Dirty Playboy

by Wolf, Alex

  “If I was pragmatic, I would not have stayed the night with you last night.”

  “You make a valid point.” I laugh.

  We pass Millennium Park and keep walking.

  Mary stops and turns to me. “I’m not demanding information like that right now. I’m enjoying myself.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief, and at the same time it’s not what I want. I want to be all in with her, not some fun little fling. I want to be hers as much as she’s mine.

  Her face tightens a little, and she stiffens. She’s not nervous. It’s a serious look, as if she’s going to make a demand. “I know there are things you’re holding back, and I’m sure you have good reasons. But I still want to discuss it and make sure you’ve dealt with it in a healthy manner.” There’s no hint of doubt in her voice.

  She’s pushing so hard, letting me know it’s all or nothing with her. I can’t have one foot in and one foot out. The thought sends a damn chill up my spine, for reasons previously mentioned, but I do what any man does. Reserve that problem for future Rick. Current Rick just wants to be happy and live in the present.

  I have no problem committing to Mary. I’d do it right now if I knew for a fact she’d accept me for who I am. Right now, she could still cut ties. She’s not as invested as I am, yet. She doesn’t know that telling her everything, would mean I would lose her.

  “I know.” A pang racks my stomach the second I say it.

  We walk for a while, making idle chit chat, but something feels off. She knows more than she’s letting on. The Wells Covington shit looms in the back of my mind. If he knows secrets about me, he definitely didn’t tell her. She wouldn’t have spent the night with me. I just know she wouldn’t have. She would’ve been nice about it, of course, because she’s a kind person. There would’ve been offers of help, and then she’d fade out of my life slowly, little by little.

  We finally end up in front of the door to Mary’s apartment.

  I take both of her hands in mine. “I’m going to say something that sounds really cliché, and you have to promise not to make fun of me.”

  She shakes her head, grinning. “I don’t know if I can do that without knowing what it is first.”

  I laugh. “Fair enough.” I look her in the eye.

  “I do like cheesy and cliché sometimes, though. So hit me with it, Lawrence.”

  “Last night was the best night of my life.” I feel like a pussy the second I say it, but it’s the truth. It really is, and I don’t care how I look when I say it. I want her to know everything I feel about her, every thought, every hope.

  Her eyes flutter up to mine, and she nods. “Same. And it wasn’t lame. It was sweet.”

  Before she can say anything else, I pull her to me by her hips and kiss her, right on the lips. I need to give her a reminder, show her how much I love her every time I’m near her, in the way I act, in the way I kiss, so the second I’m gone she remembers it until I’m with her again.

  Once our lips part, that permanent smile is affixed to her face and my work here is done. My heart is full.

  She walks through her door and all I can think is…Mary Patrick is mine. She’s fucking mine.

  The only one who can screw it up now, is me.

  Mary Patrick

  I don’t know if I’ve ever danced around and sang while I cleaned my apartment, but it’s happening right now. My heart is a hundred percent all in with Rick, and my brain is a catastrophe of epic proportions. I have to constantly remind myself we’ve only been on two dates and slept together once. It’s so much more than that, though. At the same time, I have to remind my brain it’s not enough time for him to fully open up to me. I feel bad pushing him on it, but at the same time, we’ve already been through so much. It’s like we’ve been a couple forever. How did he do that to me?

  I know there are things there, though. Every time I bring up his past he deflects, and he’s a master of deflection. I know he’s crazy about me. That part isn’t really up for discussion. The man obsessed over me for seven months, without so much as a sigh of irritation as I turned him down over and over.

  I take a few steps around the kitchen and I can still feel him inside me. The thought sends an amazing shiver through me.

  The constant ache between my legs reminds me of everything we did last night. I think the scariest part is I thought my conscience would kick in today. I thought I’d regret every second of it, and feel like an awful person, or a sinner, something—but I don’t. I don’t feel bad about it at all, and not feeling bad, is making me feel bad.

  As I said, crazy brain. What has he turned me into? Maybe I need to slow things down, but I don’t want to. The man heard about my favorite movie in the morning, and reenacted the whole thing within hours, including a limo driver and a private shopping spree. I don’t know how much the dress cost, but it had to be more than my rent. Who even does that?

  Every time I think about it, I swoon so hard. Then, I think about the things Wells Covington said, the stuff at work, how I’m being thrown in the middle, lying to Decker, Rick avoiding questions about his past. Rick was honest with me about his faith, but there’s something about his childhood he’s hiding because he doesn’t want to lie to me. That’s what I’m guessing. It all makes me sick to my stomach.

  The feelings are so strong between us, and what if something severs that? If it happened today, it’d be messy. What happens if we go down this road, and develop things further, and something catastrophic happens? It might destroy both of us.

  Right when I’ve gone from feeling on top of the world to the worst person in the world, I remember I still have to go back to church to do some volunteer work tonight. I glance at my phone and think about telling Jeremiah I need the night off, but there’s no way I can do that. It’s not me. I’m not going to let my personal life affect others who count on me.

  Nope. I’ll go.

  * * *

  As usual, things always seem worse in my mind than they end up being. I actually feel better once I walk into church. I think that’s one of the things that has always drawn me to my faith. I know it’s not supposed to be all about me, but I just feel right when I’m here. Strangely, that unquantifiable feeling I get when I’m here, I also get with Rick.

  I do some filing and clerical work, organizing things for Jeremiah, and before I know it an hour has passed. I finish up fifteen minutes early and walk into the sanctuary. There’s a giant wooden cross on the wall to the side of the stage, and I walk up to the altar.

  Prayer has always been my best remedy when I’m confused. It feels so wrong, bringing all this to God, after what I did last night. It shouldn’t keep me from Him. I know He loves me, no matter what I do. I know He’ll forgive me if I ask Him sincerely, but I just don’t think I need forgiveness. I kneel in front of the altar and contemplate things for a while.

  In the past, I would be racked with guilt right now. I was when I had sex in college. Why don’t I feel that now? People always look at me like I’m someone who makes all the right decisions, has all the right answers when it comes to faith, but I’m a mess, all the time. Always confused. Always asking questions.

  Why do I not feel guilty about sleeping with Rick?

  In my entire life, I’ve never heard God’s voice. It sounds like an odd statement. People always claim to hear God, and I don’t know if they’re lying or not, but that’s not for me to decide. I never hear Him, but I feel Him. I don’t know any other way to explain it.

  When I pray for wisdom, or why certain things are the way they are, I feel the truth. And when I look up at the cross on the wall and ask the question over and over in my mind, “Why don’t I feel guilty about sleeping with Rick?” the truth slams into my chest.

  The rational part of my brain wants to laugh and totally ignore the answer I just got. But deep down, beyond the cellular level, somewhere past biology where you can just feel if something is true or not, I’ve known all along. X-factor, gut instinct, however you want to define it
, it’s been there since our first real date. Ever since Rick stopped pretending to be something he wasn’t and showed me his actual feelings.

  I shake my head. It seems so simple and so absurd.

  Why don’t I feel guilty about sleeping with Rick?

  It’s because I lo—

  “Mary, you in here?”

  I shriek and fall flat on my butt. My heart races a million-miles-an-hour.

  Pastor Jeremiah laughs as he walks up the aisle. “Sorry, I figured you heard me come in.”

  I make my way to my feet and brush imaginary dirt off my skirt. “No, was just...” I glance around. “Praying.”

  “Oh, sorry for interrupting…” He turns like he’s going to leave me alone.

  “No.” I walk over. “It’s okay.”

  He looks up at me. He can’t be much taller than five-two or five-three, so I have a couple inches on him.

  His eyebrows rise, and that curious stare of his comes out. “You want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.” I nod my head as I say it.

  He gives me a scowl, the one a parent gives their child. “Take a seat.”

  I do as he says and sit down on one of the pews. He slides in next to me but stares straight ahead.

  How am I going to explain any of this to him? We’re not Catholic and it’s not like an anonymous confession. Shouldn’t I be able to talk to him about this kind of thing, though? Isn’t that a pastor’s job? I don’t really ever bring my problems to him, or to God, really. I always figure they have more important things to be doing than worrying about little things in my life.

  “It’s Rick.” He doesn’t look at me as he says it.

  Finally, I let out a sigh. “How’d you know?”

  “I’m old. I’m not blind.”

  I laugh at that. “Fair enough.”

  “You two seemed so happy this morning when I saw you. Did something happen?” His stare hardens. “Did he hurt you?”

  I shake my head vigorously. “No, no, nothing like that. He’s actually been kind of, perfect. I mean, we haven’t been serious that long.”

  “That’s definitely you talking. That boy’s been serious about you since I met him.”

  “Really? I thought it was some kind of con at first. I didn’t know what to think. We were so different. I don’t know what I did to make him so… I don’t even know the word for what it was. I don’t know if a word exists.”

  “Horny?”

  I almost choke and start coughing.

  Pastor Jeremiah laughs and pats me on the back.

  We’ve known each other for over a year now, and I’ve never seen him so relaxed and at ease. I mean, it’s not like we talk about sex, and for as old as he is, he’s super progressive compared to the pastors back in Texas. Still, it takes me by surprise.

  “It sounds like things are going great, though. What are you worried about?”

  “I’m not worried. But I feel like I should be. Should feel bad or something.”

  “Ahh.” His head tilts toward the ceiling, and he nods his head.

  “What’s the ‘ahh’ mean?”

  “It means I know what happened.”

  My face turns pink. “I don’t think…”

  He laughs again. “Christians are such prudes. How do you think we all got here?”

  Okay, now I’m in the Twilight Zone. It’s not how I saw this conversation going.

  “I, umm…” I don’t even have the words.

  He finally turns to face me and this time he’s not joking. “God loves you no matter what. Stop listening to Christian culture, or however you were raised, or whoever you grew up around, and listen to Jesus. Who did he love? Sinners, prostitutes, the least of these. He damn sure didn’t like people twisting his Father’s words to make up rules for everyone, just to have power over their actions.” He holds up a hand. “I’m not saying go out and commit crimes and go nuts, just use your head and your heart. Christians focus so much on the rules, instead of the message. He loves you. You love Him. You believe in Him. You’re gonna be fine. I love beer and hot dogs and the White Sox. All are supposedly sins around these parts. Listen when you read your Bible, listen when you pray. He’ll tell you if you’re messing up. Don’t let anyone else try to take His job.”

  I nod. “I know, you’re right.”

  “If you’re worried about Rick’s belief system, all I can tell you is that people can’t be forced into believing. It’s a long and difficult road for someone to convert and stick with it. It’s why you don’t see me trying to force people into decisions here. I grew up watching it happen and promised myself I’d never do that. You make someone feel so guilty or scared they claim they believe in Jesus, and you see them for a few months, and then they disappear. But I do know Rick reads the Bible. He pays attention to sermons. I’ve talked to him many times. He can almost recite everything I’ve said from memory. And he asks questions like he’s really trying to understand the meaning.”

  “He does?”

  Pastor Jeremiah nods. “Yes. And in my experience, when someone is asking the kinds of questions he’s asking, reading their Bible, engaging with the information—they rarely walk away, if they’re not pressured into moving too fast.”

  Living in Chicago has been such a surreal experience for me. It was one of the reasons why I wanted to move here, to gain new perspectives. That conversation would be so taboo at the church I grew up in back in Texas, probably even at my parents’ dining room table. If I’m being honest with myself, though, I feel more at home here. This is where I belong.

  Don’t get me wrong, I love Texas. I had a great childhood. But my pastor there knew me for twenty years, and he would’ve never figured out what was going on with me. I would’ve never had the guts to tell him what was on my mind, especially something like this. Even now, it would’ve been nothing but judgment after I confided in him.

  I stare right at Pastor Jeremiah. “Thanks. I mean that.”

  The old man winks at me. “No problem. You’re a good kid. Everything will be fine.”

  As I walk out of the church that night, I check one item off my anxiety check list. The only thing left now, is the Wells Covington situation. I don’t know how I’m going to deal with it. I don’t even know what it is. All I know is Rick is somehow caught in the middle. I just wish he would talk to me.

  I don’t want to push him. I may have even pushed too hard already. Now that I’ve talked to Pastor Jeremiah and listened to his advice, I wish I could take it back and just let Rick explain things on his own terms, when he’s comfortable with it.

  The only thing that worries me, is that if he doesn’t do it soon, and Wells and Decker get into some kind of altercation, things might get messy before he has a chance to.

  Rick Lawrence

  I was in New York City all week and it drove me fucking insane. I’ve had to FaceTime with Mary to spend time with her and it’s unacceptable. I need to touch her, hear her voice in person, kiss her.

  I’m finally about to get my chance as I pull up in front of her apartment.

  I know why Decker sent me out of town, but I don’t have to like it. Maybe it’s because I’m exhausted. Last night, I staked out a couple low-level employees at Pacific Imports, the company Wells Covington is invested in. Found them at a bar and bought them drinks until they were hammered, pretended to be wasted, then got some interesting information out of them. I had to stay up all night and document every single thing with primary sources because Decker is anal as fuck, even if he trusts me. It took forever.

  The only reason he still trusts me is because Mary lied for me. I’m not sure how to process that as I walk up the stairs to her apartment. On one hand, it shows me how much she wants to protect me. On the other, it means the things I’ve done have put her at risk. She shouldn’t be involved. It’s just another example of everything I’ve been through coming back to bite me in the ass.

  My legs grow heavier with each step toward her door. I’m taking Mary to Abiga
il and Dexter’s engagement party. It shouldn’t feel different, but it does. Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen her in several days. Maybe it’s because this is the first work event we’re attending where we’re together as a couple. I have no fucking clue what’s going to happen, but the fact I’m about to see Mary overshadows all of it. It’s the only thing that gives me hope, lightens my heart a little.

  The second she opens the door I basically plow into her and almost knock her down. We laugh and kiss and hug and all the things you do when you’ve missed someone like crazy then see their face again.

  I want to skip the damn party and take her straight to her bedroom. In fact, I make an attempt to do just that.

  Mary shoves me away from her. “Later. We have to go.”

  I shrug. “Do we though?”

  She smacks me in the chest. “Yes. It’s non-negotiable.”

  I follow behind her into the hallway. “Fine.”

  We share several glances on the way through her building, and fuck, I’ve missed the way she looks at me. It can’t be captured on a screen from a thousand miles away. Every time I see it, I know she’s missed me just as bad as I’ve missed her.

  The conversation on the walk to the car and the drive to the party is pretty standard. Catching up on things, what happened at work. It’s exactly what I don’t want to talk about.

  I have to be vague, do anything to deflect, despite the fact it won’t work. She’s asking questions about what I was doing, and I won’t lie. The second I say the name Wells Covington, I know it’s a mistake, but one I have to make. There’s no way around it.

  Fortunately, I stall long enough for us to pull up to the Yacht Club before she can ask for more information. What is it with these fucking brothers and this glorified boat house? Are they sailors or some shit? I’ve never seen any of them on a boat and yet they all want to get married here.

  I hop out and open Mary’s door for her. We run into Penn Hargrove on the way in. He has some fake plastic blonde on his arm, which is understandable. He’s best friends with Donavan and came from Bennett Cooper’s firm in Manhattan. He works with non-profit shit at the firm now.