I’m in a car zooming down the highway. My brother Alex is driving. His friend, and my abductor, Jordan, sits shotgun. We haven’t been driving long. Only a few minutes. But it’s long enough for me to know we’re not just going to a local bar or strip club. We’re heading on to too big of a freeway for that.
But that’s fine by me. I’ve been to enough bars and clubs over the past several weeks, dating just about any girl who’ll let me put my hands on her.
It’s all to forget about her of course — to forget about commitment and what that used to mean to me — but it seems my brother and his friend have other ideas.
“So” — I fold my arms behind my head — “now that you’ve succeeded in dragging me out of my house and stuffing me in your fucking car, mind telling me where we’re off to?” My question is mostly directed at Alex, who I can see in the rearview mirror.
“It’s a surprise,” he tells me. I hear the smile in his voice, and see it reflected in his eyes. They have those stripper-pole-elf twinkles in them.
While part of me appreciates his attempt at being coy, another part of me hates it. It still wasn’t my idea to go on a road trip today. “I don’t like surprises.” Not after what Darla put me through, I add silently.
“You’ll like this surprise, yo,” says Jordan, turning around in his seat. As he does, he lights up a cigarette. By the sweet smell, it’s one of those expensive ones. With less nicotine in them. “Think of the place we’re taking you to as an early Christmas present.” He pauses, looking at my brother for backup. For a moment, it looks as though they share an inside joke. Eyes back to me, he says, “Better than what that hoe Darla gave you, man.”
I sigh, turning my eyes back to the rearview mirror.
My brother’s gaze meets me there. “Trust me, my brother.” His eyes soften. “Think of all this as an opportunity to get out. Get away from typical watering holes and basic bitches. Where I’m taking you, you’ll think you died and went to Heaven.”
He flicks on the radio, bringing up a bit of jazz. Maybe to relax me. Maybe to get me in some kind of mood. Whatever the reason, I’m suddenly surrounded by saxophones and softly beating drums. “Just sit back and enjoy the next few days. Jordan and I have your back.”
“You are the only straight guy I know who likes jazz,” I tease him.
But something about the music and Alex’s words relax me. The entire aura of the car melts tension from my shoulders and lower back. Places I didn’t even know were so fucking tight until they weren’t. “Whatever you say, Alex. I’m counting on you.” I prop my feet on the back of his seat, making sure he feels a bit of jiggling. “Don’t fuck this up.”
After that, we all just sit back and enjoy the music. The roads are clear for the most part, so driving is smooth. Effortless. We travel like that for what seems like fucking hours.
Somewhere in the middle of it we change from jazz to classical rock, but the biggest change comes in the scenery out the window. I begin to see more snow and ice. More hills. But finally, after what seems like another hour or two, I see mountains.
Not just any mountains, though. The best mountains for skiing. The ones in Aspen, Colorado.
“We’re going to Aspen,” I say, straightening up in my seat and feeling legitimately excited for the first time since this road trip began. “For a ski trip.”
I look to Jordan, who seems content to make me work for it.
“Not just a ski trip,” he says. “It’s more than that.”
“But you’ll have to wait and see when we get there,” adds my brother, switching on his headlights for the darkening road. “I’m not telling you any more than that.”
***
When we finally make it up and through the mountains and to the ski resort, I’m ready to get out of the car and get a drink. It seems Alex and Jordan feel the same way, as they immediately drag me with them to a bar inside the main lodge.
As we make our way through the lodge and toward the darker, seductive embrace of the bar, I see beautiful women everywhere I look. They’re all in their winter coats and boots, making me think of fuzzy snow bunnies. But cuter. Sexier. Their faces are all glowing with a bit of cold air, exercise and alcohol.
And that’s when some part of my brother’s secret mission dawns on me: the girls. The women.
Just as I have this realization, the three of us duck into the bar and swim upstream to a cluster of seats close to the bartender. As all three of us take our seats and peruse the drink menu, my brother finally lets me in on his secret. On his reason for dragging me here two days shy of Christmas. “By all the pretty women swarming this place, I’m sure you have a good guess as to why I brought you here, right?”
I nod, deciding on a shot of tequila, and then take a quick glance around the bar. There are lookers here as well. Blondes, brunettes, a few redheads — all with hips and tits and asses to die for. Even some dark-haired beauties with laughter as sweet as honey, and smiles as sparkly the snow outside. But I’m not interested in any of them. “To get laid?” I ask, finally answering his question.
The bartender brings Jordan a rum and Coke, and my brother a German-imported beer.
“You don’t need just a fuck, man,” says Jordan from over his straw. “If that was enough, we wouldn’t need to take you here’s a get your mind off your ex.” A pause, while he sucks down a bit of his drink. “You need an experience.”
“And we’re gonna help you get it,” chimes in Alex, delicately eating the foam from the top of his beer.
I take a look at the girls sitting around the bar, flitting in and out of shadows and neon. “Nah,” I say. “None of these girls are gonna do it for me.” Right on cue, my shot of tequila comes and I knock it back. “I’m 38. I don’t need or want another queen.” I grimace, savoring the burn of tequila in the back of my throat. “Some bitch who’s going to demand shit from me.”
My eyes as zero in on a particular girl. One who’s drinking a little pink Martini. Something my ex would’ve ordered. “What I need is a girl who is submissive, yet feisty. And I don’t think there’s any girl here that fits that bill.”
I order another tequila shot.
My brother pats me on the back. “You let us worry about that, bro.”
My second shot comes and goes as quickly as the first.
“We’ll help you find the right girl, yo.” That’s Jordan, and he’s halfway through with his rum and Coke. “By Christmas, you’ll be jingling all the way.”