Alternative Alpha

Chapter Twenty-One

With my understanding of Spanish being rusty, on account of having employed memorization skills merely for passing the course, I think something to the effect of unfinished work is the main topic of discussion.

"Someone's not too happy," says Marree as she looks up from her phone and stares into the darkness beyond the doorway.

Glancing at the time on my phone, I am shocked to discover that a couple of hours have passed. It is half an hour till midnight.

"Think he'll be angrier if he finds us in here?" I ask as I look over at her.

"That depends," says a heavily accented voice from outside the doorway. "On who we have here."

A figure materializes from the darkness. The minimal light here reveals enough for identification while still casting him in an attractive shadow. His accent already informed me, but his facial structure supports a European Spanish ancestry. A young face, within the same age bracket as me, is quite at odds with something in his compellingly dark gaze that makes him seem much older.

His eyes do not waver from me, but it does not make me feel uncomfortable. Rather, something else does. Something related to how he smells, but I am unable to adequately identify it. Having never smelled it before, I am having difficulty making a comparison to something familiar. It is a pleasant smell, and the sensation of being uneasy is connected to how I want to throw myself on top of him.

What is further confusing is that this weird attraction is not sexual in nature.

When his gaze moves over to Marree, he only stares at her a moment before turning in the doorway.

Upon his exit, he says, "Let them have something to drink, then have the stage ready in ten minutes."

"Yes, sir," says the immature guy as he enters the hut and gives us a dirty look. "What'll it be?"

Looking at her, my expression shows that I am leaving the decision to her. She knows alcohol better than me, and I trust her to choose something delicious instead of me being responsible for us struggling to swallow some sort of nasty swill.

"Brown Elysium," she says without hesitation.

The in lieu bartender pauses and gives her a look of respect, which she does not see because her attention is back on the phone. Then he handles the liquor bottles and glasses with the kind of intimacy an actual bartender possesses. If he is a real bartender, he is an unfriendly one. But there is no longer a labor rule stating that these people in the service business have to be friendly.

It was such an unnecessary workplace rule anyway. Unfriendly, after all, is not the equivalent of unprofessional.

He carries the brown colored drinks over to us in glasses that seem to be made of crystal. Weird to be using such fancy glassware out here in the forest, and I cannot imagine the lodge supplies it. Taking both drinks from him, I sniff at the contents of the glass in my right hand. It certainly smells heavenly.

"How strong is this going to be?"

"Most people can't handle more than one," she says as she takes the glass from my left hand. "Takes a good half hour to kick in, and then it's like being on cloud nine."

I raise my eyebrows and ask, "And is that your way of saying it's laced with drugs?"

After a sip, she says, "Not exactly legal, but it's safe enough in moderation. So heed my word, no more than one of these."

Figuring I need this, especially tonight, I tip the rim of the glass to my lips. Even though I have never taken anything stronger than headache relief, it will be one of those unforgettable experiences one looks back upon in old age.

Against my tongue, the liquid is cold and smooth. The sweet taste does a good job of disguising the flavor of liquor, of which the bartender included two different kinds from what I saw.

After swallowing, I lick my lips. "The chocolate is a nice touch."

"Isn't it just?"

"And you've had this before?"

"Nope, but Dovelina has."

Of course, the reality television star. A rather opinionated single mother who loves to party while the sexy male nanny looks after her kids. None of her kids have the same father, and at least the nanny is too gay to fall into her reproductive trap. I only watch it to see him and his big muscles, but I have not seen it recently.

"Let me guess, this new drink might be responsible for kid number six?"

She laughs. "Probably. My bet is on the Arabian jock. He looked like he had really strong sperm."

The sound of heavy footsteps draws my attention to the door, and I know him from the scent that precedes him. The nice guy pops his head in and waves for us to join him outside.

"Looks like the party's about to start," I say as I get to my feet and take another mouthful of the drink.

Holding out a hand, she takes it so that I can help her off the couch. I am reminded of the incident at home that led to me kissing the detective. The memory is one I imagine will never lose itself at the back of my mind.

"I kissed someone today."

She sticks out her arm, hitting my stomach, which prevents me from moving forward. "Excuse me, and you didn't think to tell me right away?"

I bring the glass to my lips again, and she asks, "Was it Ien?"

Swallowing, the glass half finished, I shake my head. "It is someone I only met today."

"Okay," she says as she grabs my hand and drags me back to the couch. "We're not going out there until you tell me everything."

Which I do, explaining it all to her in detail. Her most notable response is in relation to the detective's age, but I can discern that she is non-judgmental about it.