not pissed. I’m fucking livid! It’s been five hours since I’ve received that text and it’s all I see, all I can think about. Maybe she is too much for me. I should cut my losses and walk away. Clearly, she wants no part of any sort of legit relationship.

  Anger to the side, the more I go back and forth between her up and down behavi
or the past few weeks, I’m realizing there are two parts to CiCi. There’s the side she shows (boldly, mind you) to everyone and the side (the vulnerable one) she’s been showing me here and there. That’s got to mean something, right?

  Maybe her saying “back off” was a positive thing; I struck a chord with her that scared her, perhaps? Pushing the commitment word probably did it. I just . . . Christ, I wish I knew what the fuck happened in her past. I want to understand this better. I need a bone thrown to me, here. I have no idea what I’m dealing with. I hate that shit. I like to be prepared; have all of my I’s dotted and T’s crossed.

  “Dude!” Mitch barks behind me. I turn away from the window to face him. He lets out a long sigh, shaking his head. “Do we need to have a ‘don’t be a pussy’ talk?” he asks.

  I laugh but I think I may actually need one of those talks. “Yeah, I think so, man.”

  “Don’t be a fucking pussy! Call her out on her shit and don’t take any more of it. Time for you to fully get in the driver’s seat, buddy.” He throws his jacket on.

  “What happened to the ‘walk away’ speech?”

  “Nah. Forget that. She’s got feelings for you. I could see that the other night. Get to the bottom of it with her. You have to figure this shit out. I get the feeling that she really needs you.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I ask, panic setting in. Does he know something he’s not telling me?

  “It’s just a feeling, Kyle. You know I’d tell you if I knew anything. CiCi has been really off lately. You seem to be the only one getting through to her.” He picks his briefcase up. “C’mon, clock out . . . go home.”

  “She told me to back off. I poured my heart out today in a letter and she told me to back off.” I look at him for some sort of explanation, if he has one. I wish somebody had one. I’m not picky—I’ll take any bullshit theory somebody can come up with.

  “You’re getting too close,” he offers.

  “Too close to what?” I jerk my head back.

  “Her heart. See you Monday, man,” he says before turning on his heel to leave.

  “It’s only Thursday!” I yell after him.

  “I’m spending the day with Charlotte tomorrow . . . to properly grovel—all day.”

  “Own that shit, man!” I laugh at him. Fucking shithead deserves it. He turns and shoots me both barrels, fully loaded . . . with my signature smirk. Punk. I have to laugh. I’m really happy for him. I’m glad he’s found his purpose in life and that it’s not just work. Nobody’s purpose in life should just be work. Yes, one should take pride in what they do but it shouldn’t be their only legacy. You haven’t accomplished anything if you haven’t earned the love and respect of your family, friends, and peers.

  I plop into my chair with a heavy sigh. I really don’t know what to do. Honestly, I have never put so much thought and fight into winning over a chick in my life. I think it’s safe to say, though, that CiCi is in a category of her own and that is, most likely, why I have done so. Should it really be this hard? Why does it seem like for everyone else it’s Poof! They’re the one! I thought you were supposed to fall out of nowhere; didn’t even see it coming. That sort of thing? This seems like way too much work.

  I like work.

  I like figuring shit out.

  I’m such a dork.

  Fuck it. Sitting in this office any longer is not going to give me the answers I need. It’ll just remind me of the things I could be working on. I get up, grabbing my jacket and briefcase. I wish I could have the damn day off tomorrow.

  “Good Lord, son, you look like hell,” Mom states the obvious.

  I push my shades up and glare at her.

  “Don’t give me that tone of look! What happened? You weren’t out all night drinking, were you?”

  I push my shades back down, ignoring her for the closest seat.

  “Kyle! What is wrong with you?” She swats my back when I let my head fall to my arms on the kitchen table.

  “I listened to my mother, that’s what’s wrong with me.”

  “What on earth are you talking about?” She seats herself to my right.

  “I sent her the damn notes!” I lift my head and hand for emphasis.

  “What happened?”

  “She told me to back off.” I grumble.

  “So your answer was to get drunk?” she asks, her tone laced thick with disapproval.

  “Nope. I waited a day to do that. Then I did something so awesome I pretty much want to shoot myself for it.”

  “Kyle, don’t talk like that!” she snaps. “What did you do?” she asks, softening her tone.

  “I drunk-texted her. Ya know, just to make myself seem extra creepy to her. Which, as her texted reply, confirms—I succeeded.” I slowly bang my head on my folded arms. The memory shoots back in my mind like a fucking nightmare.

  Play this! This is what you do to me . . .

  Patsy Cline—I Fall To Pieces—Single Version

  What do you rise to?

  I think you know the answer to that.

  Jesus . . . you had risen!

  I shall rise again . . .

  Not with me.

  Yes, I will. You are mine.

  Kyle, you are creeping me out! Please stop.

  What did he do to you?

  Who?

  The fucking bastard, keeping you from me.

  I don’t know what you’re talking about.

  I’ll make him pay.

  Are you drinking?

  What if I am?

  Stop the crazy talk and go to bed.

  Crazy! Another song by the great Patsy Cline!

  Are you home? Where are you? You better not drive!

  Will you come and pick me up?

  Where are you?

  You’d come and get me?

  Of course!

  You don’t want anything to happen to me?

  No.

  So you care about me?

  Yes, I’m very concerned about you.

  Why?

  Because you sound about 2 seconds away from flashing your vagina to everyone.

  What?

  Stop acting like a pussy!

  At least I’m not acting like a cunt, like you!

  Wow . . . only took you 5 mins to come up with such a big word.

  Asshole.

  ^^^ took me 2 seconds ^^^

  I’ll give you extra points, though for use of a comma in an inebriated state.

  I’m not in a coma. You are.

  Commmmma!

  Dumbass.

  You breathe but you don’t live.

  You’re not living. You’re existing.

  You’re running from me because you are afraid of how I make you feel!

  Oh, please!

  Fuck, you just made my cock twitch!

  What?!

  All I hear now is you whimpering, “oh, please . . .” the other night

  When I had my cock buried so deep in that tight little pussy of yours.

  You think my pussy feels tight and little?

  No.

  I know it is.

  And . . .

  It felt amazing, wrapped so sweetly around me.

  Do you remember how hard you came all over my cock, baby?

  Don’t call me baby.

  CiCi! Do you remember?!

  Yes . . .

  I’ve never come like that before.

  The hottest part was me watching you, watching my cock slam into you over and over.

  I’m a visual fucker. If my pussy’s getting it good, I want to see it.

  I gave it to you good?

  My pussy is still slightly sore . . .

  Wear a dress tomorrow.

  Why?

  Because the moment I get you alone at the party, I’m going to make sure there’s nothing slight about the soreness of your pussy.

  No.

  If you bother to wear panties, you won’t be wearing them after I’m done.

  It’s not happening.

  D
ress. No panties. I’m taking what’s mine.

  I’m not yours!

  The hell you aren’t!

  I won’t come to the party, then.

  You will come to the party and you will COME at that party!

  NO I WON’T! GOODBYE!

  You’re going to do this to Linz?

  Please stop . . .

  You better show up tomorrow.

  Or?

  Don’t test me.

  I will be there tomorrow but . . .

  But what?

  Don’t bring drunk Kyle . . . he creeps me out.

  You do realize you are saying this to drunk Kyle, right?

  Yeah, but that’s ok.

  Why is that ok?

  Though drunk Kyle can still text in a grammatically correct fashion, he won’t remember doing it.

  He will remember.

  No he won’t. Stop speaking in 3rd person.

  You’re speaking in 3rd person.

  Where?

  Where what?

  Go to bed . . . you’re drunk.

  You’re beautiful.

  Question?

  Yes?

  I want to know what those abbreviations meant.

  Ooo . . . has it been driving you crazy?

  Yes, like most things you do.

  What do I get?

  You’re gonna get my foot up your ass in a moment!

  Tell me!

  Say something dirty to me and I will.

  Something dirty to me.

  You’re impossible.

  . . .

  L.L.Y.P. = Love licking your pussy.

  I.T.L.P. = It tastes like peaches.

  Sweet, I should be a hit at the Farmer’s Market then!

  I’m sure you could sell your line of bullshit there, too.

  In the manure section.

  Yeah, I got the point. Lol.

  I do love it, though. And I can’t wait to taste you again.

  Bye . . .

  Tomorrow?

  Today.

  It’s 3 am.

  I’ll be waiting.

  You had to close out with one more creepy line, didn’t you?

  So I creep . . . yeah . . .

  Shut-up, Left-smirk

  LOL . . . I get it!

  Congrats! Go to bed now, Asshat!

  Sweet talker.

  Night, beautiful . . .

  Night.