His Wasted Heart

by Monica Murphy

  “Why are you doing this anyway? Are you trying to get back at Dad for something? Trying to take everything that belongs to him? His wife, his business?” I ask.

  Park messes with the edge of his napkin, his gaze locked on the table. “I don’t know. It was just…something to do, I guess.”

  “Something to do.” My voice is flat, my thoughts going haywire. “So there’s no reason at all? You’re just messing around with dad’s wife because it was something to do? What the actual fuck, Park?”

  “I can’t explain why I did it. I’m messed up, okay? After Mom died, I felt lost—”

  I interrupt him. “So did I.”

  “Yeah, but you were allowed to cry out for your mommy at night. I wasn’t. Dad told me I had to be strong, because I was the oldest. I couldn’t cry.” Park’s gaze grows distant as he stares out the window. “And then Diane came into our lives, Dad treating her like she belonged with us, that she was a part of our family, and I was so confused. I didn’t want her there. She wasn’t our mom. She was a stranger. He just…replaced Mom with Diane.”

  I remember feeling the same exact way too. One minute our mother was there, the next she was gone, and then a few minutes later, Diane moved in.

  “I’ve always resented him,” Park continues. “Everything he tells me to do, I want to do the opposite. I’ve only been towing the line the last couple of years because I want the company. I want to take over, and he wants to retire early so he can get a few years of travel in with Diane before he kicks the bucket.”

  “So you take his wife, his company, his life. Is that your plan?” When Park doesn’t say anything, I keep talking. “Because that’s a messed up plan, Park. It’s not going to work. He finds out you’re banging Diane, he’ll take the company away from you. For good.”

  “That’s why he’ll never find out.” Park smiles, then finishes off his beer. “You can’t tell him, Rhett.”

  “I won’t,” I say, though honestly, he doesn’t deserve my silence. But he’s my brother. I’m loyal to him, I’ve always been loyal to him. He’s taken care of me since I can remember. Helped me with homework, sometimes even helped me cheat. Gave me girl advice, beat up that kid who tried to bully me in the seventh grade, and he let me crawl into bed and sleep with him for the first three months after Mom died.

  So yeah. Park has been there for me as long as I can remember.

  But so has Dad.

  Our server appears with our sandwiches and we remain quiet as she sets the plates in front of us. Once she’s gone, I start talking again. “What about Diane?”

  Park has already started eating. “What about her?” he asks, his mouth full.

  “Do you trust her? Do you believe she’ll keep her mouth shut?”

  Park sends me an are you kidding look before wiping his mouth with a napkin. “Absolutely. That bitch has it made. She gets to spend all of Dad’s money, travel the world and bang me on the side. She’s not about to ruin that by confessing her love for me or whatever to Dad.”

  “Does she love you?” I can’t imagine real emotions playing a part in this weird scheme, but they have been doing this for a while. Could they actually care for each other? “Do you love her?”

  “No. Yes. I don’t know.”

  He’s not going to give me a straight answer. Maybe that’s because there is no straight answer. The line has blurred between those two, and now that line is so blurry, they don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore.

  Am I making excuses for them? Probably.

  “Listen, I don’t want to be a part of this—situation,” I tell him. “Don’t ask me to lie for you or hide something for you. I can’t be involved any further than I already am. And I don’t want Diane to know you met me for lunch today. I don’t even want you to mention my name to her, okay?”

  “Too late.” The easy smile on Park’s face annoys me so damn bad I want to slap it off him. “I told her last night.”

  Exhaling loudly, I rest my elbow on the table and run my hand through my hair. “What the hell, Park? I don’t want to talk to her about any of this.”

  “Fine, you won’t talk to her about it. Whatever.” Park digs into the second half of his sandwich.

  “You know what you’re doing is messed up, right?” I’m thinking he doesn’t.

  Park shrugs, then takes a sip from his beer. “Fucked up things happen every single day, Rhett. You think the world is normal? You’re wrong. It’s not. We’re all out there fucking around, doing forbidden things, excited that we might get caught. Even more excited when we don’t. The thrill of doing something you’re not supposed to is intoxicating stuff, brother.”

  His words stick with me after I leave the café and head to my two o’clock class. I hate to admit he’s right, but…he is. It’s exciting to be with someone you shouldn’t be.

  Like Jensen.

  I think of our earlier fight, and how stupid it was. Though I guess she did have the right to be angry with me. She thought I was trying to tear her down, when really I was hoping she would say, “You’re right! Let me go find another job ASAP.”

  That didn’t happen. Her confession that she actually likes her job surprised me. When I first saw her there, before she noticed me, she looked weary. Almost…

  Sad.

  I hate that she shows her tits to everyone who walks into that place, but do I also like it because I can claim those tits as mine? What kind of asshole does that make me?

  The worst kind?

  I’m sitting on the hood of my car wearing my thickest jacket and a beanie, my ass staying warm thanks to my car’s engine. It’s past two in the morning and I’m exhausted. I took a nap after our game—which we won, but it doesn’t count yet so who cares—and now I’m here, in the parking lot of City Lights on an early Friday morning.

  Waiting for Jensen.

  I thought about texting her, but she probably would’ve ignored me, and I didn’t want that. Apologizing to her in person for our earlier argument is the right thing to do.

  So here I sit, waiting for her to walk out the back doors of the club so I can talk to her.

  And finally those doors do swing open, and she and Savannah exit, their heels clicking loudly in the otherwise quiet night. I can hear the low murmur of their conversation as they draw closer, though I can’t make out any particular words.

  Is she talking about me? Did she complain to Savannah about our argument from this morning? Or does she keep that kind of thing to herself? She did call me her dirtiest little secret, but Savannah knows what’s up. She’s been drawn into the middle of our drama more than I’d like.

  “What are you doing here?”

  Jensen’s voice rings out and I glance up to find her standing two cars away from me, clad in a pair of black leggings that she pulled on under her skirt, and she’s wearing a thick, dark gray sweater. Her hair is swept up into a ponytail, the ends curled, and her eyes are lined with the heavy black eyeliner she wore the last time I saw her here.

  Every time I see her, I swear she gets more beautiful. With all the makeup or without, Jensen is the most gorgeous woman ever.

  “I wanted to talk to you, if you’ll let me.” I rest my arms on my bent knees, linking my hands together.

  “You want to talk now? Here in the parking lot?” She sends Savannah a look, one I can’t decipher.

  “You can come back to my place, and then I can drive you home,” I suggest. My heart is thumping wildly and I’m nervous. This girl sets me on edge. I never know what she’s feeling or thinking. We’ve grown closer, but she’s still a mystery.

  One I’m dying to figure out.

  Jensen studies me for a moment, her gaze closed. “You want to take me home after we talk?”

  “Or you can stay the night with me,” I offer. “Whatever you want, Jens. No pressure.” I hold my hands up like the police have me at gunpoint.

  “You know I’m mad at you,” she murmurs as she starts walking toward me. Savannah lingers behind, but she’s still
listening. I really didn’t want an audience for this, but looks like I don’t have a choice.

  I slide off the hood of my car so I’m standing directly in front of Jensen. “I’m sorry for what I said this morning. I was out of line.”

  She tilts her head back, her gaze meeting mine. “Are you really sorry, Rhett? Or are you sorry I didn’t agree with you?”

  Fucking really hate it when she calls me out like that. “I’m sorry for what I said, and how I made you feel. I don’t ever want you to think you’re a disappointment to me, or to anyone.” I take her hands and clutch them in mine. “I can’t help it if I’m a jealous dick.”

  She bursts out laughing, shaking her head. “You’re not a dick. You’ve never really been a dick. You’re too nice.”

  “I’m not that nice.” I pull her into my arms, holding her close. Damn, she feels good. Smells good. I’ve missed her even though I saw her earlier this morning. “You’ve called me an asshole more than once.”

  “I never really meant it.” She turns her head so her mouth is at my neck, her lips brushing my skin when she speaks. “You’re the nicest guy I know.”

  Curling my fingers around the base of her ponytail, I give her hair a little tug. I don’t doubt for an instant that I’m the nicest guy she knows. She’s met up with some major losers. “I’m sorry.”

  “You already apologized.”

  “Just wanted to say it again.” I press a kiss to her forehead and she leans in closer, a tiny smile on her face.

  “Hey Jen, do you need a ride from me or not?” Savannah asks.

  Jensen pulls away from me to look at her friend. “I’m going home with Rhett.”

  My heart soars, I swear to God. Sounds corny as hell, but it’s true. I hustle her into my car before she changes her mind, and we drive back to my house. We waste no time making our way to my bedroom, both of us shedding our clothes until we’re just in our underwear, Jensen’s teeth chattering when she dives under the covers. I climb into bed and haul her to me, my arms going around her waist, her head resting on my chest.

  “How is it I always wind up in your bed?” she asks, her voice laced with amusement.

  I run my fingers through the ends of her ponytail, my eyes closed, my thoughts drifting. This worked out way easier than I thought. I figured she’d put up a major fight, and even told myself I shouldn’t be disappointed if she didn’t come home with me.

  Looks like I got what I wished for.

  “I’m very persuasive when I want to be,” I murmur.

  She lifts her head and I can feel her watching me, but my eyes remain closed. “Are you tired?” she asks.

  “Yeah. I played that basketball game earlier.”

  “Oh, right. Did your team win?”

  “We did, but it was a scrimmage, so it doesn’t count toward our season. That starts next week.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be very busy.”

  “You should come to one of my games. They’re fun.”

  “I don’t want to go alone.”

  “Bring Savannah.”

  “I’d love to watch you play,” she admits.

  I smile. “I’d love to have you there. You’d need to make me a sign, though.”

  “A sign?”

  “Yeah, something with my last name on it or my number—which is twenty-one, by the way—that’s how you can show your support.” I sound like I’m joking, but I’m actually serious.

  “My being there isn’t enough?”

  I crack open my eyes to find her looking totally perplexed. Like she can’t imagine making a sign for me. “Your being there would be more than enough.”

  She rests her head back on my chest with a sigh. “Good. I’m artistically challenged, so my sign would look like total crap.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “No, it’s true. I can’t draw. I’m terrible at arts and crafts.” She’s quiet for a moment and I continue playing with her hair, fighting off sleep. She’s only wearing panties and I’m sporting a halfhearted erection, but I don’t think we’re going to have sex tonight. I’m too tired, and she doesn’t seem into it either.

  Which is fine. This relationship doesn’t have to be all about sex. I don’t want it to be, even though I can’t deny my attraction to her. But I have to show some restraint every once in a while, right?

  “Were you able to get Saturday off?” I ask.

  “I talked to one of the girls I work with and we’re going to trade shifts,” she answers. “So yes, I’ll be there.”

  “Addie will be happy.” And so will I.

  “I like her a lot,” Jensen says.

  “She likes you too. She texted me earlier, telling me how great she thought you were,” I say.

  “Really? That’s so sweet.”

  “Yeah.” My eyes are closed. My breathing slowly deepens. I could fall asleep like this so easily…

  “I should apologize to you for this morning too,” she finally says, her voice quiet. “I said some shitty things.”

  “Don’t worry about it. We were both on edge,” I reassure her.

  “No, I was super defensive. I just.” She hesitates and I wait, all the air lodged in my throat. This moment feels big right now. Like she’s going to reveal something. “I was feeling really low. I get that way sometimes.”

  “I think we all do.”

  “I couldn’t stop worrying about your brother seeing me touch you like I did at the dinner table. I don’t want him to think I grab your dick all day long.” I chuckle and she lightly slaps my chest. “I’m serious. I don’t want him to have the wrong impression of me.”

  “Don’t worry about Park. He’s an asshole. My dad likes you, and that’s all you should care about.”

  “Your stepmom didn’t like me at all.”

  “Why do you care what she thinks? No one else does.”

  “For some weird reason, I want all the Montgomerys to like me.” She sighs, nuzzling her cheek against my pec. “Do you remember what you said to me last night, when I told you about my bad dream?”

  I scrunch my eyebrows, trying to think. The quick change of subject is throwing me off. “Not really.”

  “You said I’m not a whore because I don’t get paid to have sex with guys.”

  “Okay,” I say, drawing the word out.

  “I have something to tell you.” She takes a deep breath. “I tried it once.”

  My eyelids snap open and I stare up at the ceiling, my gaze zeroing in on the ceiling fan. “What do you mean?”

  “Having sex for money. I tried it once.” She ducks her head into my chest and I glance down to see nothing but her blonde ponytail. I gently yank on her hair and she lifts her head, her expression full of shame and embarrassment.

  “So what you’re telling me is, you had sex with a guy and he paid you for it after it was over.” I can’t wrap my head around this. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t. I’ve dealt with enough bullshit today from Park. “What the hell, Jensen?”

  “No, wait.” She scrambles so she’s sitting cross-legged on my bed. I scoot up so my back is against the headboard and I can see her better. Plus, there’s distance between us now, and I kind of need it. “Let me explain.”

  Instead of explaining herself, she’s silent, pressing her lips together, her eyes extra wide, until I can’t stand the suspense any longer. “I’m waiting.”

  “Hold on! I’m trying to figure out how to tell you this.” She rubs her forehead before lifting her gaze to mine. “Okay. I’m broke, right? I mean, I make good money there, but it all goes to my college expenses, or to rent and bills and stuff.”

  Rent. Her house. “Whatever happened to your little house?”

  “I never went back,” she whispers. “I just—it doesn’t matter. Let me tell you what happened, okay?”

  “Okay, okay. Go ahead.” I both want to know more and hope she doesn’t say anything else. As in, I’m quietly freaking out over here, but keeping a straight face because I want her to confess. I want her to be h
onest and open with me.

  “One night, my boss tells me a customer likes me, and asks if I would be interested in providing—extra services to him. At first, I tell him no. Absolutely not. But then Don says how much the guy wants to pay, and it’s so much money, I have to say…yes.”

  “Jesus,” I mutter, cradling my head in my hands. “When did this happen?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  I lift my head. “Yeah, it kind of does.”

  Calm down. Don’t make her run.

  “Please, Rhett. I’m not even done with my story. Let me get it out.” She clears her throat before she continues. “I met the guy in one of the private rooms we have, and at first, everything was…okay. He was a little older, a good-looking guy, though, in good shape, wearing nice clothes, and I’m pretty sure he was very wealthy. But, he would give me backhanded compliments, and he never seemed that in to me.”

  “You wanted him in to you?” I can’t even wrap my head around this.

  “When he’s paying ten thousand dollars to be with a girl for a few hours, you’d think he would be interested, right?” she asks sarcastically.

  “Ten grand?”

  She nods. “I know. That’s a lot of money, and I was going to get a huge piece of it. More money than I’d ever had in my lifetime. That’s why I said yes.”

  Money is a huge motivator when you don’t have it. Something I’ve never had to experience before. Does that make me privileged?

  Yes. Yes, it does.

  “Anyway, it started to downward spiral quick, and I got irritated with him, and he got mad at me. Then he started getting rough with me, and I had to fight him off. Luckily, I got away from him. And he never came back either. He left his ten thousand dollar payment with Don, and disappeared.”

  We’re both quiet and I try to process what she said. She’s so matter-of-fact while telling her story. Hardly showing any emotion when it sounds like it was a terrible experience. And the same thing keeps running through my brain: He got rough with her.

  “What do you mean, he got rough with you? Are you saying he tried to—assault you?”