Win a Filthy Bad Boy: A Bad Boy Romance

by Lacy Carter

  Unlike other reality shows that used the same plot, Win a Filthy Bad Boy always had the same outcome: the bad boy’s nature would ruin his chances of winning the girl over.

  Bonnie never watched the show or even paid attention to the Mr. Steel phenomenon. Now both imposed themselves on her without her explicit permission and the results would be nothing short of life changing.

  The Mr. Steel phenomenon was unlike any that had occurred before. In 2015, Mr. Steel was voted the sexiest man alive and since that time, he was interviewed on Jimmy Kimmel Live! and Larry King Live.

  Even before he was picked as the sexiest man on the planet, Mr. Steel’s steady ascension into the mainstream was aided by word-of-mouth and the Internet. Unintentionally, Chad created hairstyle, clothing, and behavioral trends. Guys even tried to imitate his blasé attitude.

  A week passed since Bonnie found out that she had won a filthy bad boy, and since that time, she threw herself into researching as much as possible about Chad DeMarco. Between this and taking constant calls from Jill and the producers of the show, Bonnie couldn't get much done on her blog.

  Later that afternoon, her cell rang.

  “Yes, Jill?” Bonnie said, as she answered.

  “Hey, what's going on?” Jill sounded excited.

  “You tell me. I'm about to pour myself a glass of wine,” Bonnie said, walking to the kitchen.

  “Save it. Why didn't you tell me?” Jill asked, sounding somewhat annoyed.

  “Tell you what? If you're talking about the show, you've called about five times in the past few hours. I think I've told you everything,” Bonnie said, holding the phone between her neck and shoulder as she unscrewed the wine.

  “The party tonight; were you trying to go without me? I can't believe you Bon,” Jill said.

  “Wait… party, what party?” Bonnie asked, feeling her chest tighten with a rising angst. The idea that she had forgotten something lingered in back of her mind.

  “You're going to a celebrity party courtesy of Victory Studios,” Jill said.

  “Oh shit,” Bonnie said, rolling her eyes. She had forgotten to decline the invitation. “I forgot all about it.”

  “Shut up!”

  “I did, honest. But that doesn't matter because I wasn’t going anyway,” Bonnie said. She put the bottle of wine aside and leaned against the kitchen counter.

  “Too late to try and play the martyr now. You're already semi-famous, so get dressed,” Jill said.

  “How did you even find out?” Bonnie asked, finding it impossible to match Jill’s enthusiasm.

  “Johnny told me that you mentioned it in passing. But I never dreamed you would forget. I’m falling to conceive how you forgot about such a big event. You're still not into Chad DeMarco? Haven't you seen the pictures that I sent you?”

  Bonnie had deleted Chad’s naked pictures from her phone, but not before she had a minor masturbation marathon that left her filled with shame and guilt. She hated him, but couldn't help how her body responded to him.

  She wondered how on earth Jill acquired the photos, though was afraid to ask, fearing the answer would lead to a collection of Chad’s images in her hard drive. She would find herself obsessing over Chad if she weren't careful; she needed to stay busy and to stick to the professional assignment as closely as possible.

  “Jill, I deleted the pictures,” Bonnie said, which was a complete lie.

  "What a shame. Now clothes on. Body out. I'll be outside your apartment in two hours, so don't leave me waiting.”

  ***

  “I don't believe how many women are taken in by him. I mean, he is totally obnoxious,” Bonnie said, sucking on her straw. Hip-hop music blared its heavy bass beats.

  “And how would you know that when you haven't even met him?” Jill asked.

  Bonnie and Jill sat in the club. Earlier, a limo, courtesy of Victory Studios pulled up outside of Bonnie’s apartment to take her to HC Lounge, a nightclub located near Union Square in Manhattan. It catered to an upscale clientele, attracting nothing but investment bankers, models, and A-list stars.

  "I guessed," Bonnie said, suddenly feeling the need to bring the subject to a close. “This place is fancy.”

  “Yeah, they are really dropping money on you. I wonder if they paid Mr. Steel to appear on the show?”

  “I don't know. I haven't looked into it yet,” Bonnie said, noticing a clean shaven man in a ridiculously expensive looking suit who hadn’t stopped staring at Jill from the moment they walked in. He had coifed dark hair and broad shoulders.

  Bonnie and Jill sat in the booth at the corner of the room. Their host, a man named Richie, brought them free drinks and introduced them to executives, owners of networks, and a few celebrities.

  “Look! I swear that's Leonardo DiCaprio!” Jill said.

  “Oh, where?” Bonnie said, straining to see. She saw the actor enter a booth with a woman. Bonnie turned and saw the man in the business suit was still eyeing Jill. Bonnie poked Jill. “You’ve got an admirer,” Bonnie said in a whisper. Jill finally caught sight of the man in the business suit. His eyes feasted on her.

  “Oh,” she said. “He's hot.” She turned to Bonnie. “He can't be looking at me.”

  “Of course he can,” Bonnie said with a laugh. “He hasn't taken his eyes off you from the moment you walked in here.”

  Jill sucked on her straw and stared back at her admirer.

  "I'm going to the bathroom,” Bonnie said, preparing to stand. Jill pulled her back down. “Jill, what—”

  “Don't leave me,” Jill said, wide eyed. “What if he decides to come over?”

  “Jill, you'll be fine. I won't be long, okay?” Bonnie playfully pinched Jill’s cheeks, before standing. She made her way through the sea of faces to where she saw the ladies’ restroom sign.

  Chad had yet to appear. For reasons she didn’t understood, that annoyed her. As she waded through the sea of bodies, she never intended to seek him out, but probing for his face among the crowd of people was almost a reflex.

  As she was about to push open the bathroom door, someone grabbed her shoulder.

  “Hey,” said a voice above the thud of the loud bass.

  It's him.

  Bonnie turned to see the last person she expected to find. “Henry?” she responded, incredulous. As if the night couldn't get any better, her ex stood in front of her with a stern look on his face.

  “What are you doing here, Bonnie?” he asked.

  Bonnie gritted her teeth; she didn't like his scolding tone. Bonnie could tell by his flushed appearance that he was drunk.

  “I was invited. And you?” Bonnie asked, folding her arms.

  Henry was formally dressed, in a gray suit that hugged his shoulders. He still looked handsome.

  “Anya knows the promoter, so we managed to get in for free,” he said. “So how you holding up? Manage to get that Stephanie story yet?”

  Bonnie considered Anya a friend before she found out she was sleeping with Henry.

  “I'll be working on it soon,” Bonnie said. She didn't want to tell him about the reality TV show.

  “Aww, you keep at it,” he said, patronizingly, patting Bonnie on the shoulder.

  Bonnie pursed her lips. What she ever saw in him was a mystery. After he cheated, Jill said he was a total dick and not worth another second of her time, back then Bonnie actually defended him. Now, however, she had a sense of total clarity. In their relationship, one part of her justified his manipulative treatment because she wanted to be loved and cherished. The other part of her outright ignored his neglect.

  “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I have better things to do than—” Bonnie started to say before Henry cut her off.

  “Maybe we can catch up and go for a coffee one day?” Henry inched closer, his eyes trailing Bonnie’s body. “You still look beautiful. What do you think?”

  She barely had time to process what he was asking, before he jerked away from her. His demeanor shifted, he took a few steps back, and wav
ed to a woman skirting her way around a group of people. Bonnie's attention roamed past Henry, to the advancing woman. Anya.

  “Well as I live and breathe, if it isn't Bonnie,” Anya said as she immediately clung to Henry's arm.

  “Anya,” Bonnie said, trying to calm the anger brewing inside her, as she let a scowl form.

  “How are you holding up?” Anya asked, her nasal voice sounding amused.

  Anya wore a stunning red close-fitting dress that she must have gone through some trouble to squeeze into, as it fitted perfectly around her slender figure. Once Bonnie’s close friend since college, they stayed up at night in their dorms watching movies, eating popcorn, and chatting. Bonnie supported her through a tough break up, when it turned out the guy she was seeing cheated on her. And now, more than one year after helping Anya overcome betrayal, Bonnie found herself a victim of the same betrayal.

  Henry was blinking double time, evidently, crapping bricks. Bonnie would have enjoyed watching him squirm, had the sight of Anya holding onto him not felt like a punch in the chest.

  Bonnie said, “Well, I’ve had just about enough of…”

  “It's my birthday today; don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?” Anya said. She cocked her head and added, “Bruce, the promoter is giving me the VIP treatment. If you're lucky, I can introduce you. He knows a lot of celebrities; it might help your career.” She touched Bonnie's arm, smiling gleefully, obviously expecting an argument and waiting to combat it.

  Bonnie wanted to slap Anya hard across the face, but she wasn't going to give her the satisfaction. Instead, she turned and rushed into the restroom. She could just hear Anya laughing hysterically behind her as she ran off.

  Bounding directly into the bathroom, the sight of an open stall felt like an immediate godsend. She locked the door and leaned against it. Feeling so alone and angry, she groaned, annoyed at how she’d given them the satisfaction of seeing her weak.

  When she found out Henry was cheating on her, she ended things with him pretty quickly. It was no big loss. True, Henry had a great jawline, impeccable hair, and a great fashion sense, but aside from those superficial qualities, he never had much else to his personality.

  Anya was tall and beautiful with a good figure. She could eat whatever she liked and never seemed to struggle to keep the pounds off. Her father was a wealthy venture capitalist who gave her everything she wanted. Guys fell head over heels for her. Bonnie often wondered what Anya got from ruining her relationship, when she could have had any guy she wanted.

  “You’re a total asshole, Anya!” Bonnie shouted to the empty restroom. Holding her fingers on her temples, she appeared to be fighting off a migraine, when in fact, she was fighting back tears.

  She staggered out of the stall, the need to pee having suddenly left her. Now, all she wanted was to be done with this night.

  Leaving the restroom, she was relieved to find Henry and Anya were not waiting outside. As she looked anxiously around for Jill, her bag vibrated with the chime of a text, barely audible over the thudding bass. She took out her phone, swiped her fingers across the screen and saw Jill’s message. It read that she was going for a drive with Dean. Bonnie assumed by Dean, she was referring to the guy in the business suit.

  “Jeez Jill, again?” Bonnie asked herself. Jill disappearing with random guys was turning into something of a habit, an irresponsible, careless, and dangerous habit. She reminded herself to speak to Jill about it tomorrow.

  “Maybe this'll put a smile on your face,” Richie said, passing her a drink. “He's bound to show up soon. One thing about Chad, he knows how to make an entrance.”

  Bonnie took a cautious sip of her drink. “I'm not looking for him,” she shouted above the loud bass.

  “What?” Richie said, putting a hand behind his ear and leaning in to her.

  “I said…” But Bonnie stopped, suddenly aware of Richie’s change in demeanor. He turned toward the entrance of the club where there was a sudden commotion.

  Because in walked Chad.

  Bonnie's stomach somersaulted. She hadn't seen him since the night he knocked her picture off the wall. And instantly, she hated his guts all over again. Chad walked in like he owned the place. A god in his own right.

  People flocked to him as if he were the biggest star in the room. Even Richie rushed over to him. Bonnie thought it was a good time to take a seat, partly because the entrance was blocked, and she wasn't getting out that way. But for the most part, it was because of a sudden change in her physicality; her legs… they were shaking. Some unknown force had taken over her body and decided she didn’t need to be standing any longer.

  Bonnie observed that most of the playboys in the club who tried to buddy up to Chad wore similar hairstyles and matching outfits; they resembled him down to the five o'clock shadow. It appeared Jill wasn't the only one who stalked Mr. Steel’s Instagram. Celebrities and fans alike all rattled off questions at him.

  Bonnie couldn't bear it any longer, She couldn't stand the sight of someone like Chad getting so much attention. She pulled out her cellphone, and there was a message from Jill. It read:

  Dean knows Chad!

  Bonnie lifted her head in time to glimpse Henry stutter-stepping his way toward her. She frowned and looked away. She had exactly zero desire whatsoever to speak with her ex-boyfriend.

  Bonnie's palms grew sweaty and her heart began to pound like a sledgehammer, when a shadow descended on her. Peering up, she gasped. Bonnie stared into the eyes of the man who she had slept with that night.

  Chad DeMarco.

  “You're late,” she said. They were the only two in the club; everyone and everything swam away in a blur of rising heat.

  "Are you always this friendly to your boyfriends?”

  “You're not my boyfriend,” Bonnie said. “Don't flatter yourself.”

  “I gave you an orgasm, didn't I?” he said. “Must count for something.”

  That fucking dick, Bonnie thought. He was a real piece of work, a man-whore, and she was just another victim of his arrogant behavior.

  “To everyone else, you’re this panty-melting sex god. Well, not to me.” Bonnie, knew her words were a lie; all she could think about since that night was him. The heat of him inside her—pleasure and pain, lust and fulfilment, hard and soft—made her cunt writhe in anticipation of their next session. She had no way of telling her body that Chad was a one-time deal.

  “You didn't like it?” he asked, a smirk spread across his kissable lips.

  “You never told me you were an escort…” Bonnie said. No one ever made her feel the way he had—needed, sexy, powerful.

  “You haven't answered my question,” he responded.

  Bonnie’s face was searing hot. She wanted to liquefy and sink in a puddle of humiliation. She couldn't tear her eyes away from him. Although her mind went blank, Bonnie opened her mouth to respond, when she was cut off by Richie.

  “Mr. Steel. Your VIP booth is waiting, sir. Whatever you need, beers on tap, free drinks all night, and the owner has sent you a bottle of Armand de Brignac Brut Rose Champagne, our finest bottle,” Richie said.

  Bonnie sighed as the tension between her and Chad evaporated.

  Richie continued, “…and a few models will be joining you and—”

  “Ditch the models,” Chad said. “I only want her.”

  “Excuse me, sir?” Richie asked, as if he couldn't believe his ears.

  Bonnie looked up at Chad, startled. His eyes never left her.

  No sooner had Chad spoken when things went from bad to worse. A screeching laugh snatched Bonnie’s attention.

  “Chad? Chad DeMarco?” Anya shouted as she wobbled towards him. Henry followed, sheepishly, behind.

  “Hey,” Chad said. He couldn't have looked more uninterested if he tried. This didn’t seemed to deter Anya in the slightest.

  “I'm sixty-two on your waiting list,” she said. “I've wanted to meet you for so long.”

  “Nice to meet you…” Chad said, exten
ding a hand.

  “Oh, silly me, I'm Anya Husserl,” she said, giggling. “When I saw on your Instagram that you were coming here, I just had to meet you.”

  Bonnie watched on, from where she sat, and it looked like a car crash happening in slow motion. Henry looked to the floor and balled his fists, Anya seemed about to throw herself at Chad, while Chad’s body language indicated he wasn't interested. Chad wanted out, and seeing Henry, he thought he spotted his opportunity.

  “Hey, isn't that your boyfriend?” Chad asked, pointing a thumb at Henry.