Page 19 of Angels & Whiskey
We leftMalibu at 0600 sharp. The six and a half hour drive to Vegas was torture. It should have only taken five hours, but driving a U-Haul truck had set us back an hour and a half.
I drove the giant truck while towing my Yukon—five miles an hour under the speed limit. Jackson was lucky. He drove his Jeepand listened to satellite radio while I had to scan the stations looking for anything enjoyable. The moment I’d find something I liked, I’d drive out of range, leaving me bored to death on the open stretch of road that was nothing but dirt.
Once we hit the city limits, I followed Jackson as he drove through the streets of Las Vegas to our new house. Saddles & Racks had paid our moving expenses and our first month’s rent on a two-story, tan colored, stucco house that we’d be sharing. We didn’t mind sharing a house; we’d been in worse situations when we were in Afghanistan and it would be nice to live with Jackson in a new city.
I parked the truck on the curb while Jackson parked his Jeep in the driveway. I needed a beer. “P.J., get back in the Jeep and let’s go buy a twenty-four pack.”
“You don’t want to see the inside?” he called back.
“I just drove almost six hours straight. I need a beer.”
“Well, I need to piss,” he countered, walking toward the front door.
“Fine, I’ll go. Throw me the keys.”
He did. “Get lunch too.”
I stared at him. Was I his fucking bitch? “Is this how it’s going to be living with you?” I joked.
“Fuck you. I gotta go piss or I’ll give our neighbors a show when I pull my dick out here on the front lawn,” he said, walking backward to the front door. “Just get me a burger or something.” He turned and ran for the door.
I laughed at him as I climbed into his Jeep. I didn’t know where I was going, but I figured a grocery store must be nearby or at least a liquor store. Shit, it was Vegas. I could stick a dollar in a slot at any casino and wait for a cocktail waitress to bring me a beer if I needed to.
I drove a few blocks, then pulled into a parking lot of a Starbucks after realizing how tired I was from the drive. Alcohol would just make me exhausted, and we still had to unload the truck. Stepping out of the Jeep, my phone dinged with an incoming text.
Jackson:Bobby gave me the number for a few of the guys at S&R and they’re coming over to help us move our shit. Get a few cases and more food.
I groaned. I wanted to meet the guys, but I was fucking exhausted. I didn’t want to be social. I just wanted to move my bed and pass out.
My head was down as I reached out and opened the glass door for Starbucks …
And smack into a body smaller than my own.
“Oh my God. I’m so …”
“It’s okay. My mistake.” I smiled, taking in the blush on her face that led to the biggest, most beautiful hazel eyes I’d ever seen. I held her up by her elbows so she wouldn’t fall. “Are you okay?”
“I’m … fine. Thank you.” She stepped to the side, the wind blowing in the right direction as I took a deep breath, smelling a scent I’d never forget.
“Who the fuck is that?” the woman she was with asked.
“I have no idea,” she admitted, turning around and walking away.
I went inside, trying to shake the scent, but at the same time remembering Alyssa’s smile. There wasn’t a day that passed that I didn’t think of her. As I stood in line, the smell of coffee in the air, I realized I wasn’t sad about smelling the vanilla scent but more intrigued by the stranger wearing it.
After leaving Starbucks, I found a grocery store nearby and bought enough beer for ten guys. Even though I knew there weren’t going to be that many hands on deck, I figured there was no harm in having beer be the first thing to christen our fridge. I also bought a bottle of Jack Daniels for me and some toilet paper—the necessities. I knew without a doubt that smelling the familiar scent would cause me to have a nightmare and I needed the whiskey to prevent that from happening. I had them most nights, but I couldn’t relive Alyssa dying again.
I stopped at a fast food drive-through for five burgers and fries before arriving back home. A silverFordpickup truck sat on the curb, and the U-Haul was backed into the driveway with the garage door open. I still needed to pound a beer or two before I was able to move anything. Moving fucking sucked.
“It’s about damn time!” Jackson bellowed, coming out of the garage.
“I don’t know my way around.”
“I’m just fuckin’ with ya. The guys just got here.” Three men walked out of the garage behind Jackson. “Cap—I mean, Gabe. This is Brad, Nick, and Vinny.”
“What up?” Nick gave me a nod and stuck his hand out. Black ink lined his arms and up part of his neck.
I took his hand. “Hey.”
