A Is for Alpha Male (15 page)

My mom nodded frantically, her hand doing a flapping wave that said, “Go, go. It’s fine.”

I took her cue, not wasting any time double checking, swiped the key card off of the dresser, and took off out the door.

As I walked I told Danny, “I’m just going down to the beach. Mind if I call you back when I get down there? I might lose you in the elevator anyway if I don’t.”

Wait a second. Who was this girl? And what had she done with me?

Tied me up somewhere and gagged me, apparently.

Not even giving him a chance to answer, I just hung up. I didn’t need to ask effing permission. Now, I could have explained that to him and changed my tune, but Jesus, that would have been so long winded and full of effort. Hanging up was much easier.

This would be a good test to see how well he thought he knew me after our limited time together.

Half jogging, half skipping, I made short work of the hall, punched the call button for the elevator, practically jumped inside when it dinged open, and then pushed the “L” button for lobby repeatedly. I knew it wouldn’t make the elevator operate any faster, but that didn’t stop me.

The doors eventually closed, allowing the car to coast gracefully down six floors to the lobby. I speed walked out, tucked my head so I didn’t have to meet anyone’s eyes in my relatively skimpy pajamas, and then went out the doors on the back of the hotel.

As I went by the pool, I grabbed a towel from the little hut. It was totally “illegal”, or in breach of hotel rules, but there was no way I was going to sit directly on the sand in my pajamas.

Whatever. If hotel management caught me, I would just have to make sure I went down fighting. If I was going to end up in the slammer on this trip, it was going to be for something more serious than after hours towel “borrowing”.

I semi-ran all the way to the beach, my breathing turning ragged due to lack of exercise, fluffed my contraband towel out in front of me, and then gracelessly collapsed into a heaving, sweaty mess on my back, my face pointed up toward the stars.

I took a few moments to compose myself, swiped my phone open, went into recent calls, and hit Danny’s name to call him back.

When his voice came over the line, it was what I would describe as a good-tempered growl. “I’m not real fond of being hung up on, Hales.”

I opted for the doe-eyed-innocence act. “Oh? I’m sorry. I come by it honestly. My brother does the same thing. Just hangs up mid-conversation.”

“Hales.”

Okay, so he wasn’t falling for the innocent act. I couldn’t blame him. I wasn’t that great of an actress.

“Alright, fine. I was just being a little too accommodating and that was the only way to balance the scales.”

“I figured as much. You sounded a little too sweet. Thought I accidentally called the
other
Haley in my phonebook.”

A little shocked squeak sounded in the night, and then I realized it was me.
I
was the thing that was squeaking. “There’s another Haley in your phonebook?” The indignation in my voice was downright palpable.

He burst out laughing, but somehow managed an explanation around his mirth. “No, baby. If you want the truth, I’m pretty sure there are five names in my phonebook, maximum.”

“Not many friends then, huh?” I questioned.

There was a pause, and if I wasn’t mistaken, it was pretty heavy with meaning.

“My inner circle is kept pretty tight...sometimes unbearably so,” he murmured, the volume of his voice tapering off as he went. “And I tend to limit making friends to a night to night basis at the bar.”

Oh.

I was pretty sure “making friends” was code for something else altogether, but I kept it to myself.

I focused on something else instead.

“But not me?” I asked, voice serious, eyes scanning the clear sky.

“No, Hales. Not you.”

The silence enveloped me, but I could still
feel
him there, on the other end of the line. Maybe it was the soft whisper of his breathing, or maybe it was some otherworldly, indescribable connection, but whatever it was, it was like I was tethered to him.

“Tell me something about you that no one else knows,” I instructed him, point blank, no leading into it whatsoever.

“Jesus, Hales. Don’t start off with anything easy. Christ,” he griped.

“Oh, just do it, you big baby,” I teased haughtily.

“Well, I’ve been called a lot of things, but I’m pretty sure no one has called me a big baby before.”

He would know. He would remember if they had.

“They obviously weren’t familiar with your whining ways,” I explained. Then, because I was wondering, I queried, “Do you say things like that just to normalize yourself?”

“Things like what?” he asked.

“Things like the words “pretty sure” when you’re referring to a memory. I’m
pretty sure
there’s no “pretty” about it. You and that elephant brain are
sure
.”

“Yeah, I guess I do,” he responded.

Satisfied that I had gotten enough out of him to confirm one of my observations, I got back to the issue at hand. “Good. Now, tell me your deepest, darkest secrets.”

“Fine,” he grumbled, obviously still annoyed at my demands and stalling for time with all that he had.

I decided he was taking too long and beat him to the punch. “Jesus, Danny. You really are being a baby. I’ll go first.” Mustering all of the confidence I could find, digging down deep and even fishing around in a few imaginary pockets, I told him, “I generally don’t care what anyone thinks of me. But....I’m afraid that one day, my family is going to wake up and be disappointed in me. My choices...maturity level...my somewhat mediocre lifestyle.”

“Hales—” he started.

But I cut him off. “No. Danny, I didn’t say that for pity or even because I think I’m going to have some sort of revelation and change my ways. Trust me, I’m stuck this way. Overbearing, over-exaggerated, and in your face. I just said it because no one knows it.” I took a breath, closed my eyes, and said, “But now, you do.”

Danny heaved a deep breath, and then dove right in, taking the pressure off of me immediately.

“I feel like I’ve been waiting for someone like you...foul mouthed, brutally honest, and downright genuine...frustrating. God, you can be frustrating, but...well, I feel like I’ve been waiting for your friendship for most of my life.”

Five minutes into our conversation and I felt like I knew Danny better than I knew 95 percent of my friends. Quite frankly, I was surprised by how forthright he was. I had used my usual approach, skewering him with a really honest, personal secret, but I had expected a typical man’s answer in response. Something along the lines of
I jerk off in the shower every day
. Or something just as fake and meaningless.

But no, he had given me a genuine answer. And that got me thinking.

There was a beauty in getting to know someone over the phone. It was safer when you didn’t have to look someone in the eye; it allowed for more honesty. Plus, it was so easy to get lost in someone in the beginning. The look and feel of them overwhelming your senses and skewing your thoughts away from issues of substance. Over the phone, the only physical gratifications were that of memory and sound, the focus easily finding its rightful place among thoughts, philosophies, and values rather than looks, touches, and sensory pleasures.

Maybe it would be nice to be away from him physically. The reward of getting to know him on a much more personal level might just be worth it.

And I
had
met him in person, laid my eyes on him several times in fact, so I wouldn’t end up on that show
Catfish
, only to find that my new best friend was actually a five foot one inch Mexican-American woman looking to fill the voids of her life by tricking me into a fake relationship.

Good news.

“You’re unusually quiet,” Danny cut into my thoughts.

“Just thinking, Dan-o. I try to do it at least once a week,” I teased.

“You try to think once a week?” he asked for confirmation.

“Yeah, any more often than that, it gets in the way of fun.”

I could hear the smile in his voice as he murmured, “Fair enough.” After a brief pause he added, “That also explains some of your behavior.”

I laid on my towel, phone to my ear, eyes to the sky, and feet flexed and wiggling back and forth for close to an hour. Danny and I talked about mostly nothing. I told him our travel plans and he teased me with some things to look out for when suitors approached me.

It was the most fun I had had just talking to someone in a long time. And I laughed a whole heck of a lot.

When I finally hung up, after a promise from him that he would call me, and got back up to the room, Allison was passed out cold. I quietly packed my bag and made sure everything was as it should be for tomorrow, and then laid my head down on my pillow, tucked my hands in prayer position under it, and fell asleep with a smile on my face and peace in my mind.

WHEN WE LEFT the next morning, someone made the God-awful decision to wait and stop at a McDonald’s on the road for our first Coke of the day rather than preparing one at the hotel. I didn’t want to name names, mostly because I tried to avoid pointing the finger at myself, but yeah, I really screwed the pooch.

“Where in the hell is this Mickey D’s?” Allison pleaded. “I’m losing my ever loving mind.” Her eyes were wild in a way that I rarely saw.

She was a little hysterical, but I really couldn’t blame her. We had been driving for many, many miles and far too many minutes without our sustaining life force. For many people, this was something named “Coffee”, but not us.

And we couldn’t stop at some other place for Coke. McDonald’s had a good one. We had extremely high tuned Coke palates from years of taste testing and you didn’t just abandon that knowledge. Even in a time of need.

“I know, I’m trying—” I told her as I finally saw an approaching exit sign with the golden arches logo on it. “Shit! I’ve got one!” I screamed and swerved dangerously from the far left lane all the way over to the exit and off.

Allison grabbed on to the charcoal gray door handle at her side, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip, but said not one word. Talking me out of crazy driving was just not her top priority right now, and I was impressed by her focus.

Making my way off of the exit, I mashed the gas pedal the 0.4 Miles down the road to the right that the sign indicated, swung a hard right into the parking lot, and came to a screeching stop right in front of the drive through order screen.

“Welcome to McDonald’s. How can I help you?” the friendly, alien, boy-like radio voice asked.

“Yes, I need two large Cokes, extra ice. This is a matter of utmost importance. Life or death!” I preached to the young man.

“Um.....okay,” he answered with reasonable uncertainty. And if I had to guess, he probably had a hand that was inching its way toward the phone to call the authorities.

“Oh, and two hash browns, please,” I added on an afterthought. Might as well.

The thought of food obviously stirred something in Allison, as she snapped to attention, the Scooby Doo “roouh” sound playing in my head while I visualized imaginary dog ears perking up on top of her head.

“Ooo! Get me one of those Sausage McMuffins with egg too!”

Right.

“Okay, I’m also going to need a Sausage McMuffin with egg,” I told the poor soul on the other end.

“Okay....” he said tentatively. “Will that be all?”

Shit. Was that it? I looked to Allison in question, she nodded her affirmation, and then, as I turned back to the screen, I jumped right back on the crazy train.

“You know what, no. Give me one of those Bacon, Egg, and Cheese biscuits too.”

Silence.

I was pretty sure he was scared to even ask, so I didn’t make him.

“It’s okay. I’m finished.”

Silence.

“Really, I’m done this time. I promise.”
I’m also sorry if I scared you
, I thought.

“Nine Seventy-One. First window, please.”

Ah, so we had reduced him to using as few words as possible. I wasn’t surprised.

I coasted around to the window and came face to face with Pimple-face Bobby. Don’t worry, it was the normal amount of adolescent boy acne, not an amount that might put you off of eating food prepared by said person. And I had no idea if his real name was Bobby, but it seemed close enough for my liking as the situation didn’t really warrant being on a first name basis.

Actually, it was probably better if he didn’t know our names either. As I pulled up to the window, I tucked my credit card back in its spot and took out cash instead. Better to conceal my identity so he wouldn’t know what name to use with the cops.

I tried to hold my face in an expression that made me look as normal as possible, handed him my money slowly and gently, took my change, and then pulled forward to the next window, never to see Bobby again.