The Revelation

by Lauren Rowe

  “Jeez, before we know it,” Henn says. “We’ll be forty and in the middle of our mandatory midlife crisis.”

  “Jesus. Who knows what fucked up shit Faraday will do then?” Reed says. “He’ll probably get himself a midlife-crisis car like a fucking Lamborghini or some shit like that. Oh, whoops. Already did that.”

  “He’s got a Lamborghini?” Carmen whispers to me, her eyes wide.

  I nod and she mouths, “Wow.”

  “Hey, might as well have the douche-car to match the douche-tattoos,” Josh says, clearly not the least bit offended by Reed’s jab. “Like I always say, ‘Go big or go home.’ Right, Kat?”

  I lean into Josh and put my head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I feel like an idiot.”

  He kisses the top of my head. “We’re just teasing you, babe,” he whispers back. “It’s what we do if we like you. No worries—never worry in this crowd. We’re just playing.”

  “So how about forty, big guy?” Henn asks Josh. “Can you imagine that?”

  Josh shrugs but doesn’t reply. He takes a bite of his food.

  “Well, I can picture all of us at forty,” Henn says. “We’re all exactly the same as we are now—strikingly handsome, fucking geniuses—only difference is we’re married and driving minivans full of screaming kids.”

  Reed makes a scoffing noise. “I think your crystal ball’s got a loose wire, bro—at least relating to me.” He swigs his drink.

  “No ‘married with children’ for you?” I ask Reed. But, really, I’m indirectly asking Josh—hoping maybe he’ll join in the conversation. Why has he gone suddenly mute?

  Reed shakes his head emphatically. “No, thanks. I’m gonna be like George Clooney. That dude’s got the right idea.”

  “Oh, I bet even George Clooney will get married one day,” Carmen says. “When he meets the right woman.”

  “I think so, too,” I agree.

  “No way,” Reed says. “Not George. He’ll be the last man standing.”

  “I’m with the girls on that one,” Henn says. “When George finds the right woman, he won’t wanna let her go. I’d bet anything on it.”

  “Oh, you’d bet anything on it?” Reed asks slowly, rubbing his hands together.

  “Just a figure of speech,” Henn says. “Don’t even try your Jedi mind tricks on me.”

  Josh laughs.

  “Hey, Carmen. Why do you say that about George?” Reed asks. “What do you see that I don’t?”

  Carmen shrugs. “Oh, I dunno. I don’t know the guy. He just seems like a passionate person. And passionate people are always the ones who fall the hardest.” She looks at Will lovingly.

  Will’s face is absolutely adorable right now. He leans in and kisses Carmen on the cheek.

  “I agree with Carmen,” Henn says. “When a man finds the right woman, it’s a game-changer.” He shrugs. “So I hear.”

  “Aw, it sounds like you’re a diehard romantic, Henn,” Carmen says.

  “Maybe I am. All I know is I’d love to be married one day to the right girl and maybe even have a little baby. A little daughter maybe. I think that’d be really nice.”

  “Really?” I say. “That’s so sweet, Henny.” I feel myself blushing. I sneak a peek at Josh—he’s sipping his drink, not saying a word—and my cheeks blaze even hotter.

  “What about you two?” Henn asks, and my stomach seizes—but when I glance at Henn, ready to deflect his question, he’s looking straight at Will and Carmen, not at Josh and me.

  Will and Carmen look at each other for a beat. “Um,” Carmen finally says. “Well, I’d love a family one day. But I think that’s a loooooong way off.”

  Will laughs. “Good answer.” He wipes his brow comically. “Phew.”

  I can’t bring myself to look at Josh right now and I’m not sure why. My skin feels electrified. “So what about you, Will? What does your future hold, ya think?” I ask, trying to deflect attention from my hot cheeks.

  “Oh, I can answer that,” Reed says. “Will’s gonna be a mega-superstar.” He holds up his drink and everyone follows suit. “A toast. To 2Real—the next big superstar.”

  “Hear, hear,” everyone says, clinking glasses.

  Carmen leans over and kisses Will on his cheek and he smiles.

  “My boy 2Real’s gonna be a household name, mark my words,” Reed continues.

  “Thanks, Reed.”

  “No need to thank me, man. I’m just telling it like it is. You’re a fucking genius.” Reed addresses the group. “After my party the other night, Will and Dean sat down with an acoustic guitar and started messing around, and within an hour, they’d written the bones for the most badass song you’ve ever heard in your life. The thing’s gonna be a smash hit.” He snaps his fingers. “And they wrote it just like that.”

  “It’s totally awesome,” Carmen agrees. “I can’t get it out of my head.”

  Will’s eyes are sparkling with sudden animation. “Dean and I totally hit it off—brothers from another mother. We’re planning to record it in L.A. next month after Red Card Riot’s tour ends.”

  “I bet we’ll wind up making it the lead single off your album,” Reed says. “It’s just that good.”

  “What’s it called?” I ask. “When I hear it on the radio a year from now, I wanna remember this conversation and say, ‘I knew him when.’”

  “We’ll probably call it ‘Crash,’” Will says. “It’s pretty dope, if I do say so myself. Best song I’ve ever written. I can’t wait to get into the studio and get it down—I’ve got a million ideas for the instrumentation. I’m gonna do something really unexpected with it.”

  Reed rubs his hands together. “I smell a hit.”

  The waiter arrives to clear dishes and bring refills on drinks.

  “What about you, Party Girl with a Hyphen?” Josh asks, breaking his long silence. “What do you see in your future?”

  “Um...” I say. Josh didn’t answer this question earlier, I noticed, so I’ll be damned if I will. Although, if I were being honest, I’d tell him I’m beginning to see a future that includes him. “Well, I’d really like to own my own PR firm one day,” I say, opting for a safe but true answer to the question.

  Josh looks completely floored by my answer. “Wow,” he says. “Really? That’s awesome. I had no idea. ‘Party Girl PR.’”

  “Hey, I like it,” I say.

  “Well, fingers crossed, maybe you’ll come into a million bucks one day soon and you can make that happen sooner than you ever imagined.” He winks.

  I grin broadly. Crazy as it sounds, I’d actually forgotten about the million bucks Jonas and Josh promised me if we’re actually successful in transferring The Club’s money tomorrow.

  “Oh yeah, speaking of PR,” Reed says, “thanks for all your hard work on the campaign for my club, Kat.” He laughs. “Impeccable work so far.”

  “Thanks for being my client,” I say. “Was it you who called my boss and charmed her pants off?”

  “Yeah, I called her,” Reed replies. “And I couldn’t have been more insistent we had to have you personally. But I just picked up the phone. It was Josh who paid the bill—he’s really the one to thank, not me.” He winks at Josh.

  I flash a huge smile at Josh. “Well, thank you both. I’m really grateful I’ve been able to hang out here all this time without losing my job.”

  “Anything for Josh,” Reed says. “I can’t even count all the favors this dude has done for me over the years. Josh Faraday might have douche-y tattoos and a midlife crisis car, and he might think he’s one hundred percent right about Happy Gilmore when he’s dead wrong, and he might—”

  “Okay,” Josh says emphatically. “I think she gets the point, Reed. I’m an idiot and a douche. Move on to the good stuff.”

  “But,” Reed continues. “Josh Faraday is the best friend a guy could ask for and one of the best humans you’ll ever meet.”

  “I’m not sure if I should kiss you or bitch slap you,” Josh says
.

  Reed puckers and Josh laughs.

  Quickly, Josh, Reed, and Henn launch into another snarky conversation about something or other—but I’ve stopped listening to them. I’m suddenly too busy gazing at Josh and thinking about how cute he is when he laughs with his friends. I’m thinking about how beautiful his blue eyes are, especially set off by the blue jacket he’s wearing and in the flickering candlelight of this swanky restaurant. I’m remembering the vulnerable look on Josh’s face when I opened my door to him last night, and how he melted into my arms without saying a word besides, “Kat.” I’m wondering how a man can suffer so much heartbreak in his life—his mom’s murder, his dad’s suicide, his brother being institutionalized, his heart getting broken—and yet still manage to laugh and joke around with his friends the way he’s doing right now, like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

  I’m thinking all these thoughts and a whole lot more as I stare at Josh in the candlelight and hold his hand in mine.

  I lean my head against his muscled shoulder and take a sip of my drink with my free hand and let out a long, relaxed, happy exhale.

  Yes, I’m thinking a thousand thoughts right now—and all of them about Joshua William Faraday.

  The table erupts in laughter again at something Henn just said. But I’m not listening to the conversation. I turn my face and take a long whiff of Josh’s cologne, and my crotch tingles.

  At my movement, Josh kisses the side of my head, even as he’s still engaged in conversation with the table, and my heart skips a beat.

  Holy shit.

  I want him.

  And with each passing day, each passing minute, I seem to want Josh more and more. I want to take him home to meet my family and watch football on the couch and eat my mom’s famous chili and watch my brothers make fun of him relentlessly for one thing or another. I want to make love to him in my apartment, slowly, for hours, and then drift off to sleep, and not wonder whether he’ll be there when I wake up in the morning. I want to see where he lives in L.A. and sit in the passenger seat of his car, whether it’s a Lamborghini or Hyundai, while he drives me to his favorite bar—whether it’s a dive bar or some hot spot—and I don’t want any other woman—any other blonde—to sit in that seat besides me.

  I squeeze Josh’s hand and he squeezes back.

  But feeling this way about any man, especially the world’s most eligible bachelor—a playboy who dates supermodels and celebrities (and who, by the way, clearly has a pervy-streak a mile long)—sure seems like an extremely precarious thing to do.

  Chapter 12

  Josh

  “Go, Henny! Go, Henny!” Kat chants, shaking her ass, and I laugh.

  As we make our way down the hallway to my room, Kat’s re-enacting the way Henn danced tonight on the dance floor at Reed’s club, and she’s doing an uncannily accurate impression.

  I join her in doing “The Henn” and she practically falls over, laughing.

  “Man, that white boy can dance,” she says.

  “Well, he thinks he can, anyway,” I say.

  “When it comes to dancing, isn’t that all that matters?” she counters.

  “No.” I laugh. “Not at all.”

  She laughs.

  “It’s Reed’s personal mission to get Henn to dance every time he sees him,” I say. “Reed says watching Henn dance is his own personal happy place.”

  “Well, yeah. Reed made that pretty clear,” Kat retorts. “‘Dance, puppet-boy, dance,’” she says, imitating what Reed said to Henn all night long. She giggles. “You three together are just like my brothers—I felt right at home. And Will sure fit right in with you guys as the fourth musketeer, didn’t he?”

  “Love that guy.”

  “He reminds me of my little brother Dax.”

  “I’d like to meet your brothers,” I say, and the minute I do, I want to stuff the words back into my mouth. Who just said that? Was that me? Dude. Saying you want to meet a girl’s family is not a casual thing. “Maybe some day,” I add.

  She bites her lip. “Sure. Some day.”

  We’ve arrived at my room. I swipe the key card and motion to her to enter first. Shit. My heart is racing. I’ve got to watch myself. Slow my shit down. It’s one thing to be feeling like this in Las Vegas, but her family’s in Seattle—in real life. Who knows what the future holds when we leave the bubble of this place?

  “Where should I put this?” she asks, holding up the duffel bag with her toothbrush and change of clothes we picked up from her room before coming to mine.

  “Well, in the bedroom, of course,” I say, grinning and she smiles broadly at me. I put her bag in my bedroom and come back out to the sitting area.

  “Something to drink, Party Girl?” I ask, moving to the bar.

  “Just water. I know I’m not living up to my nickname, but you’re absolutely killing me.”

  “Water it is,” I say, moving to the bar. “Your liver just sent you a thank you note.”

  “Gracias, señor.” She flops down on the couch in the sitting area. “So what were you and Will talking about on the way to Reed’s club—something about you helping Will’s dad with something?”

  “Oh, nothing major. I’m just gonna see if I can do Will’s dad a favor, make a few calls,” I say, grabbing water bottles from the minibar.

  “About what?”

  “It’s no big deal. He’s worried his dad is making some bad investments with a buddy—maybe even getting conned by someone he trusts. I’m gonna snoop around and see what I can find out for him.”

  “Wow. That’s nice of you. You seem to do a lot of favors for people,” she says.

  I push her blonde hair behind her shoulder. “Only for people I like a lot.” I bite her shoulder and she giggles in response.

  “Is that why Will got that ass-tattoo tonight—as payment for the favor you’re gonna do for his dad?”

  I laugh. “Hell no. He was just inspired by our deep and profound conversation at dinner to get the stupidest tattoo I’ve ever seen in my entire life, bar none.”

  She giggles again. “Why didn’t you join him? I thought Josh Faraday’s never seen a stupid tattoo he didn’t like. What happened to the barbed wire you were gonna get to complete your ‘social suicide’ trifecta?”

  “I chickened out. I guess even I’ve got my limits.” I shrug. “Or maybe I just wasn’t drunk enough.”

  “I swear I’ve never laughed so hard as when Will dropped his drawers right in front of all of us and got that ridiculous thing. He took the drunken tattoo to a whole new level tonight.”

  “Yeah, if getting a stupid tattoo is actually deep in a twisted sort of way, then 2Real is one incredibly profound motherfucker.” I chuckle. “I should sic Jonas on the guy and watch what happens.”

  Kat laughs. “I’m sure they’d totally hit it off.”

  “No, Jonas would quote Plato to Will all night long and poor Will would be like, ‘Um, can you bring back the dumb Faraday now? He was a lot more fun.’”

  “You’re not the dumb Faraday.”

  “Compared to Jonas, I sure as hell am. My brother is ridiculously brilliant—a whiz with numbers, amazing at solving puzzles, always thinking about something deep and meaningful, unlike me. And the boy’s got vision. My mom always called him magic.”

  Kat bites her lip. “You’re magic, too, Josh.”

  I blush. “Not like Jonas. Now, don’t get me started on what a complete and total dumbshit Jonas is about people and life in general,” I continue, “and especially about relationships—that’s a whole other story. The boy’s a fucking tool. But, man, Jonas—now there’s a magical beast of a dumbshit of a man.”

  She’s listening to me intently. Damn, she’s so fucking beautiful. I could sit and look at her all day, every day, and never get tired of her face. I put my fingertip over the slight cleft in her chin and she smiles shyly.

  “So enough about my idiot-genius brother,” I say softly. “Are you ever gonna tell me what you thought of my appl
ication? We haven’t been alone for two minutes since Henn woke us up and I’ve been dying to hear what you think.”

  She presses her lips together. “You wanna hear what I think, huh?”

  I nod, my stomach clenching.

  “Well, first off...” She looks up at the ceiling, apparently gathering her thoughts. “Well, first, let’s just get this out of the way: I don’t think you’re a sick fuck.” She smiles. “But if you are, then I don’t care.”

  I’m tingling all over. I thought she’d say that, based on the way she fell asleep in my arms after reading it last night, but it sure feels good to hear her say it out loud.

  “Well, okay, maybe you’re a teeny-tiny bit of a sick fuck,” she amends, “but I like that about you.”

  My cock stretches its arms and yawns inside my pants.

  “Secondly, I think that, whatever you did to those women in The Club for a month?” She levels me with her sparkling blue eyes. “I want you to do it to me, too—exactly the way you did it to them.”

  Oh shit. My cock just sat upright in bed and yelled, ‘Do I smell coffee?’”

  There’s a long beat as I process what she just said.

  She grins broadly. “I also think... as long as you’re gonna show me your fantasies, without holding back, then, maybe, if you’re willing... ” She takes a deep breath. “Maybe I could show you mine?” Again, she bites her lip. “Because I’m actually a bit of a sick fuck myself.”

  My cock is now doing jumping jacks on the floor next to its bed. “I’d love that,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “What are your fantasies? In your ‘application’, you mentioned a bodyguard fantasy and some sort of captive fantasy?”

  She nods. “Yeah. Actually, I think the captive fantasy might be pretty consistent with your saving-the-raped-girl fantasy. We might be able to do a two-for-one there.”

  I shift in my seat, trying to relieve the pressure on my cock. “Just tell me what you want and I’ll do it,” I say.

  She takes a deep breath. “Really? You want the whole thing?”

  I nod. “Of course. Tell me the whole damned thing.”