Page 2 of 7 Miles High
Only Matt and James’ heads turn in the direction of my gaze. Elliott isn’t familiar with our decades-old game.
“You asshole,” Matt says, not breaking his stare. “Give a man a chance. You and James already have the advantage.”
We’ve been hearing that for fifteen years. Ever since high school. He’s always busting our balls about how women love the Dunn boys. Still calls us that. It pisses him off we’ve never had to work very hard for female attention.
Looking through the glass panes of Hennessey’s we see three great-looking women coming closer. By the smiles and animated conversation it looks like a party. The blonde’s in white skinny jeans. Nice. Like the cool Vans. She’s eating from a bag of gummy bears.
There’s two others, but it’s her I’m interested in. The innocent doe-eyed look has always attracted me. But only when coupled with a mouth that tells a different story. Hers does.
I don’t see anything referencing a bridal party. No stupid veil or penis lollipops. No Bride or Maid of Honor T-shirts.
Could just be girls on a fun vacation away from their boyfriends. In that case,Partying in Mexico Rules and Regulationswill apply. Get in. Get out. The most important rule, there are no rules.
We’re waiting to see if they’ll pass by, turn in, or take a seat at Gate 23 across from the bar.
“She’s hot,” I say mostly to myself.
“They all are,” James says, now fully present. “Redhead, dibs.”
His delivery has no immediacy and little conviction, but I’m encouraged. If any woman can shock him into participating, this one has the best chance. She’s my brother’s archetype. Redhead. Natural good looks. Curvy.
Matt joins the game. “Dibs, brunette!”
He always aims for the girl just beyond his reach. The most classically beautiful or the one with the best body. Just to prove he can. It works about ten percent of the time. He always has to do the most work to convince a woman. A six-foot-five ginger bodybuilder isn’t the easiest sell.
Once he makes them laugh they start to see beyond the façade. Most of the time he just shocks them into liking him with unfiltered comments. When he goes in for the kill, his storied cunnilingus skills win them over. Matt’s proud to be known for his expert muff diving.
By now Elliott’s figured out what we’re doing and he’s mildly disgusted. There’s some smirking involved, as if he’s listening to idiots. I’m sure he thinks we didn’t get the memo that it’s the twenty-first century. Just men who don’t understand the female sex at all. That idea has some merit.
“Are you kidding me? You’re calling dibs on women? Unbelievable,” he says, shaking his head.
“The reverend objects to our chauvinistic ways,” Matt says, feigning a serious tone.
“We’re short a woman. Now he’s gonna need to wait till we get there.”
Elliott shakes his head vigorously and holds a palm up.
“Thanks, but I’m here for relaxation. And the drinks. Maybe some pool time. Worry about yourselves.”
Three sets of eyes stare at him like he’s a Martian. We all start cracking up.
“We’re gonna have to get you up to speed, bro. We’re here for the women and what follows. You know what? I’m gonna make you my project.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Look.” James points.
All eyes turn back to the objects of our affections.
Oh yeah, they’re heading for the seats at the gate. Our gate. Cancun bound. Sometimes fate cuts you a break.
Matt takes off. “Let’s go. Before any other assholes hit on them.”
He’s not the best one to make the first impression. I pick up my duffel and follow.
“What about our drinks?” Elliott says.
“Leave it,” James says. “Come on.”
