His Wasted Heart

  She goes completely still, to the point that I worry she’s passed out or something.

  “Jens?”

  Nothing.

  I shake her shoulders. “Jensen.”

  “Yeah?” Her voice is small. So small. She doesn’t sound right.

  What’s wrong with her? It’s like I ask that particular question, and she’s having a quiet freak out.

  “Are you okay?” I ask.

  “Um…” She rubs her cheek against my chest, and I wonder if she’s stalling for time. “Yeah. I’m just…really tired.”

  I kiss her forehead, trying to be understanding. I don’t want to talk about all of this either. It feels too heavy, too difficult. Our bad dreams are revealing our fears, and I don’t feel like analyzing them any longer. “Go to sleep,” I tell her.

  “Okay.”

  Her weird reaction stays with me for the rest of the night.

  Even in my dreams.

  Chad is grinning at me when I enter the kitchen the next morning. Like full-on beaming so hard, it’s like I can see every single tooth in his head.

  “Mornin’,” I mumble as I shuffle my way over to the coffeemaker. I’m exhausted. My head is pounding from lack of sleep and I’m desperate for a shot of caffeine straight to the bloodstream.

  “Good morning, you lucky motherfucker.” He chuckles, and it’s too early to deal with his shit, so I ignore him and pour myself a cup of coffee instead. I sit next to him at the kitchen counter and start scrolling through my phone, hoping he won’t talk to me.

  “Where’s your waitress?” he asks nonchalantly.

  My hopes evaporate just like that.

  “Why do you care?” She’s currently still asleep in my bed, looking like a goddess. Seeing her naked body when I first crack open my eyes in the morning is how I want to wake up all the time, if I had my choice. I wanted to wake her up with my morning erection, but she was out, completely unresponsive to my insistent whispers. But at least she was breathing, so that’s a positive.

  “Maybe I want to give you two shit for keeping me awake with your constant moaning and groaning and your headboard banging against the wall.” Chad starts laughing and holds out his hand like he wants me to high-five him.

  I scowl at him instead, and he drops his hand, his laughter dying. “Come on, bro. I’m just giving you a hard time.”

  “It’s not funny,” I mutter as I sip from my cup. I stare straight ahead, silently willing him to remain quiet.

  But he can’t. Chad’s biggest problem is that he never knows when to shut up.

  “How did you two hook up again anyway? Have you been sneaking her into the house when I’m not around?”

  Yes.

  “I kept hearing her moan your name,” he continues. “She must really like your dick.”

  I ignore his crude remarks. “Are you spying on us, Chad?”

  “I can’t help but hear everything when the house is quiet and our walls are thin. You two really went at it.” Chad shakes his head, that goofy smile still on his face. “Props to you, brother. She must have a magic pussy.”

  “Don’t talk about her like that,” I snap.

  “Aw, why? You actually like the topless waitress?”

  I smack the back of his head, making him yelp. “Don’t disrespect her.”

  Chad sends me an incredulous look. “Come on, are you serious? Don’t tell me you actually care about the waitress.”

  “She has a name,” I say through clenched teeth.

  He raises his brows. “What is it then?”

  “Jensen.”

  “Huh. Fancy rich name for a girl who works at a strip club. Bet you twenty bucks it’s made up.” Chad slides off his stool before I get a chance to grab him by the collar and sock him in the mouth. “I gotta go. Class starts in less than fifteen minutes and I’m gonna be late. Catch ya later.”

  I say nothing as he exits the kitchen and heads outside. My mind is too busy contemplating the idea that maybe…

  No. Her name is not made up. Why would she do that?

  Strippers make up names all the time. So do prostitutes. They don’t want anyone to know their true identity.

  Jensen has told me enough to clue me in on her identity. She’s made some admissions.

  Casual ones.

  Ones that, if I’m being honest with myself, don’t amount to much.

  My phone buzzes with a notification. A text from Park. Shit.

  Meet me for lunch today at one.

  I do not want to see my brother today.

  We need to talk.

  Growling in frustration, I send him a reply. I have class at two.

  Then let’s meet at 12:30. What’s that café by campus called? The one Mom used to take us to when we were kids?

  Chick’s Café.

  Yeah. Don’t want to go there either. It’s full of good memories from when we were little, when Mom still wanted to hang out on campus and pretend she was young and carefree. She actually told us that once, right before she gave birth to Addie. It was the last time we went there as a family, minus our dad. But a lot of my memories from early childhood don’t involve our dad. He was too busy working.

  I’ve gone to the café a couple of times since I starting going to college, but mostly for takeout during lunch. I took a girl there once on a date, but we didn’t last long beyond that.

  My phone buzzes again. 12:30 at Chick’s. Okay?

  Okay, I answer before dropping my phone onto the granite counter with a loud clatter. I don’t want to talk to Park, I don’t want to make nice or listen to him go on about him and Diane and his twisted reasons for having an affair with Dad’s wife. He can’t rationalize his actions to me, no matter how hard he might try.

  “Hey.”

  I turn to find Jensen padding into the kitchen, wearing an old black hoodie sweatshirt of mine and nothing else. Her feet are bare on the cold tile floor, and her legs look endless. Her hair is a mess and there’s black smudges under her sleepy eyes, and I’m tempted to grab hold of her and drag her back to my bedroom so I can keep her naked and in my bed all day.

  But I have classes to go to and my brother to meet, so there’s no time for any of that.

  “Good morning,” I tell her, rising to my feet. “You want coffee?”

  “Please,” she says with a nod, and I go to pour her a cup. She follows after me, grabbing the creamer and dumping a bunch of it in her coffee before she grabs the nearby spoon and gives it a quick stir.

  “Is that even coffee?” I ask her as she walks over to the counter and settles her cute butt on the stool Chad just vacated. “With all the creamer you just poured in it?”

  She shrugs and takes a sip. “This is the way I like it.”

  Noted.

  “You have any classes today?” I ask.

  “Yeah, just one. You have a couple, right?”

  “How do you know?” We’ve not really shared our school schedules with each other. At least, I don’t think I have. And after what Chad said about her name, I’m feeling suspicious. Just when I think things are cool between us, someone has to go and say something to freak me out and screw it all up.

  “You’ve, uh, mentioned it to me before. How Thursdays are busy for you, with class and practice.” She smiles.

  I don’t remember ever telling her that. But maybe the constant sex is literally burning brain cells. I don’t know. Though I do remember some things. Like, “I have a game tonight. You should come watch me.”

  Her face falls in disappointment. “I wish I could, but I have to work.”

  The reminder that she has to work at the strip club sucks. It both depresses me and makes me angry. “You’re going to try and switch shifts so you can go to Addie’s party on Saturday night, right?”

  “I’m going to try.”

  So tempted to tell her trying isn’t good enough, but that sounds like something my father would say and I’m not going down that road. “Addie will be really disappointed if you can’t go.”

&
nbsp; Irritation fills her eyes. “Are you purposely trying to make me feel guilty?”

  “No.” Yes.

  “Well, you are. I need this job, Rhett. I know you don’t approve, but I have to make money to live.”

  “Can’t you find another job?”

  “I don’t want to,” she stresses, her eyes flashing. “I make a lot of money at the club. The tips make the long hours on my feet worth it.”

  Of course her tips are good. She’s flashing her fucking tits at everyone all damn night. “But don’t you find it—degrading, walking around the club for hours, serving drinks with no shirt on?”

  “No, not really. And I’m not ashamed of my body, if that’s what you’re asking,” she retorts.

  “You shouldn’t be ashamed of your body. You have an amazing body. I just don’t like the idea of a bunch of perverts getting to see it. It’s the job itself that’s…shameful. The location. You know what I mean?” I can tell Jensen’s getting pissed. I’m making a mess of this, and that’s the last thing I want to do.

  “So what you’re telling me is that you’re the one with the problem, not me.” She stands, and starts pacing the kitchen. “You’re ashamed of where I work, aren’t you?”

  “It’s not something I want to tell my family,” I admit, feeling like a douche.

  But come on. What guy wants to admit the girl he’s seeing works at a strip club? She doesn’t strip, but she might as well…

  “Why not?”

  “You know why not. It sounds bad, you working at a strip club. You don’t wear any clothes while you’re working,” I remind her.

  “I’m topless. Big deal.” She shrugs, looking extra small wearing my hoodie. Extra vulnerable, though there’s fire in her eyes as she glares at me. “There are lots of topless beaches, you know. Being topless is the most natural thing in the world.”

  “Yeah, well, not to me. Did you know Park kept telling me last night he thought you were awfully familiar? He swore he’d seen you somewhere before.”

  Her eyes go wide and she drops her hands to her sides. “Do you think he’s seen me at City Lights?”

  “Maybe.” Probably. “I told him you cleaned offices at night when he asked me if you worked anywhere.”

  “So you lied for me.”

  “I didn’t want to tell him you worked at City Lights. I would’ve never heard the end of it,” I explain, but she’s already halfway out of the kitchen by the time I finish speaking. I chase after her. “What’s wrong?”

  “You’re just proving my point,” she calls as she heads for my bedroom. “You’re totally ashamed of me.”

  “Not you, Jensen.” I grab her hand, stopping her in the hallway. “Your job. I’m not telling my family you work there.”

  She jerks her arm out of my grip and enters my room, shedding the hoodie as she walks, leaving her completely naked. “If you don’t have the balls to tell them, Rhett, then that’s on you.”

  I lean against the doorjamb and watch as she yanks on her panties and then pulls her sweater dress back on. She doesn’t even bother with the bra, and I can see her hard nipples through the fabric of her dress. Fuck me, she looks sexy as hell, her eyes blazing with anger, her cheeks flushed.

  But if I try to touch her right now, she’d probably do something crazy, like try to hurt me. She looks that angry.

  “Where are you going?” I ask as she shoves her bra in her purse.

  “I’m leaving. I can’t be with you if you’re too ashamed of me and what I do.”

  My mouth drops open in surprise and I enter the room, stopping directly in front of her. “Are you serious?”

  She grabs an elastic out of her bag and gathers her hair in one hand, pulling it into a messy topknot. “I’m dead serious. Clearly this is an issue for you. And this is me. This is what I do, this is who I am.”

  “Your job doesn’t define you,” I start, but she cuts me off with a look.

  “Right now it does. Savannah is my best friend. My only friend. And she works there too. She’s not ashamed of what she does, and neither am I. I don’t want to—to spend time with you, Rhett, and always worry that you’re judging me over my job. I’ll always feel like a disappointment to you, and I’ve put up with enough of that in my life. I refuse to ever let it happen again,” she explains as she slips on her shoes. She grabs her purse, slings it over her shoulder and proceeds to walk straight out of my bedroom.

  I step out of the way to let her pass by. “So you’re really leaving.”

  “Yes,” she says over her shoulder as she marches toward the front door.

  “How are you getting home?”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  I follow after her. “I don’t judge you, Jens. You’re not a disappointment to me.”

  She whirls around, thrusting her index finger in my face. “Don’t lie, Rhett. It’s not a good look for you.”

  And with that, she turns, opens the door, and leaves.

  I show up early to the café, and of course my brother is nowhere to be seen. The waitress seats me at a booth in the very back of the restaurant, and she asks how my day is going and if I’d like something to drink.

  I can’t tell her truth, that so far my day has been total shit. First, my somewhat girlfriend walks out on me after a stupid fight, and now I have to meet my douchebag older brother for lunch so he can fill me in on all the lurid details about his affair with our bitchy stepmom.

  Yeah. It’s a bullshit day. But I smile at her and tell her that so far, my day is going great, and could I get a glass of iced tea, please?

  She leaves me with a menu and I check my phone, almost hoping Park won’t show up. But I couldn’t be that lucky, because yep, there he is. I watch him as he enters the café, smiling broadly at our waitress, examining her up and down as he follows her to the table.

  “How’s it going?” Park asks once he’s seated and the server has left.

  I keep my gaze focused on the menu, unsure of what to say to him yet.

  “You going to be pissed at me forever?”

  I glance up to find Park watching me, his eyes filled with amusement. The asshole. There’s nothing about this situation that I find even remotely funny. He flips open his menu, though he’s not looking at it. “I should be,” I tell him. “What you’re doing is fucked up.”

  Sighing, he closes the menu and rests his clasped hands on top of it. “He cheats on her too, you know.”

  “So that makes it okay?” I shake my head in disbelief. “That’s some fucked up logic you’ve got there.”

  “You’re right. But let me explain everything first before you’re so quick to judge,” Park throws back at me.

  Second time I’ve been called out for being too judgmental today. I never thought I was, but maybe I am. Maybe I’m a complete asshole, and worse? I don’t even realize it.

  “Okay. Explain,” I tell him, leaning back against the booth seat.

  The server arrives with our drinks and we both order sandwiches, sending her on her way quickly. I’m impatient and it’s like he is too. I know I shouldn’t want to hear how this whole mess started, but, I’m curious. I want to understand how he could do something so messed up.

  “It started about five years ago—”

  I interrupt him. “Five years? You’ve been having sex with Diane for five years?”

  “Shhh.” He glances around to make sure no one is paying attention. “Off and on, yeah. I have.”

  “Holy shit.” I rub my hand over my face, my mind having a difficult time wrapping itself around this revelation. “That’s insane.”

  “If you’d stop interrupting me, I could tell you more,” he says irritably.

  “Fine, sorry,” I mutter.

  “She’s been pretty flirtatious with us ever since we graduated high school. Did you ever notice that?”

  The summer after my senior year I was swimming in the pool alone at night, and when I came out she touched my shoulder and told me I’d grown up extra
big and strong, her tone appreciative, her eyes full of interest.

  It totally skeeved me out, and I did my best to banish that memory from my brain.

  “Yeah, I noticed.”

  “Right, well, I started to play along with it after a while. She flirted, I flirted back. She’d touch me, I would touch her back. One night we stay up late, just the two of us in the family room, watching a movie. By then I was almost done with college, and I was home for spring break, wanting to spend time with you guys. But you went out with your friends, and Addie was in bed because it was a school night, and Dad was on a business trip.” He pauses, takes a sip of his beer, and all I can do is watch him.

  “And next thing I know, she’s touching my dick. She reaches inside my shorts, pulls it out, goes to her knees and gives me a blowjob, right there in the family room.”

  I’d shove that bitch off me so fast if she tried something like that. I know I would.

  “Nothing happened for a long time after that. At least another year, maybe almost two. Until the time I stayed in the guesthouse when we were in Maui for Thanksgiving that one year. Remember that?”

  Barely. I spent most of the trip in a sunburned, drunken haze.

  “You were in the main house with the rest of the family. She offered up the guesthouse to me so I could have privacy, which didn’t make sense. You were the one who brought, like, four friends. You guys needed your space, but I wasn’t going to complain.” He takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. “She’d come to the guesthouse every night and toy with me. Flirt, touch me, test me, kiss me, then leave me just when shit got good. Drove me insane.” Park drains half his beer and I watch him in silence.

  The way he’s talking, it’s like he actually enjoys his sexual relationship with Diane, which is blowing my freaking mind.

  “Spare me the details,” I finally say. I don’t need to hear about blowjobs and her teasing him. In fact, that’s the last thing I want to hear. “Are you two currently—seeing each other? Or was that kiss I witnessed just a one-off?”

  “We’ve kept up the affair pretty steadily for the last year,” Park says, his voice nonchalant, like his crazy story is no big deal. “It’s not like she’s the only woman I’m seeing, though. There are others. There have always been others.”