Page 4 of Promise Not To Fall

1 part Cruzan® Guava Rum

1 part Cruzan® Mango Rum

½ part falernum

½ part blue Curaçao

½ part cranberry juice

¼ part fresh lemon juice

3 lemon wheels

½ part ginger beer

Mix first six ingredients in a mixing glass with ice

Place one lemon wheel in bottom of a Collins glass. Fill remainder with ice and top with two remaining lemon wheels. Shake and strain into Collins glass. Top with ginger beer to add sparkle.

Sometimes I think I’m having a midlife crisis at twenty-seven. And before you go saying that’s not possible, it totally is. When I’m surrounded by others, it kind of confirms my theory. Like now.

“Will you just relax?” Rylee asks. “You’re acting like a weirdo, and they’re gonna kick us off the plane again.”

“First of all, that was one time. And second, I can’t. You’re touching me, and your arm hair is tickling mine, and what if the plane crashes?” My eyes fall to her elbow, which is on my side of the armrest. Completely unacceptable. She needs to move it.

“You’re too young to be forecasting risk, and I swear to God, Kendall, if you act all crazy and controlling on this trip when we’re supposed to have fun, I’ll break up with you.”

Fluffing my blanket against the window, I nestle in. “Way to kick me when I’m down.”

Rylee doesn’t care about my mental breakdown. All she cares about is that she is getting married in three months, and this trip is their way of celebrating that. I thought that’s what the honeymoon was for, but apparently when your dad has more money than Bill Gates, you can afford to celebrate before and after the ceremony. Rich people. They’re so weird.

I suppose, if I were her, I’d be the same way. But I’m not her. Instead, my life is in ruins, and here I am, negative as fuck and on a plane with someone touching my arm hair.

Staring out the window, I see the team plane for the Arizona Diamondbacks arriving.

Did I mention Justin, you know, the ex, was a professional baseball player?

If I didn’t, maybe it’s because I’m trying to forget that part.

When you think about it, with my personality, you would probably think dating clients would be a no-no. And it is for the most part.

But if you’ve ever seen a professional baseball player walking through his home naked while you make his flight arrangements, well, you’d probably have a lapse in judgment too.

After a while, I realized a few things. Most of the men I work for are assholes, and I’d sleep with them one night and then find them in bed with another girl the next, or buying flowers for them to have delivered to their latest fling.

Things between Justin and me started out great. Then we moved in together, and slowly a little more pressure was put on the relationship. He didn’t want to get married. Ever. And he knew that was what I wanted. Maybe that’s what drove him away, because I did mention it quite often with that thirtieth birthday looming on the horizon.

Justin isn’t the first client I’ve dated, either. And I’ve dated men who weren’t clients as well. I’ve had boyfriends. Six, to be exact.

My first boyfriend was Josiah, when I was a junior in high school. I thought for sure Josiah was the one. And he might have been, but Josiah joined the military, and my friends would argue the point that it was to get away from me. I won’t go that far. I would say maybe there’s a chance of that, but it’s not likely.

Even though it didn’t work out, I did meet Rylee through Josiah. She’s his sister. Awkward at first when we broke up, but Rylee and I are inseparable, despite her being four years younger than I am.

After Josiah was Jaden. Apparently, I’m attracted to men with the letter “J” in their name.

I broke up with him after two dates. There was absolutely no reason for it, other than the fact that he drove a white van and I thought for sure he was eventually going to kidnap me and sell my body parts. There were other reasons too. He wore his shirt when we had sex, and finally I had to ask, what’s with the shirt?

When I found out, I wished I would have kept my fucking mouth shut, because there are just some things in this world your eyes can’t unsee. Like a man with a monkey tattoo on his stomach with its asshole as his belly button. Yeah, enough said.

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