Chapter and Verse

by Jo Willow

  The room also contains a couple of bookcases that contain books, a few souvenirs from my travels, and a compact stereo with a CD player an an iPod dock. Candles dot surfaces here and there as well as leather coasters and the errant pen or pencil. The floors throughout my place are hardwood - trendy sure, but also functional. Carpeting would have to be replaced regularly to maintain the New York High Rise illusion and I’m not into that. If the wood hadn’t been there, I’d have had it installed. Area rugs scattered throughout keep the place warm and the noise level down. The place is painted in creams, taupes, and various themes on both. It’s functional and warm and I liked it so I didn’t change it.

  Got a mental picture? Good. Now picture this. I’m standing in the hall at the entrance to my living room and this is what I see: Deacon Sloan, one of the top ten richest, most eligible bachelors - correction - confirmed and determined bachelors - wearing sweatpants, an old Creedence Clearwater t-shirt and gym socks. He’s sprawled comfortable on my comfy sofa, one leg on the sofa, one foot on the floor, his head on the arm of the sofa and in his hand is the remote. His eyes are focused on the screen as he flips through the channels at a rate that has me questioning whether or not he’s lingering long enough to really know what he’s seeing, but he seems determined to find something. There’s a cup of rapidly cooling coffee on the coffee table in front of him and I start to wonder if there’s any left in the pot in the kitchen. If not, I’ll make some.

  My grin is in response to the eye-candy and the situation I’m finding myself in. Don’t get me wrong. I understand that we’re primarily in a business relationship, I do. But it’s nice to know that at the end of it, I may have a friend that actually lives in the same building. As much as he has the capability to really piss me off, I genuinely like Deacon. I think deep down he’s a good person. I believed him when he said he didn’t have a lot of experience in the “friends” department and he needs a learning curve. As briefly as I’ve known him, I can easily see that being true and I have to remember to cut him a little slack until he gets the hang of it. Having said that, I’ll admit that I’ve never had a friend quite as attractive as Deacon and as well as he can rock a three-piece and a tux, that man is an all out hunk laid out on a sofa. Am I growling? Down girl, down.

  I waltzed into the living room, making my presence known. Oddly, I’d also chosen sweatpants and a t-shirt for our casual Sunday get-together. He looked up and smiled and once again I had to swallow at the sight of those dimples, but this time he didn’t smirk. That made me feel like we were making progress in the friendship department. I noticed he didn’t change his lounging position and that felt promising as well.

  “Deke is there any more coffee left?”

  “Sorry Dor’. I dumped the pot and washed it out. Want me to make some?”

  “Nope. Stay there, I’ve got it. Anything good on TV?”

  He turned back to his task and continued flipping. When he stopped, I noticed it was on the weather channel. Kindred spirits with a fondness for breaking weather updates.

  “I keep coming back to the Weather Channel. I hope you don’t mind.”

  I was adding coffee to the filter and preparing to press the button.

  “Mind? I love that channel! In the winter I’m practically glued to it. You don’t look like the type though, what gives?”

  “I travel a lot on business and go to a lot of events. The weather helps me determine wardrobe choices. Plus, I’m a sucker for weather events. I even have a small TV in my office that is usually tuned to this channel.”

  I carried a steaming cup of coffee with cream and sugar into the living room and placed it in front of him. Then I picked up his cold cup and carried it back to the kitchen to refill it for myself.

  “I never noticed a TV in your office when I was there.”

  He blushed and it looked good on him.

  “I keep it hidden. I’ll show it to you the next time you’re there.”

  I took the other end of the sofa and settled in, placing my coffee on the end-table. I opened the drawer and pulled out a notepad and a pencil.

  “I’d like that. Now. Are you ready for this?”

  He started to sit up and I waved away his attempt.

  “Stay comfy. This isn’t going to be nearly as bad as you imagine, trust me. Most of what I write will be from responses I get while I’m with you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I thought about how to answer his question diplomatically, but there simply wasn’t a way.

  “Okay. I’m gonna say something that might be taken as a dig, but it’s not. I’m merely putting an example out there. Got it?”

  “Yeah, okay, but I already think I’m not gonna like it.”

  “Oh you probably won’t, but you did ask the question.”

  He braced himself for what was coming and I hoped it wouldn’t be as bad as he expected it to be.

  “For example. Friday night at the fundraiser. You greeted this ungodly amount of people as if you’d known them all your life. That was impressive. My plan was to ask you later on how you remembered their names. I also noticed that every female under the age of fifty was looking at you as if you were their last meal. That was impressive as well, and the same question applied, but I also wanted to know how many of them you’d...erm...dated, for lack of a better word. It’s common knowledge that you’re a devout bachelor Deke. How do you keep all those women from wanting your balls in a jar when you walk away from them?”

  He looked down but he didn’t seem upset. He was contemplating his answer and I knew that he’d give me an honest one, he was formulating his wording. Finally, he looked up and glanced at my notepad.

  “I want to answer that last question and I will, I promise. I need to know something first. Are you going to write it verbatim, or will you make it sound better than how I make it sound?”

  I thought about what he was asking me. I never make promises to the people I write about. I don’t purposely set out to paint them in a bad light, ever. That’s not my style. But I won’t ignore the facts as they’re presented either. Deacon would be a challenge.

  “I’ll do my best, but understand something. You have final approval. If you want something edited, I’ll do that for you. Fair enough?”

  “Fair enough. Okay. To answer the first question, I’ve been blessed with what I call, ‘Name/Face Recognition’. If we’ve been formally introduced, I’ll remember your name the next time we meet, as well as some of the details of that first meeting. It’s a gift. That doesn’t apply to phone meetings unfortunately. If our interactions are only on the phone, I probably won’t remember your voice. That’s what Miranda is for. She always tells me who’s calling. She’s a champ.”

  I made a few notes and then something popped into my head.

  “Tell me about Miranda.”

  He took a sip of his coffee and smiled. I got it exactly right. Yeah me.

  “What do you want to know?”

  “What is she to you exactly?”

  “She’s my P.A., my secretary, and my confidante for the most part. We’ve been together five years and she’s never let me down or let a secret slip. I couldn’t do it without her.”

  “Has there ever been a romantic relationship?”

  He furrowed his brow and I knew I’d hit a sore spot.

  “No. Absolutely not. Why?”

  I doodled on the notepad and didn’t make eye contact.

  “Oh nothing. I got the impression that she’d like there to be a bit more to your relationship description, that’s all.”

  “Did she say something to give you that impression?”

  I rolled my eyes and put the pad down on my lap.

  “Deacon puleeze. She looks at you as if she’d like to undress you with her teeth. The woman’s in lust with you. Are you that blind?”

  He shrugged and that surprised me.

  “A lot of women look at me that way. It’s no big deal. She understands that business is business and I’m not int
erested in her. I allow her certain...liberties that I wouldn’t allow another business associate, but she knows it’ll never go beyond that.”

  Now we were getting somewhere. My curiosity overrode my common sense and I leaned forward in my chair.

  “What kind of liberties?”

  He laughed and shook his head.

  “You are so transparent! Look at you, digging for gossip. This won’t go in the book will it?”

  “Of course not. Don’t be stupid. I’m just getting to know my friend here. What does she do that you allow?”

  “Nothing major. She adjusts my tie sometimes or touches my arm when she’s making a point. Harmless stuff that seems to make her happy. If she tried to kiss me or if she made suggestive comments, I’d shut her down in a heartbeat. But she won’t and I know she won’t. We’re on solid ground.”

  I sat back deflated.

  “Uh-huh. Whatever you say.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Deacon, you’re a manwhore. You’d tap that in a second and you know it. Don’t come off all prim and proper with me, you forget I’ve seen you in action.”

  He sat up and moved closer to me on the sofa. I didn’t move, but I could feel the blinking thing start.

  “Let’s get something straight from the get-go. I am not a manwhore. Do I date? Yes. Do I sleep with my dates? Sometimes, but I am selective. You seem to think there’s a different woman in my bed every night and that is simply not the case. I love sex Dorothy and I’m not ashamed to admit it, but I won’t sleep with just anybody. I sleep alone more often than not.”

  Well shut the door. He put me in my place and he did it with typical Deacon Sloan finesse. Was I shocked? Shocked doesn’t even begin to describe it.

  “I’m not trying to insult you, I’m merely making a point. There’s not much out there about your personal life and I hope to clear some of that up. Let me ask you something since we’re hanging it out there and it’s just you and me.”

  “Go on...”

  “If I were your actual date Friday night, would you have left with someone else?”

  He ran his hands through his hair in frustration and sighed. I felt the need to say something, so I did. I leaned over and put my hand on his shoulder and he looked up, nailing me with his silver stare.

  “I’m not beating a dead horse Deke. I said I forgave you and I did. That’s all water under the bridge, I promise. I’m asking out of curiosity and the need to know what makes you tick. Don’t get upset. Okay?”

  He relaxed and I sat back in my chair.

  “Okay. Friday night was an anomaly. Several things came into play that I’m ashamed of. First, you WERE my date. I never thought of you otherwise. There was a reason I put my arm around you and kept my arm around you.”

  Before I could take that statement further, he continued.

  “Second, Sylvia is well... Sylvia. She tends to be aggressive.”

  “Tell me about it. She swept you right off your feet...”

  “She’s also...talented. And before you ask, no, I will not expound on that. Suffice it to say that I’ve been in a dry spell and she zeroed in on that.”

  Okay, I had to say something in response to that. There was no way I could let that lie.

  “A dry spell? What kind of a dry spell?”

  “I hadn’t had sex in three weeks.”

  “Three weeks? Are you kidding me? Try three years! You wanna talk about dry spells? Give me a break Deacon.”

  He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes.

  “Wait a minute. Back it up. Are you trying to tell me that you haven’t had sex in three years? Sorry Dor’. I’m finding that a little hard to believe.”

  “Why? You think I’m easy?”

  He held his hands out as if to ward off an attack.

  “No, nuh-uh, no way. I don’t think anything of the sort. It’s just that... well... you’re beautiful and funny and you’re easy to be around. I cannot imagine a guy not making a move on you. Do you have some kind of kinky fetish or something?”

  Now it was my turn to narrow my eyes.

  “Are you out of your fucking mind? Was that meant to be funny?”

  “Not in the least. Are you against experimentation in the bedroom?”

  “Deacon, who’s interviewing who here?”

  “I thought we were off that track and talking as friends. Answer the question, friend.”

  “No I’m not against anything. Are you?”

  “Nope. I’ll try anything once and probably have. I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around that three year thing though. Damn woman. You need to get laid.”

  “Now you sound like my sister.”

  “Just making an observation as your friend. Tell me something Dor’. How many men have you slept with?”

  The answer popped out of my mouth before I could think about it.

  “Three.”

  “Three? Are you shittin’ me?”

  “No I’m not. How many women have you slept with?”

  Having the spotlight directed on him didn’t suit him. He blushed and broke eye contact.

  “Deacon? How many?”

  “I don’t know... maybe a hundred or so...”

  I dropped my pad on the floor in my hurry to lean forward.

  “A hundred? And you say you’re not a manwhore?”

  His eyes shot to mine and they darkened, but I didn’t lean back. Many people would have, but for some reason, I didn’t find Deacon intimidating anymore.

  “I am NOT a manwhore Dorothy. For your information, I lost my virginity when I was fifteen. That was thirteen years ago. Some women find me attractive and yes, they throw themselves at me. I can’t help that. My college years were...active and my wealth doesn’t hurt either. That’s the main reason I’m a confirmed bachelor.”

  Okay, didn’t see that one coming but I’d be damned if I was gonna let it lie.

  “Do tell. Bad experience?”

  He hesitated and I could see the debate raging behind his eyes. I had a feeling this wasn’t a story that many people knew and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to share it with me. I wanted to make it easier.

  “Deacon, whatever you tell me is between us unless you say otherwise. You have my word.”

  He closed his eyes and I knew I was about to enter his inner circle. I would say I felt privileged, but it was more than that. I felt honored and yes, humbled in a strange way.

  “A few years ago I met someone. Someone special. She was fun and easy to be with. We talked easily and I enjoyed her company more than anyone else’s. Over time, I believed we were in love. I was anyway and I assumed she was as well. We were almost a year into the relationship and we were still going strong. That’s when I found her in Anton’s office one day, asking him strange questions. He’d grown fond of her as well, accepting her as the sister he never had. She must’ve felt comfortable with him, because she was questioning him about my monetary worth and if I actually owned the company outright. All the questions centered around money and she didn’t realize I was standing outside his open office door, listening. It didn’t take a genius to figure out her angle. I confronted her about it and of course there were tears and the obligatory apologies on her part, but she didn’t deny anything. We broke up that day and I never looked back. I also never forgot the lesson I learned that day.”

  My heart broke for him. I couldn’t stop myself and I did what I think any friend would do in the same situation. I moved to the sofa and wrapped my arms around him. He melted into the hug and wrapped his arms around my waist. Sometimes, you need a hug. I spoke softly into the top of his head, the side of his face was tucked up under my chin. I knew he could hear me.

  “Deacon, she was an idiot. Surely you realize that you’re worth more than the sum of your bank account, right?”

  He didn’t move when he answered.

  “I wonder sometimes. I’m not an easy man to love Dor’. And don’t get me wrong. Women say they ‘love’ me, but they don’t
even know me. How can you say that about someone you don’t know unless there’s an underlying motive?”

  “You’ve got me there and I understand. Everyone I’ve ever dated wants an in with my dad. So in a lot of ways, you and are are paddling the same canoe. But you know what?”

  He raised his head to look at me, but we remained in our embrace.

  “What?”

  “I refuse to give up hope. Even after Hamm, I still believe that somewhere out there, there has to be someone that will see me for me and not my last name. Granted, I’m not actively searching for that someone, but if he’s out there, he’ll find me.”

  “Who’s Hamm?”

  I turned him loose and leaned back into the sofa. How did we circle our way into this mess? I never told that story and I had no intentions of spilling my guts to Deacon Sloan of all people. Yet here we were, “sharing”, and he’d just told me a major secret so who was I to deny him a secret in exchange?

  I blew out a deep breath and proceeded to slice that vein wide open, bleeding my most embarrassing story to a stranger I’d met not even a week ago.

  He listened with rapt attention, never interrupting, as I gave all the details of our two-year relationship and how it ended. He laughed at how I ended it, but I wasn’t offended in the least. It sounded hilarious to my ears as well. When I was done, he leaned back next to me and casually took my hand in his.

  “We’re quite the pair, eh?”

  I had to smile at that observation.

  “We sure are Deke. Think there’s any hope for us?”

  “I don’t know. You seem to think there’s always hope. Can I say something purely from a male point of view?”

  “You know my deepest secret now. Say whatever you want.”

  “You do have a mighty fine pair Dor’. I can’t blame Hamm for staring, but he could’ve been more subtle about it.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment coming from a manwhore and all.”