Kicking Reality

I make my way back to the edge when all of a sudden, I lose my balance from the nudge of his arm and teeter on the edge of the pool before my body hits the cold water. The impact of the fall drags me under; the suddenness making me swallow some water as I swish my arms, swimming until my head is above water.

“You asshole!” I yell, trying to swim to the side fully clothed. It’s a lot more difficult than swimming in a bikini.

He sits on the edge—squatting—staring me down. “I said we weren’t kids, never said I wasn’t an asshole.”

I growl in annoyance, using my leg to climb over and out of the pool. With the jerk walking away, I run towards him and jump on his back like I had done a million times before. This time it’s harder, his height and hard muscles making it difficult for me to latch on. When the fuck did he get so tall? Or maybe I’m shrinking . . .

“Payback is sweet . . . dear old friend.”

He continues to walk, not fazed that I am hanging on his back like a desperate monkey. “You’ve got to do more than jump on my back fully wet, to pay me back.”

“Oh don’t you worry Carrington, game on.”

“Game on?” he laughs, mocking me.

“Game on,” I repeat, jumping off his back as I open the door to a screaming match going on in the house.

“There aren’t enough rounds of drinks

to cure the broken hearted.”

~ Emerson Chase

It was the most awkward car ride in the history of car rides. Ash took to the wheel like a crazed maniac with Logan sitting equally agitated beside him. I sat in the back with Alessandra, making small talk to pass the time. I couldn’t fault her; she answered every question with ease and even spoke about her profession—nursing.

It began to make sense . . . sort of. She is very attractive plus wore a nurse’s uniform for a living. Ash and Logan used to kid around about nurses being their ultimate fantasy. It was during these conversations that I used to tune out. They thought of me as one of the guys but little did they know I had zero interest in fucking nurses.

No wonder Ash wanted to marry her.

We stumbled into Harrys’ joint—a local bar that had a jukebox as old as Betty White and a dingy pool table nestled in a dimly lit corner. It was ten miles from home and quiet for a Saturday night. It smelled of cigars, mixed with stale beer and man sweat. Three of my least favorite things.

Only a minute of being inside, Ash ordered a round of beers, ignoring us while he isolated himself in the corner rubbing chalk on his cue. Alessandra walks over, placing her hand on his shoulder only for him to remove it.

“Great,” I mumble from where I’m leaning against the bar. “This will not end well.”

Logan positions himself next to me, watching them with boredom. “You’re telling me. Fuck, your dad was so pissed I could practically see the steam shooting out of his ears.”

It prompted me to text Mom. I knew it had upset her even though she wasn’t as vocal as Dad. Pulling my cell out of my purse, I quickly send her a text asking if she is OK. Since my cell was still in hand, I also texted Wes, hoping to have a quick chat with him and reconcile after last night.

A few seconds later, I see my screen light up with a text from Mom:

I’ll be ok kiddo. Just need to process.

I let out a sigh, gazing at my brother. He didn’t know how many lives he affected by making a rash decision. It was fair to say we were all hurting in some way or another, the moron just didn’t care.

Logan nudges me to follow him to the pool table, carrying the tray of beers. By the time we get there, Ash and Alessandra have reconciled, making out like lovesick fools in front of us.

Gross. Nobody wants to see their brother making out . . . ever.

I grab a beer off the tray, almost chugging it in one go. It didn’t sit too well in my stomach; my body used to the high-end martinis at Hollywood parties. But I didn’t want to be that person, especially in front of the boys. I would never hear the end of it.

We decide to play a game of pool. Ash and Alessandra versus me and Logan. It was great to let our hair down, and even better that the four of us could unwind in a place where no one knew who we were. In the eyes of the few patrons hanging around, we were a bunch of rowdy drunks playing pool in the corner. I craved this type of solitude. Filming a reality show meant we always had cameras around us. Cliff believed that to catch the essence of a person’s life, cameras needed to follow them twenty-four-seven. Thankfully, after much negotiation, they permitted me to be camera-free for the weekend.

Ash and Logan were in the same boat. Their back-to-back wins meant they were in the public eye more than they cared to be. Soccer is huge in Europe and overnight, the both of them became household names.

Side-tracked by my thoughts, I catch up to the conversation which happens to be about Star Wars. It forces me to walk back to the bar, ordering something my stomach would agree with.

“Hey Harry,” I greet in a chilled voice, menu in hand. “What do you recommend?”