Rich S.O.B.: A Romantic Comedy

by Bijou Hunter

Frowning, I study his face. “I’m nervous about where this is going.”

  “We could head to the Weston.”

  “Is that where you fill the body of your not-prostitute?”

  “They wash the sheets.”

  “I’ll think of you with someone else the entire time we’re there. I can’t imagine that’ll turn out well for your manhood’s safety.”

  “I’m willing to take the chance if you’re more comfortable at the hotel than here.”

  Sighing, I sit on his bed, so my back is to the view. Asher joins me, but we don’t speak for a long time. I bet his manhood is no longer thick, hard, and ready.

  “Can we make this work?” I softly ask. “Our options are my place where you’re unhappy, your place where I’m unhappy-ish, and a hotel where you’ve made another woman happy. I don’t feel optimistic.”

  “I don’t care what we do as long as I’m with you.”

  My face feels stuck between a smile and a pout. “You say the words, but I know how much my place stressed you out.”

  Asher reclines on his bed and stares at the ceiling. “We could see my old psychiatrist. He’s supposed to be good at his job, though I don’t think he helped me any.”

  “So, we sit in an office and talk to a guy paid to act as if he cares.”

  “Basically, but I don’t know what else to do. If you want, I can double-up my anxiety medicine before I head to your place, but I really don’t like the pills.”

  “My choices are spreading my legs for you in this glass world, having you dope yourself up so you can tolerate my amazing apartment, or visiting a shrink.”

  “Those would be the options. I prefer the first one, but I’ve never seen you this nervous before. Your fear kills my arousal.”

  “Good to know.”

  “My shower has no windows,” he suggests and gives my right breast a quick caress.

  “I’m up for a handjob, but I’d also hope to receive personal enjoyment, and shower sex is not fun.”

  “We had fun in the shower before.”

  “That wasn’t penetration sex, though. Actual sex in a shower is awful.”

  “And you know that how?”

  “I read it somewhere.”

  Asher gives me his killer scowl, which only makes me smile. He’s delusional if he wants me to pretend I’m a skating virgin in her mid-twenties.

  Of course, the possessiveness is a distraction. We’ve hit a wall of glass to be specific. I hadn’t expected his home to be so… Asher. It’s cold, alluring, and unique. I want to be here, yet I’m terrified this place will swallow me up and spit me out onto the sidewalk below.

  I love Asher—oh, how I adore thinking those words—and giving up on him isn’t an option. I guess we’re seeing a shrink.

  CH 21

  ❁ Asher ❁

  Dr. Disher waits until we’ve settled into our separate seats before he looks up from his notes. He knows Junie’s on edge, and I’ve never enjoyed these visits. With no more walks down memory lane to share with him, we’re stuck listening to his suggestions.

  Junie assumes he’ll tell us to break up and never speak to each other or him again. I know he’ll offer reasonable solutions we’ll detest with every fiber of our stubborn beings.

  “You need to change if you want to make this relationship work.”

  “Duh,” Junie mutters.

  Disher ignores her tone and continues, “I’ve jotted down a few ideas, but before we begin with my suggestions, are you certain you’re willing to change for one another?”

  “Sure. I mean, I’ve already changed for Asher. I’m sitting in a shrink’s office, right?”

  “I’m also ready,” I say, smiling at an agitated Junie.

  Her irritation distracts from mine. In fact, I’m calmer than I’ve ever been in Disher’s office. Junie brings out the relaxed hippie in me.

  “Let’s start with something easy,” the doctor suggests. “Asher, you said the red walls at Junie’s apartment over-stimulated you. Is it possible for you to paint them something neutral, Junie?”

  “Why do I have to change first?” she whines and grips the chair’s arms.

  “Because you’re better adjusted than Asher.”

  “Well, that is true,” Junie says, sinking lower into the chair. “I want to make something clear. My hesitation about changing has nothing to do with how much I love Asher. I mean, I really do love him. It’s just I picked out everything in my places from the walls to the floors. Every inch of the apartment is a representation of me. So if I struggle to change, it’s because I haven’t had to change in a long time and I’ve only loved Asher for a short period of time.”

  “I understand,” Disher calmly states. “If you’re not ready to paint the walls, we can start with something smaller.”

  Junie glances at me and sighs dramatically. “What color is neutral enough? It’s not gray, right?”

  “How about white?” Disher suggests.

  “Lame.”

  “Is that a no?”

  Glancing at me, Junie exhales slowly. “No, it’s not a no. It’s a grudging agreement. I assume the rich S.O.B. will pay to have it painted since that isn’t cheap. I spent nearly two grand having it turned into my red wonderland.”

  “Of course,” I say, reaching for her hand.

  Junie looks at how I caress her palm and smiles reluctantly. “What does he have to give up? I might have to go first, but he has to agree to meet me halfway on some stuff.”

  “He will. In fact, I agree with you that the hotel suggestion is unacceptable. If you treat a relationship cheaply, you can’t expect it to last long.”

  “It’s a high-end hotel,” I point out.

  Disher cocks a pale eyebrow. “That’s not the point, Asher.”

  “Isn’t it, though?”

  “I’m a bad influence on him,” Junie says full of pride.

  “I see that, but I have a possible solution to your ‘hooking up’ situation. Asher, if I recall correctly, there is a guest apartment in your building. The one you once thought your parents could stay in rather than sleeping in your place.”

  “Yes, I still have it.”

  “Why not turn the apartment into your practice home with Junie? You can spend time there rather than at a hotel. Eventually, we’ll work on your issues with having Junie in your place or you visiting hers.”

  “So, this would be our hookup location?” Junie asks.

  “It’s a neutral location where you can spend time watching movies or cooking.”

  “I’m not cooking,” Junie instantly says.

  “Me either.”

  “Then whatever you’d do at a hotel besides have sex.”

  “We talked about coming here. Do we have to do that at the apartment?”

  Disher stares at Junie who stares back. I smile at how he doesn’t give into her nonsense and how she refuses to be intimidated by his older, educated maleness.

  “Is this apartment like your penthouse?” Junie asks me.

  “It’s more generically decorated.”

  “I don’t know what it means.”

  “Generic equals beige, which is why I figured my parents would like it.”

  “Can I bring things to make it more like my home? You know, like a pillow or blanket? A picture of my family or Couch Potato frowning at me? Stuff like that?”

  Disher frowns. “Are you asking me or Asher?”

  “Both.”

  “I’m only here to give suggestions. You two need to make the actual decisions.”

  “And to think some people don’t view shrinks as real doctors.”

  Disher smirks at her snooty comment, but Junie is more bothered about painting her apartment. I’m more aware than anyone at how much her home reflects her. I’d feel the same way if it was my place going through a paint job. However, those blood red walls keep me from visiting Junie despite my desire to see her constantly.

  As usual, the first step will be particularly painful.

  CH 22
/>
  ❁ Junie❁

  Mallory and I stand outside the doorway of my apartment, staring in where painters cover my furniture with protective plastic. Couch Potato is next door in Mallory’s place, trying to find a spot to sleep. I wish my mood was as easily sidetracked as my cat’s, but I’m depressed over losing a part of me.

  “We should leave them to work,” Mallory says, wanting to enjoy her day off rather than staring at my red walls turn white.

  After saying a silent farewell to the paint color I’ve loved for seven years, I follow Mallory down the short hallway to her apartment.

  CP camps out near the window while Mallory’s cat, Chastity, sleeps a few feet away from where I sit on the couch.

  “What would you give up for me?” Mallory asks, sitting next to me.

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re giving up your apartment’s coolness for Asher, so I’d like you to give up something big for me.”

  “This is just in theory, right?”

  “I don’t know,” she says, shrugging. “Hey, I want you to give up sandwiches for me.”

  I give her a nasty glare. “Why?”

  “That would prove your love.”

  “How are you affected by my eating sandwiches? The red walls make Asher squirrelly.”

  “Don’t distract from my question. If I asked you to give up sandwiches, would you do it to keep me in your life?”

  “Yes, I would give them up for you,” I say, accepting how I’m a pushover when it comes to those I love.

  “But you’d resent me for it, wouldn’t you?”

  “More than you’d ever know.”

  Mallory snorts. “I’d give up meat if you went vegan.”

  “Never going to be a problem.”

  “I’d still do it.”

  “You’re an honest to goodness saint.”

  “So very true,” she says, bumping my foot on the coffee table where we rest our feet. “I’m curious if you’ll resent Asher for needing you to paint your walls white?”

  “No. Well, maybe. Like if he won’t change things for me then I’ll be ticked off. Despite all my whining about having to paint, it’s a small thing if it’ll make him more comfortable.”

  “Isn’t it possible he’s incapable of having a normal relationship?”

  “Who says I want normal? Wouldn’t I have to change so much more to fit into a normal relationship than I will to fit with a very finicky Asher?”

  “You’re not wrong. I’ve always wondered how you planned to build a relationship with a man when you’re pretty particular yourself.”

  Sipping my coffee, I imagine Asher enjoying my no longer red apartment. Will changing the walls be enough? From the cabinets and tile floors to my couch and chairs, the place shouts BOLD when he prefers it to whisper calming phrases.

  “You know if this guy is really into you, he’ll pay for you to get new stuff that won’t freak him out. That means shopping.”

  “I like my stuff,” I grumble.

  “But think of the challenge. You’ll need to find eclectic stuff that fits his blah gray tastes mixed with fun colors you like. We had a lot of fun shopping for our apartments. Now we can get creative again.”

  “We?”

  “You can’t do it alone, and Asher doesn’t strike me as the shopping type.”

  Smiling, I try to imagine new accessories in the apartment. “The shrink wants us to decorate the guest apartment in a way that suits us both. If you help me, I can look at the entire thing as an adventure rather than a chore.”

  “Once you find things he likes, Asher will trust your judgment. Show him that you’re capable of compromise. From watching HGTV, I get the impression good relationships are based on negotiation.”

  “So, we’ll view this change as a quest,” I say.

  “Are you sure Asher doesn’t want to choose stuff?”

  “He can’t deal with that. Though possibly if we prove to him that my decorating taste doesn’t equal a crayon box explosion, he’ll want to help choose things in the future.”

  “I’ll keep you reined in if necessary.”

  Mallory’s never hidden her distrust of Asher or disinterest in my dating life. However, she just turned my bad mood into excitement over the upcoming changes. As if I needed a reminder of why she’s my best friend, today provided one.

  ‧:❉:‧ ♂ ♀ ‧:❉:‧

  ❁ Asher ❁

  No matter what Junie’s apartment looks like I plan to make a big deal out of the white walls. I owe her for trusting in me enough to take the first step—second if I count going to see Disher.

  A lot of women would do the same if they wanted my money. They’d deal with my crap to have what I have, but not necessarily to have me. Junie is the only woman I’ve ever met who would love me if I were to lose my money tomorrow. For that, I’ll applaud the white walls of her overpoweringly colorful apartment.

  Junie shuffles to the outer door looking as if she woke up very recently. Her hair is wavier than when she puts effort into styling it. I smile at her sleepy eyes and bedhead. Her old-world beauty hits me hard every time I see her.

  “Hello, sexy,” she mumbles once I enter the inner walkway. “Did you miss me?”

  Wrapping my arms around her, I wish I was the kind of guy to emote wildly about how much I love and miss her. Instead, all I say is, “I didn’t sleep at all last night. I need you if I want to relax.”

  Junie hints at a smile before lifting her lips to meet mine. She tastes like barbecue sauce, and I wonder if I interrupted her eating rather than sleeping. Or does she possess the talent to do both simultaneously?

  Once our lips part, she steps back and sizes me up. I know she’s nervous about my reaction to the apartment. What surprises me is how small—fragile even—she appears without her skates. A protective edge awakens in me when I look down at her wearing baggy gray shorts and a white T-shirt. She’s mine to guard against the world’s trials including my—at times—oppressive needs.

  “I’m sorry I needed you to paint your apartment.”

  “You remember that guilty feeling,” she says, patting my chest, “when I do something stupid or need something from you in the future.”

  “Deal. Can I see?” I ask, gesturing toward her apartment.

  Junie sighs dramatically and spins on her bare heel. I follow her into the apartment. I’m instantly struck by how different the apartment is without the red walls. The colorful décor has become mere tasteful flavoring in the now chic apartment.

  “I can’t believe how great it looks. Like something out of a magazine.”

  “Stop,” she mumbles and dips her head as if embarrassed. “You have to say nice stuff, now don’t you?”

  “Yes, and I planned on lying no matter what the apartment looked like, but I’m not lying now.”

  Junie shakes her head and smiles. “You’ll never be a good liar.”

  “I wish you lied as poorly.”

  “I’m sure you do.”

  Walking to her bedroom door, I mentally remark on how stylish her tastes are without the red walls to distract me.

  “I want something in return for painting the walls. The guest apartment is nice and all, but we’re both playing house in that situation.”

  “Tell me what you want, and I promise to agree.”

  “I wish I knew that earlier because I’d ask for something wilder. Instead, I’ll stick to my original request,” she says and inhales sharply. “Come to the Farmer’s Market with me.”

  “Why?” I ask, hiding how much I’d hate to spend time surrounded by people searching for food outside when they could easily find the same produce in a grocery store.

  “I want to prove I’ll protect you in situations that make you uncomfortable. The Farmer’s Market is crowded with people, but I can keep you safe.”

  “I don’t need you to protect me.”

  “You don’t want to go because it’ll stress you out. I can help you through the experience,” she says, hugging
me.

  “This is important to you.”

  “I look forward to a day when you and I can do something mundane without you worrying.”

  “I said I would agree, so I’m agreeing.”

  “Poor sweet baby,” she teases. “Mallory is coming along too, and it’s well past time for my two favorite people to meet.”

  Despite being a grown man, I give her a goofy smile at the thought of sharing the mantle of favored person with Mallory. After all, Junie doesn’t casually hand out spots in her heart, yet I now own a part.

  CH 23

  ❁ Asher ❁

  Junie is very proud of the heart she drew on her white skates. Inside, she wrote our names in the way a teenager would for a high school sweetheart. I ought to find the gesture silly, but she’s a difficult woman to claim. She doesn’t wear jewelry and won’t get a tattoo with my name prominently displayed. A heart on her skates will have to do.

  “I love you,” she says as we wait for Disher in his office. “What a lovely surprise to learn you’re a keeper.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much.”

  “You fucked me something fierce last night, Ferrer. My smiles are your reward.”

  Smirking, I reach for her hand and hold it tightly. She squeezes mine back, and a competition ensues. Who will free their pinched fingers first?

  Disher interrupts our competition, but Junie refuses to let go. Even grimacing at the pressure on her hand, she won’t relent. I’m no different, feeling as if letting go first proves I love her less than she loves me.

  “Is there a problem?” Disher asks when we don’t acknowledge him.

  Junie sighs. “On the count of three?”

  Nodding, I count down, and we release our hands at the same time.

  “Equality is good,” she murmurs and gives me a wink.

  Feeling ignored, Disher asks, “Were you able to paint the apartment?”

  “Yep, and he likes it, and I don’t hate it.”

  “Well, that’s great news.”

  Disher smiles as if he completely expected Junie to pitch a fit about the paint job. I think his impression of her is tainted by her distrust of his profession. She’s one of the most laid-back people I’ve ever met, but Disher hasn’t seen her mellow side until today.