Confessions of a Bad Boy(62)

“I’ll drink to that,” I say, grabbing my cup and hitting it against hers, causing her to smile for the first time since I entered the diner.

“I suppose this means you’ll be trying for that house loan again?”

“Already did, and already denied. This bank didn’t even call me, just sent me a form e-mail this morning. I thought third time was the charm, but I guess not. Maybe fourth?”

“Oh, Jessie, I’m—”

“It’s cool. I’ll just have to work twice as hard, save up for a bigger down payment. One good thing that did come out of my little ‘charade’ at the retreat was that I made some good contacts. I’m going to get to work on them and hope something develops.”

“Fingers crossed. You deserve a bit of luck.”

“Maybe,” I say. “But I stopped believing in karma a long time ago.”



Once we’re done, I drive us both back to our apartment and try to steer the conversation away from talk about maternity leave and baby showers by asking Lorelei more questions about what’s going on in her own life. I’ve spent so much time with Nate recently that I’ve missed a lot. She’s reluctant at first, too concerned about my state of mind and well-being, but once I convince her that I need the distraction and I want to get caught up, there’s no stopping her.

From the drive, to the walk up to our apartment, to the point at which we’re sitting in the living room with a couple of drinks (mine non-alcoholic, of course) she gives me a full checklist of her thoughts. From her indecisiveness about changing her hair color, to the book she’s reading about psychopaths, to the intern at work who she’s sure likes her but is six years her junior. It’s a relief to listen, to feel like I’m being a good friend again.

Eventually, talk turns to her favorite topic: the Bad Boy. I groan and pretend I suddenly have stuff to do, but she ignores me and continues to expound on his virtues (which as far as I can tell are just having a hot voice and talking about sex) as if it’s for my own good.

“I can’t believe you still haven’t even checked him out, Jessie. Seriously.”

“I plan to keep it that way. The last thing I need is another * in my life.”

Lorelei sighs. “He’s so not an *.”

“He sounds just like one,” I tell her.

“Owning your sexuality is practically the first commandment of feminism!”

“I don’t think that’s exactly correct, but I guarantee you he is not a feminist,” I snort. “He’s a predator.”

“Either way, he’s talking sense! That’s why you have to hear him for yourself,” Lorelei says, her voice getting more excited as she pulls out her phone, jumps up from her chair and sits next to me, squashing me against the armrest.

“Ugh,” I moan, “really?”

“Yes. Let me just show you this one… No, this one… Wait…this one – oh this one was amazing.”

I let out a deep sigh and resign myself to my fate as Lorelei starts the video and holds it in front of us. The video loads and a sculpted torso, its lines accentuated by the side-lighting in the semi-darkness, comes into the shot. I suppress a laugh and watch.

“You can spend a lifetime trying to figure the opposite sex out. You can read books, experiment, travel the world, and still feel like they’re speaking a language you don’t get…”

Something immediately feels wrong. Something about this video. His voice compels me, not so much what he’s saying, but the way he’s saying it. It feels familiar. The rhythm, the cadence, the intonation. I put it down to whatever it is that’s made him popular and continue watching.

“You can learn the hard way, pick up the bruises and read them like runes to get a little closer to the truth. You can let yourself be swayed by all the gurus, conmen, and sleazeballs out there who claim to have the answer…”

I let out a little snort at the irony, and Lorelei shoots me a quick, placating look. I turn back to the video, the sense of unease growing despite the ridiculousness of what he’s saying.

“You wanna figure out what the opposite sex wants? You already know. Listen to your body, your feelings, your primal urges. Get rid of all that surface bullshit, and learn to be an animal again. A creature of emotions and sensations and—”

“Stop the video,” I say suddenly.

“What? He’s just getting to the good part!”

“Stop it!”

Lorelei obliges and pulls back a little to look at me dubiously.

The hand I bring to my mouth is shaking, and I’m struggling to breathe properly. I feel my body go deathly cold.

“Jessie? What’s wrong?”

I look at her, and even though she’s right next to me on the couch, I feel like I’m calling at her from a thousand miles underground, the shock of realization pounding my consciousness into its deepest recess.

“It’s Nate,” I say, my voice trembling so much it turns the words into drawled moans with multiple syllables.

“What?” Lorelei says. “Forget about Nate, Jessie. Jesus. I thought you were having—”

“No,” I cry desperately, jabbing my finger at the phone for a few seconds before I can bring the next words to my lips. “Him. The ‘Bad Boy.’”