Rumor Has It: A Bad Boy Romantic Comedy

by Lila Moore

  Then there was Luke. I thought he was just a fling, but he’d gotten under my skin. He’d betrayed me by believing my mother’s ludicrous story and yet, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I didn’t owe him loyalty, or anything really, but I couldn’t help having feelings for him. We shared a chemistry that led to the creation of life. We would be forever connected because of it.

  I stepped out of the bathroom and turned around slowly, letting Michael inspect my outfit.

  “Do you approve?” I asked.

  He leered at me, not with lust, but a critical eye. The look on his face made me want to punch him. He rubbed his chin. Michael was attempting-and failing-to grow a goatee. It made him look like a sleazy drug dealer. He nodded.

  “Much better.”

  “Where are you taking me tonight?”

  “That’s a surprise. After everything that’s happened, I thought you could use a night out on the town. My treat.”

  I smiled. I couldn’t help it. For all of Michael’s faults, he cared about me. No one else did. He wasn’t perfect, but he could change, right?

  “Your girlfriend won’t be there, will she?”

  Michael laughed. Dimples dented his cheeks. The sleazy look disappeared and was replaced with boyish charm. Suddenly the guy I fell for months ago reemerged.

  “Don’t be silly Gen. She’s not my girlfriend. We were just having fun. Kind of like you and that rich prick. It wasn’t serious. Just a fling.”

  I smiled weakly. Michael’s charm had a way of fading quickly. Still, I was grateful for a night out. No one’s ever taken care of me. I’ve always been on my own. It was nice to have someone to lean on.

  Michael is far from perfect, but he’s a known quantity. He’s never surprised me and I doubt he ever will.

  I wrapped my arm around his neck and hugged him. Michael pulled me to him, pressing his body against mine roughly. I swallowed hard. I really needed to accelerate my job hunt and get my own place. Michael was lucky enough to have parents who could afford to rent their son an apartment.

  I had no one.

  Reluctantly, I squeezed Michael back. In the past, I enjoyed his lean body. But now that I’d had a taste of Luke, Michael looked bony and weak in comparison. I pulled away from him with effort. He didn’t want to let me go.

  “Are you going to change clothes?” I asked. He was wearing baggy jeans and a flannel t-shirt.

  “No, why?”

  “Well, you said I needed to look nice…”

  He stared at me blankly.

  “I just assumed that meant you were taking me some place nice, and that you would dress up too.”

  He laughed. “I see. No,” he added flatly. “Men aren’t expected to dress up. The dress code is reserved for the ladies.”

  “Where are you taking me?”

  “You’ll see.”

  Luke

  Trent slid a whiskey on the rocks down the bar to me.

  “You need something stronger than beer,” he said.

  My head was already swimming with alcohol, but I didn’t care. I needed more. I wanted to drink until I reached oblivion. I threw back the whiskey and asked Trent to order me a second.

  “Take it easy, man. You need to loosen up, but I don’t want to have to carry your drunk ass out of the bar.”

  “If you’re going to be an asshole, leave,” I snapped.

  The mess I found myself in had nothing to do with Trent. He was just an easy punching bag.

  “I’m just trying to help.”

  “If you hadn’t told me to sleep with her,” I slurred, “none of this would have happened.”

  It was a lie. This was all my fault. I just wanted to take the blame out on someone else.

  “I take back what I said. You don’t need anything stronger than beer. How long have you been sitting here drinking?”

  I waved my hand dismissing his question.

  “Ten minutes,” I lied.

  The truth was I’d been throwing back beer after beer for closer to an hour. I wasn’t supposed to meet Trent here until ten. I’d purposely shown up an hour early so I could drink alone. Lately, I’d been avoiding Trent and focusing on work. I didn’t want to hear his advice, but I knew he’d give it to me anyway. It was only a matter of time.

  “And how many beers did you drink in the last ‘ten minutes’?”

  There was an edge to his voice that said: ‘I know you’re full of shit. You’ve been sitting here getting wasted all night.’

  “Do you disapprove, mother?”

  “Hey man, I’m not the enemy. I’m just trying to help.”

  “Go help someone else. Your ‘help’ makes things worse.”

  “If you recall, I told you to quote: ‘Hit it and quit it.’ Did I not tell you that when you stick your dick in crazy you reap the consequences?”

  “Genevieve’s not crazy.”

  “She was in a mental institution. I’d say that’s evidence against your argument.”

  “I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation why.”

  Trent laughed. I hadn’t meant it as a joke.

  “Look, for the record, I’m Team Genevieve. No one knows her crazy mother better than she does and if she thinks Val faked the whole pregnancy then threw herself off a balcony to manipulate you, then I believe her.”

  “She didn’t throw herself off a balcony. She fell down the stairs.”

  “Whatever, dude. The point is: you can’t trust Val.”

  “No, I can’t trust Val. The question is: can I trust Genevieve.”

  “I know you want to, but I don’t think so.”

  “You just said you believed her, that you were on her side.”

  “I do believe her-on this. I’m not sure I’d trust her on anything else. And I’m not on her side, I’m on your side, you idiot. Haven’t you been listening?”

  I raised my hand and tried to get the bartender’s attention, but he was talking to a busty blonde at the end of the bar. Trent grabbed my arm and pinned it to the bar.

  “You don’t need any more to drink,” he said.

  “Since when are you a Teetotaler?”

  “I’m not interested in watching you get blackout drunk. You won’t be able to enjoy the surprise I have for you.”

  “Oh God, what? I can’t handle any more surprises, Trent.”

  “This is a good surprise. Trust me. Have I ever led you astray?”

  Ten different instances of Trent leading me astray immediately popped into my head. Before I could list them, he grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me through the club.

  The Blu Lounge was a place I never imagined returning to, but when Trent insisted on meeting here, I didn’t argue. I’d agreed because the club reminded me of Genevieve. I remembered her sitting at the bar, sipping her nonalcoholic drink, looking excited and overwhelmed by her surroundings. We’d slept together for the first time in one of the club’s private rooms. It wasn’t the most romantic hook-up, but it was one of the hottest I’d ever had. Now Trent was leading me in the direction of that very same room.

  In my drunken state, I wasn’t sure what to think. For a fleeting moment, I thought Genevieve was in the room waiting for me. I quickly dismissed the idea. It made no sense. Trent had no contact with Genevieve and he didn’t think I should either. He would never set the two of us up.

  My phone vibrated in my pocket. I stopped in my tracks and pulled it out. Val was calling me for the sixth time today. I hit Ignore and stared at the screen. I’d written a thousand texts to send to Genevieve and discarded them all. I had no idea how to explain my feelings to her. I wasn’t sure I understood my feelings well enough to even articulate them.

  What I had to say felt bigger than a text, but I had no other way of getting in contact with her. I didn’t know her email address and according to Val, Genevieve had left home.

  “Who was that?” Trent asked.

  “Nobody. Where are you taking me?”

  “Your surprise awaits in the back.”

  �
�I don’t want a lap dance,” I protested.

  “Why not? Take a look around. You’re in a strip club.”

  I stopped to consider a topless girl carrying drinks. She passed in front of me; her tits brushed against my arms as she shimmied by. Her dark brown eyes fell on me and the corner of her mouth twisted into an inviting smile.

  I could follow her; she wanted me to. Before Genevieve, I would have. That’s what my life had been reduced to: before Genevieve and after Genevieve. Now, the idea of hooking up with a gorgeous stripper held no appeal. I wanted to return to the bar and drowned my sorrows in alcohol. I drunkenly stumbled away from Trent.

  “Hey, where are you going?” he called.

  I wanted to return to the bar, but in my drunken state I got turned around. I ended up in the far corner of the club. The back wall was lined with leather seats. Men-and a few women-received lap dances from gyrating girls.

  Bored, I considered them for a moment. A stripper whipped her fuchsia hair around like a windmill as she grinded against a man’s cock. He slapped the girl’s ass hard. That’s a no-no in the club. You’re supposed to keep your hands to yourself unless one of the girls places your hands on her.

  The fuchsia-haired girl’s face twisted with annoyance. “I’ve warned you,” she said.

  She jumped off his lap and motioned for the guard.

  “Hey!” the man protested. “Why are you acting so uptight? You’re a stripper, you should be used to being treated like a-”

  The security guard grabbed the tall, lanky asshole by the elbow and pulled him out of his seat. The stage lights fell on him. Michael. Genevieve’s ex-boyfriend. I’d recognize that smug, weasel-faced bastard anywhere. His eyes locked on me; his face lit up.

  “Hey!” he said to the security guard. “I wasn’t getting rough with the girls. That guy will vouch for me. Ask him!”

  He pointed in my direction. If he thought I was going to save him from being thrown out on his ass, he was sorely mistaken. I planned on finding a front row seat to his humiliation. I was going to enjoy this.

  That’s when it happened.

  Genevieve stepped into view. I saw her before she saw me. Her dark hair hung loose and wild around her. She wore smoke-y, sexy eye makeup. It made her look like the kind of girl who knew how to get what she wanted.

  For a startling second, I thought I was looking at a younger version of Val. The image quickly faded when Genevieve stepped closer. In spite of her sex-kitten makeup, her blue eyes were sad and glassy. She looked miserable. She stood off to the side watching as Michael argued with the bouncer. Were they here together?

  “Gigi, would you pay this man so he’ll let me go?” Michael demanded.

  The bouncer rolled his eyes. “That ain’t how this works, man. You disrespect the girls, you get thrown out. Simple as that,” he replied.

  So they were here together. Why would she run back to that loser? The only answer that made any sense was low self-esteem. Val had done her best to tear down what little self-worth Genevieve had. Now, her daughter was drawn to losers like Michael.

  “Are you just going to stand there gawking like an idiot?” Michael yelled at her.

  Something inside me snapped. I took a step towards him. He smiled foolishly. Michael seemed convinced that I was coming to his rescue. He couldn’t have been more wrong.

  Two steps and I was right in his face. I wasted no time. I balled my hand into a fist and hit him. I knocked the shit-eating grin off his face with one punch. He fell to the floor, cowering behind the bouncer.

  A second security guard ran over. He grabbed my arms pinning them behind my back. I didn’t fight him. I was through with Michael.

  “Out,” he shouted.

  He pushed me through the crowd past a wide-eyed Genevieve.

  “Meet me outside,” I shouted to her as I was dragged out of the club. She blinked and turned away. I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.

  The bouncer pushed me out into the club’s back alleyway. Michael was shoved out behind me. He tripped, falling on his face. When he stood, his pants were covered in wet slime from the leaking dumpster. I smiled at the sight of him: pathetic, filthy, and barely able to stand.

  He glared at me; his lower lip started to tremble like a little boy. Michael glanced over his shoulder at the bouncers. They were standing guard in front of the club’s entrance. He quickly turned back to me.

  “You want to fight, bitch? Let’s see what you got. You’re not going to sucker punch me this time. I’m going to make you wish you’d never met me.”

  Nervously, he again looked back at the bouncers. I knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted to provoke me in the hope I’d come at him. He was assuming the bouncers would step in and break us up. Michael thought he could talk shit to me, then hide behind the bouncers. He was wrong. Outside the club, the security guards don’t care what you do; it’s not their problem.

  I took a step towards Michael, prepared to beat the shit out of him. I stopped. Genevieve appeared at the exit to the club. She stood on her tiptoes, trying to see over the shoulders of the bouncers. I stopped in my tracks. Beating up Michael was not the way to get on her good side.

  “That’s what I thought,” Michael said. “Now that you don’t have the element of surprise on your side, you’re acting like a pussy.”

  I balled my hands into fists. I could destroy this rodent-faced prick in a heartbeat. Genevieve would be furious. Of course, she already hated me; I didn’t have anything to lose.

  “Wait!” she called. She pushed past the bouncers and jumped between us. “Don’t hurt him,” she said to me.

  Michael scoffed. “Babe, I was just about to teach this rich bitch a lesson. Step aside and let your man handle this.”

  Genevieve pushed Michael back. He stumbled, nearly falling on his ass. Genevieve’s a tiny girl, but I’m pretty sure she could kick Michael’s ass without assistance. Not that I would put her in that position. If he ever laid a hand on her, I’d kill him.

  “Get out of here,” she screamed.

  Now it’s my turn to smile smugly. Michael hadn’t counted on being rejected and publicly humiliated like this. Then with a sinking horror, I realized Genevieve was talking to me.

  “Just go. You’ll only make things worse.”

  “Gen…”

  I didn’t know what to say to make things right. I was aware of the fact that I was drunk and anything I said was going to sound like the ramblings of a drunk. Still, I wanted her to know how sorry I was.

  “I don’t know what the truth is anymore, but I want you to know I’m sorry. I’ve been a fool, an asshole, an idiot-”

  Genevieve didn’t interrupt me. Can’t say I blame her for agreeing with my assessment of my behavior.

  “I don’t deserve you. You’re beautif-beat-“ For some reason the word ‘beautiful,’ sounded hideous coming from me. I couldn’t even properly articulate it in my drunken state. “The point is: I’m sorry.”

  Genevieve clutched her stomach like she was going to be sick. “We need to talk,” she responded coolly. She sounded like a business client who’s trying to brace me for bad news. “But not here, and not like this,” she added. “You’re drunk. Go home and sleep it off.”

  I frowned. It was clear Genevieve didn’t think too highly of me at the moment, and who could blame her?

  “How can I reach you?” I asked, grabbing her elbow before she could run away.

  “I’ll get in touch with you.”

  She shook off my hand and turned to leave with Michael. She dragged him behind her pathetically. He wiped off his pants and glared at me with an expression, I suppose he believed would intimidate me. He looked like a big constipated baby. I can’t imagine a man feeling threatened by Michael.

  “Wait! Where are you staying?” I shouted.

  “She’s staying with me,” Michael responded as they slipped into the backseat of a taxi cab.

  They were gone before I could protest. I stood in the damp alley feel
ing a mixture of rage and disgust unlike any I’d ever felt before. Genevieve was sleeping with Michael. The image of that rat-faced bastard putting his hands on Genevieve’s body made me want to puke. How could she stand it? What kind of spell did he have on her?

  Without thinking, I started to follow the taxi down the street. It was long gone of course. The night couldn’t end like this. I needed to find Genevieve and convince her of how sorry I was, but how? She was staying with Michael. Where did he live? I only knew his first name. I’d need help finding his home address. There was no way I was letting Genevieve spend another night with that creep. I’d pay for a hotel or condo, whatever she wanted. As long as she didn’t stay with Michael.

  I turned back and headed to the club. Trent would know what to do. God help me, but I was putting my future with Genevieve in his hands.

  Genevieve

  “Can you believe he thought he could kick my ass?”

  I glanced at Michael. He stunk of garbage and something pungent, like cheap cologne. His lip was swollen and crusted with blood. His tongue snaked out of his mouth, touching the cut on his lip. He winced.

  “If he hadn’t sucker punched me, I would have kicked his ass.”

  I seriously doubted that, but I wasn’t going to argue. If not for Michael, I wouldn’t have a place to stay. I couldn’t risk angering him; he might kick me out.

  “Why did he hit you?” I asked.

  “He’s obviously jealous of me.”

  “Jealous of what?”

  I hadn’t meant to sound insulting, but it did. Luke led a life full of wealth, freedom and women. Michael’s life was the exact opposite. He’d never be that rich, handsome ladies’ man.

  Shame washed over me. Michael was helping me out and I was being mean and judgmental. So what if he wasn’t rich or hot? There’s more to life than looks, and money has brought nothing but trouble into my life.

  “Because I stole his girl. Guys like that can’t handle losing. He’ll just have to accept that the better man won.”

  I touched my stomach. Every hour that ticked by was a moment closer to me becoming a mother.

  “Why do you keep doing that?” Michael asked.

  “What?”