Losing His Shirt

by Linda Fausnet

  As I sat alone in my living room, I felt like the stereotypical lonely bachelor. I had put on a few pounds, but I really couldn’t help it. I hadn’t realized how expensive healthy food was, and I no longer went to the gym. I was exhausted by the time I came home from work, and then I had to do laundry, make dinner, do dishes, and all that kind of crap. Tomorrow was payday, but it was hard to care. My first paycheck was quite a shock. It was nowhere near the amount I had expected, which still wasn’t much. And I couldn’t believe how big a bite Uncle Sam took out of my ass for taxes, not to mention health insurance. Fuck, just staying alive was expensive, with little money left to do anything else. I had heard the phrase “cost of living” before, but I never really understood it until now. I felt like I was living in the real world for the first time in my life.

  And it sucked huge donkey balls.

  I missed Rosemary more and more every day. I always felt so much better when I heard from her, even when it was just an email. I loved looking at her pretty face on her Facebook page, and I longed to see her sweet smile in person. Sudden sadness overwhelmed me when I thought of her. My life was so fucking pathetic now, that I had no longer had any hope of winning her over. By the time I got my shit together, she’d probably be married with kids. Physical pain sliced right through my chest when I pictured Rosemary as someone else’s bride.

  I polished off my frozen dinner and dumped the plastic tray into the already overflowing trash in the kitchen, and then headed into my bedroom. It was too early to go to sleep, but I flopped down on the bed and just lay there for a while. I was even too depressed to jerk off, which was really saying something.

  I jumped when my cell phone rang. I sat up to answer it, figuring it was my mom. I didn’t feel like talking to her at the moment, but I was desperate for any human contact.

  My heart lurched in my chest when I saw the caller ID. Rosemary.

  I froze while the phone rang several more times. I ached to hear her voice, but I couldn’t bear the thought of telling her how I was faring. The phone continued to ring; I knew if I didn’t answer it, I would regret it for the rest of my fucking life.

  Answer, you dumb motherfucker! Just tell her that the job is going great and you’re doing fine.

  I finally tapped the answer button and said as confidently as I could, “Hello?”

  “Hey, Johnny. It’s Rosemary.”

  I closed my eyes, relishing the sound of her delicate, feminine voice. “Hey, Rosemary. How’s it going?”

  I opened my eyes, jumped up off the bed, and started pacing nervously as I talked to her.

  “It’s goin’ pretty good. I just wanted to check in to see how you’re doing. It’s been a while since I heard from you,” she said.

  That’s because it was your turn to email. My last message was on the 3rd at 7:12pm, and I’ve been checking my emails obsessively for two weeks, but you never wrote back.

  “Yeah, you know. Been busy with the job and all,” I told her.

  “Oh, I’m so glad the job is working out for you,” Rosemary said, sounding relieved.

  “It’s going good!” I said with confidence I certainly didn’t feel.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, it’s great!”

  “Why don’t I believe you?” She sounded worried.

  I was so comforted by her voice that I felt like crying. All my loneliness and desperation suddenly came crashing down on me. I stopped pacing and lay back down on the bed.

  “I lost my penthouse,” I said quietly.

  “Oh, Johnny, I’m so sorry. I was worried that might happen. Are you all right?”

  “Yeah, yeah. It’s not like I’m homeless. I’m just living in a one-bedroom dump at the moment.” I couldn’t believe I’d said that out loud. What in the fuck was I thinking?

  “You should’ve called me. I would have helped you move or … something. I’m sorry you had to go through that, Johnny.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  Rosemary was quiet for a moment, but it was nice just knowing she was there.

  “Where are you now?” she asked.

  “My shithole apartment.”

  Nice. Use words like “shithole” around a classy woman like Rosemary. You’re a real poet, Creel.

  Rosemary laughed, which made me feel a little better. “No, I mean exactly where in your apartment. Living room? Bedroom?”

  My dick got hard just hearing her say the word bedroom. Good God, I wanted her so bad.

  “Bedroom,” I said as huskily as I could. I lay on my bed conjuring up delightful images of me inside Rosemary, making her scream my name.

  “Okay!” Rosemary said, as if deliberately trying to snap me out of my naughty thoughts. “I want you to go into the kitchen.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it. What else have you got to do?”

  I laughed. “Good point.” I had no friends and no life right now, and I was pretty sure she knew it. And yet she never made me feel pathetic. I’d been ashamed when Christina laughed in my face, when I didn’t have any money to give her. Rosemary would never laugh at me, though she had every right to.

  I heaved myself off the bed and walked to the kitchen.

  “Okay, here I am. I’m standing in this hideous, tiny cutout of a room that is allegedly a kitchen.”

  “Okay, good. Now take a good look at it,” Rosemary instructed.

  “Do I have to? It’s not a pretty sight.” I looked around at the filthy kitchen with a sink full of dishes.

  “Yes. You have a refrigerator, right?”

  “Yes. I suppose now you’re gonna ask me if it’s running?”

  Rosemary laughed heartily. It made me so happy.

  “No. Now, take a good look at the fridge.”

  I did what she asked. “What is this, a riddle?”

  “It’s yours.”

  “What?”

  “The fridge. It’s yours. I mean, I know it probably belongs to the owner of the apartment building, but you paid for it. The kitchen, even if it’s small, it’s all yours because you paid for it. Do you have a dishwasher?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know how to use it.”

  “Okay, I’ll walk you through that in a minute. So, you have a dishwasher and a fridge, hopefully with food in it?” She sounded a bit worried when she said that last part, like she was afraid I was going hungry.

  “Yeah. I got groceries last night.”

  “Good. Those are your groceries. You bought them. You own them. Johnny, I know you don’t think much of your place, but it’s all yours. You work hard all week so you can afford it. It might not seem like a big deal, but it really is. I know things are tough for you, but I want you to take a moment and just be proud of what you’ve accomplished. You’ve come a long way already.”

  I fell silent for a moment, taking in her words. I looked around at the kitchen and then out at the living room. It really wasn’t such a terrible place. And she was right. It was mine. For the first time in my life, I felt a small yet genuine sense of pride. I used to feel like a big-shot when I threw money around, but deep down I knew it wasn’t my money, and it was nothing to really be proud of. But this shithole of an apartment? I’d found the place online and signed a lease all on my own.

  “See what I mean?” Rosemary asked softly, as if she knew what I was thinking.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.”

  “For what it’s worth, I’m really proud of you, Johnny.

  It’s worth everything, I wanted to tell her. If you believe in me, then I can do anything.

  “Okay, now go over to your dishwasher, and I’ll tell you how to use it.”

  I grabbed a free sample packet of dishwasher detergent that came in the mail and listened as Rosemary gave me step-by-step instructions on how to use the dishwasher. I asked her how to use the stove, although I’d never cooked anything and had no real desire to learn. I just loved the sound of her voice. I looked around the kitchen and thought about asking for her help with
the microwave just to keep her talking, but I didn’t want her to think I was a total idiot.

  The conversation was winding down. I could sense it. I was running out of things to say. I mean, there were lots of things I wished I could to say to her. I wanted to tell her that I was crazy about her and couldn’t stop thinking about her. That she was beautiful, and sweet, and wonderful, and I adored her.

  “Thank you so much for helping me, Rosemary. When stuff like this happens, I guess you find out who your real friends are.”

  “Yeah,” she said quietly. “Have any of your, you know, friends been in contact with you since this all went down?”

  Rosemary probably wanted to say “snobby asshole friends,” but she was too nice to say it out loud.

  “Kinda. I mean, they paid for movers and stuff, and one of them bought me drinks one night.”

  He also paid for a hotel room so I could fuck a girl senseless, wishing like hell it was you the whole time.

  “Overall, they’re kind of avoiding me. They probably think I’m bad luck,” I told her.

  “You can always call me if you need a friend, okay?”

  I winced. Friend-zone was better than her hating me, but it wasn’t enough.

  “Cool. Thanks.”

  “Well, I better go. Gotta get some laundry done before bed,” Rosemary said.

  Bed. I pictured her lying on her bed. Sleeping, in a sheer nightgown. I bit my lip to keep from moaning at the mere thought.

  “Okay, well …” My mind raced as I tried to think of something—anything—to keep her on the line. I spied a stack of coupons on the counter, and then blurted out, “Hey, can I take you to dinner?”

  “What?”

  I tried to ignore the surprise in her voice. Keep going, keep going. Go for it, but keep it casual so you don’t scare her off.

  “Well you bought me dinner last time, when you fished my sorry ass out of the gutter. I got some ‘Welcome to the Neighborhood’ coupons here. Twenty percent off at Pizza Hut!”

  Rosemary laughed. “Well, I suppose I can’t say no to that.”

  I opened my mouth to tell her I would pick her up, but then I remembered I didn’t have a car. Shit! Now what?

  “Does tomorrow night work for you?” she asked.

  “Y—yeah. Yeah, sounds great,” I said, still trying to figure out the car situation.

  “Okay, well text me the address of the Pizza Hut closest to you and I’ll meet you there. Say six-ish?”

  Don’t say it’s a date, don’t say it’s a date.

  “Works for me. See ya then!” I said, impressed at my ability to sound casual.

  After I hung up, I double-and triple-checked to make sure I had hit the “end call” button, before shouting out loud, “Hot damn!”

  I practically skipped into the bedroom like the ginormous dork that I was. I flopped down on my bed like a giddy teenager who’d just scored his first date.

  Rosemary. Rosemary. I was going to get to see Rosemary tomorrow night.

  I closed my eyes and pictured her in all her loveliness. Sultry green eyes, and that rich, dark red hair spilling down her shoulders, close to those beautiful round breasts of hers.

  What do you know? I found the energy to jerk off after all.

  Chapter 13

  I was a little nervous about meeting Johnny for dinner. I knew he wanted to pay me back, but I hoped he wasn’t getting the wrong idea. This was strictly a friendship thing, and even that was a bit tenuous. He’d been really nice to me since he’d lost his money, but it was hard to forget the way he treated me for so long. I wasn’t quite sure what to make of him yet, and I wasn’t sure I could trust him.

  Johnny was waiting for me outside when I got to the Pizza Hut. It was weird seeing him in a place like that. I mean, he was the son of a billionaire. People like him didn’t usually dine at places with the word “hut” in them.

  He looked quite handsome in his designer jeans and blue collared shirt with the first few buttons undone. Had he been a stranger, I would have craned my neck for a better look. Johnny was the type of hot guy that you nudged your girlfriends to point out. He wasn’t a hot stranger, though. I knew him too well to be all that impressed with his looks.

  Johnny brightened when he saw me—a little too much. He seemed so happy, that I began to worry he had feelings for me. Ugh. He’d been knocked down hard by life lately; the last thing I wanted to do was hurt him, but I was not interested. I smiled as I walked over to him. I could fake it enough so I wouldn’t make him feel bad. I was an actress, after all. Besides, I really did want to help him. I thought of it like giving five bucks to a homeless guy, which I frequently did: it wasn’t going to turn his life around, but it was nice to at least try to make difference. No matter how broke I was, there was always somebody who needed money more than I did.

  “Hi, Rosemary. It’s so nice to see you again.” Johnny smiled warmly. He could be sweet when he wanted to, and he was probably lonely.

  “You too.” I drew in a deep breath and a wave of sudden nausea crashed over me.

  “Hey, are you all right?” Johnny said with concern.

  Great. I’d already blown it. So much for being a good actress.

  “Oh, yeah. I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  Johnny gazed into my eyes. “What’s the matter?”

  “You really want to know?”

  “Of course.” He looked terrified that I was gonna say I was dying of cancer or something.

  I lowered my voice to be as discreet as possible.

  “It’s your cologne,” I gently explained to him. “I usually really like when guys wear cologne. It’s just that … I’m sorry, Johnny. It’s the same cologne you used to wear to the office and, well, I guess I have a bad association with it.”

  Johnny nodded slowly, taking in my words.

  “It was very stressful on days when you came into the office. Half the time you criticized what I was doing, or what other people were doing, and I always had to get your coffee and make sure it was just perfect and—”

  Johnny looked devastated and I felt awful for rambling on. And yet, it felt good to get those things off my chest.

  “I’m so sorry, Rosemary,” Johnny said mournfully.

  “I know you are,” I said softly.

  Johnny opened the door to the restaurant for me, and we walked inside.

  “Two?” the hostess asked us.

  “Yes, please,” Johnny responded.

  “Booth or a table?”

  Johnny looked at me to answer. “Booth, I guess.” I didn’t stop to consider that a booth was more intimate—more date-like—until it was too late.

  Johnny and I followed the hostess to our table.

  “Have you ever been to Pizza Hut?” I asked as I slid into my seat.

  He laughed, which surprised me. “Yes, princess, I have been to Pizza Hut. Even us rich folk—or former rich folk—like fast food. I’ve even had McDonald’s chicken nuggets and french fries.”

  I laughed and relaxed a little. He looked into my eyes for a moment, still smiling, then inspected his menu. “Do you want to share a pizza or did you want something else?”

  “Pizza’s fine,” I said.

  After a few moments of discussion, we settled on our pizza and salad order. I got an iced tea to drink, and he ordered a beer. Pizza Hut only had domestic beer available, and Johnny made a face when he took his first sip.

  “Is the beer not to your liking, sir?” I teased him.

  He grinned. “Okay I admit, I am spoiled rotten when it comes to beer. I’m used to craft beers. Funny thing about beer, though. The more of ‘em you drink, the less you really care about the taste.”

  “True. I feel the same way about shots of Jager.”

  “So,” Johnny began as he set down his beer. He seemed nervous, just like last time. “Are you in any shows right now?”

  I smiled. It was the perfect question to ask me, as theater was my favorite su
bject. “Not at the moment. Closing night for Thoroughly Modern Millie was last week.”

  “Ah, too bad! I wanted to come see you in that again. You were terrific as Millie.”

  “Thanks! It’s always tough when a show ends. You get so attached to the people you work with, you know?”

  “I know what you mean,” he said with a grin. A prickle of nervousness tingled in my stomach. The way he’d been looking at me since I arrived and then saying things like that—ugh. Please don’t make me have to shoot you down, Johnny.

  I ignored his words and continued. “But the theater company tends to cast the same people again and again, so I’ll probably get to work with some of my friends on the next show. Besides, a lot of us like to hang out on the weekends anyway.”

  “That’s nice,” he said. “Do you know what show they’re doing next?”

  “I do! It’s gonna be Spamalot.”

  “Spamalot? What in the world is that? Sounds like a show about cheap canned meat.”

  I laughed. “I know, right? It’s actually a Monty Python thing.”

  “Oh, cool. I love those guys!”

  “Me too. Have you seen Holy Grail?”

  Johnny’s eyes lit up, and in that moment, he struck me as quite handsome. “Hell, yeah! Like, a million times.”

  “Oh, then you would love this show. Spamalot is mostly based on Monty Python and the Holy Grail, and it’s friggin’ hilarious. I saw a production of it at the Warner Theater here in D.C. once. So great!”

  “I bet. So, are you gonna be in it?” Johnny looked genuinely interested. I couldn’t remember the last time a man spent this much time asking me about myself and my interests, even if he was just trying to get into my pants.

  “I hope so. I really do. Trouble is, there’s not that many female roles in it. I really want to play the part of the Lady of the Lake.”

  “Oh, you’ll get the part, Rosemary. I’m sure of it. You’re so talented.”

  “Thank you. That’s very sweet. There’s this great song called ‘The Song That Goes Like This,’ and it’s like this parody of songs in musicals. It’s so much fun. I would love to be able to sing it in the show.” I sang a couple of lines for Johnny—quietly, of course, since we were in a restaurant.