Fabulous Filthy Friend, page 7
Alicia offers me a sympathetic look. “Girl, I get it. I moved across the country and was out here totally alone. But I made it out on the other side. And I have Cade and the kids.”
A vise wraps around my chest, stealing my breath. “What if I don’t have Flynn anymore?”
“Stop it. Don’t even think like that. It’s just a little tiff. Have you never fought with a friend before?”
I narrow my eyes on her. “Of course, I have, just not with him.”
“It’ll be fine. I promise, and I swear if Cade comes back with anything you need to know, I’ll tell you. Until then”—she raises her glass—“let’s just drink.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Only not too much since I have to deal with twenty five-year-olds in the morning.
FLYNN
Cade eyes me while he pets Prince, who snores lightly where he’s curled up on the couch next to him. “You really look like shit, mate.”
His accent doesn’t help soften the sting of his observation, even though women seem to find it charming and sexy.
I scrub a hand over my face and sigh. “Gee, thanks, asshole.”
How the hell does he look so good and well-rested when he has two kids and a mastiff running around his house?
“What?” Cade raises his dark eyebrows at me and smirks. “You want me to lie to you? You picked the wrong person.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “I just rather you didn’t state the obvious.”
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to see that I’ve barely slept and have a lot on my mind. And Cade knows me well enough by now to recognize this isn’t normal. Even at the height of the market’s crash, when my entire world and career felt like it was crumbling, it wasn’t this bad. Because I had her. My best friend to lean on and to keep me from wallowing in self-pity and guilt. And then I had HRD4U as a way to relieve stress and become someone else, someone with no responsibilities or clients to answer to, someone with no problems.
Now neither of those things are stress-free anymore. My shower release last night felt off. And then someone slashed my tires, requiring me to sit at my office late to wait for AAA to come to bring replacement ones. Plus…I now have a mastiff that weighs almost as much as me on my couch.
I motion toward Cade’s companion. “Did you have to bring Prince with you?”
He takes a swig of his beer and pats him on the head. “He didn’t want me to leave. Kept making those annoying whining sounds at the door as soon as I closed it behind me. Alicia didn’t want him to wake up the kids.”
“Well, he better not chew on anything or shit on my couch.”
Cade feigns offense and places his hand over his chest. “I’m hurt you would ever think poor Prince could partake in such awful behavior.”
I laugh and drain half my beer. “I’ve heard the stories and seen the evidence all over your house. But nice try.”
Cade takes a swig of his beer and glances at Prince. “He’s a good boy, most of the time. And I promise he won’t do anything to increase your stress level. You’re a wreck as it is. Is all of this because of whatever’s going on with Rachel?”
I walk to the window and peek through the blinds across the street to Cade and Alicia’s house. “Yeah.”
Because of Rachel.
At least, that’s all I plan on telling him right now. It’s not that I think Cade would judge me if I told him about HRD4U and the guilt that has suddenly popped up over doing it; I’m just not ready to open that can of worms at this moment. It’s enough that my relationship with my best friend is on the rocks.
“What happened between you two, anyway? All I heard from Alicia was that something went down and you aren’t talking, which we all know is not usual.”
“I know.” I squeeze my eyes shut and drop my forehead against the cool glass of the window. “I fucked up, though.”
“Why? What happened?”
“She came to church with Mom and me on Sunday, and afterward, we went out for coffee. I had a lot on my mind and having Rachel there didn’t make it any easier.”
“Why? Because you’re in love with her?”
I jerk my head around to look at him. A smug smile tilts his lips.
Coughing slightly, I shift under his assessment. “I never said that.”
“You don’t have to, mate. I’ve been friends with both of you for long enough to know what I see. And what I see when you look at her is love.” He holds up a hand to stop me from interrupting. “And not the kind of love between friends.”
Shit. If it’s that obvious to him, is it that obvious to Rachel, too?
“I didn’t realize I was so transparent.”
He laughs and leans back on the couch. Prince shifts with him and drops his head onto Cade’s lap. “I think you do a fairly good job of hiding it from her, but Alicia and I have definitely seen it. Why don’t you make a move, man? Why not see if she feels the same way?”
“Because she doesn’t. It’s been five years. If she liked me as anything more than a friend, thought of me as anything more than another brother, I would know by now. Something would’ve happened between us. She would’ve said something…”
Cade drains his beer and sets the empty bottle on the side table. “Would she? Why haven’t you?”
“Because I don’t want to risk losing her friendship.”
His shoulders rise and fall. “Maybe she’s holding back for the same reason.”
“No”—I shake my head—“she’s looking for a certain kind of guy, and I’m not it.”
He snorts and sighs. “What kind of guy do you think she’s looking for? Because it seems like none of the guys she’s dated recently meet her expectations.”
Rachel’s perfect guy…
It’s not something I like to think about. Someone else with her. Someone else kissing her. Someone else holding her hand. Someone else touching her.
But I know what Rachel needs.
“She needs a nice guy with a firm head on his shoulders who will treat her like the queen she is and give her his world.”
“And you can’t be that?”
I shake my head. “No.”
And I can’t tell Cade or her why not. And I would never be able to keep it from her if we were in a relationship that was more than friendship. I couldn’t hide HRD4U or pretend I’m something I’m not.
“So, I think you need to make a decision. You either go for it, or you let her go. Shit or get off the pot, mate. Or you’re going to drive yourself insane.”
I squeeze my eyes closed. “I know. I need to start being a better friend and forgetting that I want more.”
“How do you plan on doing that?”
“I don’t know yet.”
I need some time to figure it out, so I don’t inadvertently say something that will send her running scared and push her further away than she already is right now.
I’ve created my own worst nightmare—a life without her in it.
And I need to figure out a way to fix it.
Maybe that starts with clearing my head about some other things…
8
FLYNN
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been…gosh…ten years since my last confession.”
When I was a senior in high school and the nuns made us go weekly. Which means I have a decade worth of sins to get off my chest. But it’s really only two that are weighing on me enough to get me up and out of bed early to make it here before going into work after days of not sleeping since the fight with Rach. Only two that kept me up all night after Cade finally left. Only two that brought me to face my fear of God’s wrath.
“And what brings you here today, my son?”
Shit.
Mom. Rachel.
The woman who commented on my feed the other night about what a great guy I seemed like and asking where she could find a guy like me.
It’s left me wondering…
Am I really a great guy?
Doing this?
Snapping at Rachel like that?
If “great guys” did things like I do as HRD4U, I wouldn’t feel so guilty or be so afraid of Mom or Rachel finding out. People always say only God can judge you, but the risk of being judged by the women in my life is truly what worries me the most.
I couldn’t even be concerned about the punks who slashed my tires last night because Rach’s face wouldn’t leave my damn head. My car means nothing compared to losing her.
I release a deep sigh that fills the tiny confines of the confessional booth. “Well, Father. I’ve been dealing with some feelings of guilt lately about some things I’ve been doing.”
“I see, my son. Guilt is often the way our conscience tells us we should not be doing something. What is it you’ve been doing to cause such negative feelings and disquiet in your heart?”
Disquiet in my heart.
Those words resonate through me and settle deep in my chest, in the very place the priest so wisely referenced. I never thought about it in those terms, but disquiet in my heart is the perfect description for what I’ve been feeling lately.
I can only imagine what the old man behind the partition is picturing—theft, rape, murder—the worst of the seven cardinal sins they warn us about in Mass every Sunday.
What I’ve been doing is nothing compared to those things we’re always told will send us straight to Hell, but I still can’t shake the weight from my shoulders or the feeling of dirt on my skin.
Lust is a deadly sin for a reason.
It still stains your soul, even if it doesn’t mean getting blood on your hands.
It was so easy when I could separate HRD4U from Flynn, but that’s getting harder and harder, if not impossible.
“It’s not anything illegal or criminal or anything like that.”
The old priest—Father Lafayette if I’m not mistaken—chuckles. “That’s good to know, my son. So, what is the problem?”
“Well…”
Shit. How do I tell this guy what I’ve been doing?
It’s probably best to rip off the Band-Aid. Just tell him.
“Father, I have a webcam site.”
Silence greets me.
He clears his throat. “I’m not sure I follow.”
Of course, he doesn’t. This guy is probably ninety years old and has no idea what a fucking webcam is.
“Uh, it’s a camera system that allows people to go on the internet and see me.”
All of me. In my birthday suit. And then some…
“Ah, I see, and where’s the problem?”
I bury my face in my hands and release a sigh.
Jesus, is he going to make me say it?
“They watch me do…things.” That should be enough for him to draw the right conclusions.
“What kinds of things?”
Oh, God…
This is my penance right here. Having to actually say the words. This is the Lord Almighty telling me it’s wrong and making me pay.
I clear my throat. “Well…cooking, cleaning, showering—”
“Showering?”
“Yes, Father, and…you know…choking the chicken.”
“Choking the chicken? I’m sorry, son, I don’t understand.”
God, strike me down right now.
Take me before I have to say these words.
Was this guy never a teenager?
Do priests not have any sex drive?
Surely, this guy must have masturbated at least once in his life.
There has to be another way to say this. Another way to get my point across. “You know…beating the meat? Stroking the pole? Polishing the banister?”
He sighs. “I’m sorry, son, but you’re confusing me here.”
Christ…
“Father, I jerk off. I masturbate, and they watch me.”
The temperature in the confessional booth drops about ten degrees, almost as if a cold front has slipped through as the words hang in the air between us. Undoubtedly, Father Lafayette has heard some interesting things in this box over the years, but I highly doubt he’s encountered this one before. If he were in L.A. or Vegas, it could be possible, but Redondo Beach isn’t exactly a hotbed of illicit behavior.
He pauses briefly and clears his throat like he’s searching for his words. “And you do this for money?”
“Yes, women, and sometimes men, pay to watch me do this.”
Saying the words out loud has bile rising in my throat. I’ve never told anyone about HRD4U, let alone a sexually repressed celibate priest who probably believes even thinking about masturbation is a sin.
“This is how you support yourself?”
“I have a good job, but I needed additional income when the market went south, and I kind of fell into this work.”
The joking in the locker room at the gym about what a wet dream I must be for women because of my physique and big dick is what got this whole thing started. One simple comment about a webcam. Something said in jest by a guy I lift weights with. He never knew I took the idea and ran with it.
“My son, I can see why you’re feeling guilty about this. First Corinthians 6:18 says, ‘Flee from sexual immorality. All other sins a person commits are outside the body, but whoever sins sexually, sins against their own body.’”
The words hit me one by one, each a blow to my already fragile conscience. Yet, growing up reading the Bible and having it read to me, I always knew there were contradictions. And one comes to mind now.
“But Proverbs 3:27 says, ‘Do not withhold good from those to whom it is due, when it is in your power to do it.’ Isn’t that what I’m doing? A service to others? And First Corinthians 6:20 says, ‘You were bought at a price. Therefore, honor God with your bodies.’ I’m sharing my body, sharing what God has given me in his own image with others.”
“I don’t think the Bible quite had this type of situation in mind.”
No, it most certainly did not.
Father Lafayette continues, “Nor the sexualization of society that has occurred in recent years. Which is just as much at fault for this type of behavior as your own actions. It’s the cardinal sin of lust working its way into our collective psyche. The work of the Devil himself that cannot be ignored so easily.”
Wait, what? Is this guy giving me a free pass?
It’s been a long time since I’ve sat in a confession booth, but I don’t remember it going like this in the past. It was more fire and brimstone, hours of penance, and less understanding back then.
Maybe times have changed in the church.
He shifts on the other side of the metal mesh separating us. “Are you hurting anyone with this behavior?”
I shrug even though he can barely see me. “I don’t know. I hope not.”
But I can’t really know that.
How could I?
I don’t know those people’s lives. Whether or not they’re married or in a relationship. Whether their significant others are okay with them watching me. Whether or not they have the money to spend on their site subscription or whether they are taking food from their kids’ mouths to pay for it. Whether or not it’s some kind of porn addiction that’s destroying them slowly.
All I know is the people who watch want to watch. I’m not forcing anything on anyone.
“It sounds like the only real issue here is your internal struggle with your behavior.”
“Yes, and something one of my viewers said to me the other night.”
“Which was what?”
“She asked why she couldn’t find a good guy like me, a nice guy like me. It made me wonder if I really am a nice and good guy doing this.”
The priest sighs again, and through the screen, I can make out his hand rising and falling, almost like he’s issuing a blessing. “My son, even good people do bad things or things that are morally questionable. God forgives all. The first book of John 1:9—‘If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.”
“What if I keep doing it?”
“He will continue to forgive you. That’s what God’s love is all about.”
He makes it sound so simple. It’s great that I have God’s love, but it doesn’t get me anywhere near Rachel’s or help relieve any of this guilt. Nor does it offer me any advice on how to deal with my feelings for her.
“There’s more, Father.”
“More?”
The tension in his question tightens my chest. After that reveal, he’s probably expecting something really bad.
“Yes.” I rub at my eyes and sigh. “I was pretty awful to my best friend the other day when she was only trying to help me because she cares.”
“To what do you attribute the negative behavior?”
“Shit.” I scrub a hand over my face. “Crap. I’m sorry, Father. I…I love her. As far more than a friend, and I’m having a hard time reconciling the fact that I can’t be with her.”
“Does she not feel the same way?”
“No, she doesn’t. We’re just friends, and even if she did, if she found out what I’ve been doing, I know I would lose her forever.”
Another silence falls between us, and he shifts and leans toward the mesh screen. “Son, you need to do whatever you can to lighten the load on your soul.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Whatever you think it does.”
Not helpful.
He’s worse than seeing a psychiatrist.
“Father, what’s my penance?”
Maybe ten million Hail Marys or Our Fathers will help. But I doubt it.
RACHEL
Four days. More than ninety damn agonizing hours since I left Flynn’s car on Sunday. The longest we’ve gone without talking to each other in five years.
And I’m a wreck because of it.
I never realized how much I rely on him for normalcy and comfort. How much his friendship really means to me. I thought I knew, but this has brought my true dependency on him to the forefront. The longer this goes on, the more I miss hearing his voice or him making me laugh.
