I watch Sage walk down the empty city street until she turns a corner and disappears. In my mind, I know…that’s it.
She and I have no more business together. I need to focus less on her and more on what I’m going to do with my life now, and it sure as hell isn’t pretending I’m dating someone just to make my father mad. This isn’t high school. I’m not a child.
As I turn in the opposite direction and start my slow stroll back to my apartment, I think about that night with her again.
That wasn’t me. The way I behaved with her was evil. Wanton. Weak. Years of Bible studies and sermons have taught me that temptation is like poison to the virtue of a good man.
But at the same time…I finally got to feel what it’s like to truly let go. To finally do what I always wanted to do.
And it felt good.
My father would tell me that was the work of the devil. The temptation to give in to such carnal and sadistic urges can only bring a man to ruin.
Of course, that is the same man who I caught indulging in his own carnal urges and with no remorse. Without apology or contemplation. As if it meant nothing to him. As if…everything he taught me my entire life…was a lie.
I’m not a fool. I’m thirty-seven fucking years old, and I have enough self-reflection to know that indulging in vices from time to time does not make me a good man condemned.
But am I a good man?
I’ve never had meaningless one-night stands before. And would have never dreamed of sleeping with a cheating woman. Something came over me that night. I was depraved, and the only thing worse than the way I behaved was how much I enjoyed it.
Not to mention how flippantly I treated her, leaving just after I came and never putting her pleasure before mine. I used her.
God, I’m no better than my father.
Fuck—do I want to be?
These thoughts circle round and round as I reach my building, taking the elevator up to the third floor. The moment I step off, I pause in my tracks as I find myself standing face-to-face with the man himself.
Instantly, my blood starts to boil.
I haven’t faced my father in three weeks. Not even for church or Sunday dinner. Just the sight of him now proves I’m not ready.
“What are you doing here?” I mutter darkly as I try to pass him by to get to my door on the other side.
My father grabs my arm and gets in my face. “We’re going to have a civil conversation. You understand?”
“Fuck you,” I reply, seething with hatred as I stare into his eyes. I’m still wearing a light bruise under my eye and a scar where he split the skin of my cheek with his fist.
“Open the door, Adam.”
I yank my arm out of his grasp as I plunge the key in the hole, turning it with a click and opening the door before marching inside. He’s behind me, shutting the door so we’re suddenly alone.
“I have nothing to say to you,” I call with my back to him as I head toward the kitchen. I need a fucking drink.
“Too bad. You’re going to listen anyway.”
I spin on him with my brow furrowed. “You think because you’re my father, you can talk to me like this? Get the fuck out of my apartment.”
He scoffs with a smug grin that I’d like to punch off his face. “The apartment I bought for you.”
Something in me snaps. “I’ve worked my ass off for you. I’ve dedicated my life to your church. Your message. Your career.”
He rolls his eyes. “You’re still throwing a fucking fit over the writing job. Jesus, Adam. Grow up.”
“Does Mom know?” I ask as I pull a bottle of vodka out of the freezer, pouring it directly into a glass and shooting it back with a wince.
My father ignores my question, staring at me with a blank expression.
“Does she know you fuck twenty-year-olds every night?”
“Are you done?” he mumbles, looking bored.
“Get the fuck out.” I toss back another shot as my eyes narrow at him.
“The reason I came here is to make it perfectly fucking clear that you will come to Sunday dinner tomorrow, and you won’t utter a word of this to anyone, Adam. Not your mother, brothers, or anyone at the church.”
“Or what?” I reply with a scoff.
His eyes meet mine, and there’s something calculating and cold in the look on his face.
Suddenly everything I debated on my walk becomes crystal clear. About how good of a man I am if I’m truly like him, and for the first time, I realize—if he’s a good man, then I want nothing to do with that.
It feels as if my shackles are released.
I can be as bad as I want.
“Son,” he starts with a sigh. “I don’t want to see you hurt or struggling. But if you try to ruin everything I’ve built, I’ll have no choice. If word gets out, the ones you’ll really be hurting are them. Your family. Our congregation. So from now on, you’ll come to family dinners and events for the church, but you’ll never speak another word about this.”
My teeth are clenched so tight my jaw aches. I hate him.
I want to punch him again, but I can’t. Sage was right. He’s too powerful, and I believe him. If I try to mess with his place at the church with rumors, he has enough power to make my life hell. I know he’d do it.
So without another word, I waltz straight to the front door and pull it open. Then I stare at him with my chin up. “You’ve said what you wanted to say. Now get out.”
“Do we have a deal, son?” he replies without moving.
Looking at the floor, my jaw clenches again. “Yes,” I say, seething with hatred. “I won’t tell anyone about the club or about who you really are. But that’s it. You and I are done.”
“The apple didn’t fall as far as you think it did, son. We do our job, and we help the people. Stop worrying about everything else.”
He presses his lips into a tight smile as he walks confidently out of my apartment.
I don’t wait until he’s in the elevator before I slam the door closed. My mind is racing and my blood is pumping, boiling with my hatred for him, and I’m far too restless to let it rest now.
So I pace my apartment for fifteen minutes, waiting until I’m sure he’s gone before I snatch my keys from the counter and bolt out the door.
I’m too hyped up to walk and too buzzed to drive, so I order myself a quick ride before I reach the street level. Then I pace anxiously as I wait for it to pull up. Within about five minutes, it’s there and I climb in.
The entire conversation replays in my head the entire way over. This new energy surges through me, and the ideas that burn in my mind feel like gasoline on the flame.
As the driver pulls up to the Laundromat, I shoot him a quick thanks and bolt from the car. A bell above the door chimes as I pull it open and enter the Laundromat. It smells like fabric softener and incense, and there’s a thin, gray-haired woman standing behind the counter, her eyes glued to the TV hanging from the wall.
I meander my way to the back, where the heavy black door is that leads to Sage’s apartment. I nearly make it all the way before she stops me.
“I hope you’re nicer than the last one.”
Turning back to the woman, my face pinches in confusion as I send her a curt wave. When she doesn’t say anything else, I shake off the strange encounter and enter the stairwell, bounding up the steps until I’m standing in front of her apartment door.
I rap on the wood, and Roscoe starts barking immediately.
“Would you just chill out?” she snaps at him before pulling open the door. Then she’s staring at me in shock. “Adam.”
“Fuck it. I’m in.” The words fly out of my mouth without warning because the quicker I say them, the less chance I have of backing out.
“Um…okay. Great!” she replies with her adorable bare shoulders lifted in excitement.
“But being seen at the gala isn’t enough. We need more. I want there to be nothing left of my reputation when we’re done.”
Her lips part as she stares up at me in surprise. “Are you sure?”
“One hundred percent. I want nothing to do with him for the rest of my life, and I’m tired of being so fucking good. So tell me your plan.”
“Okay…” She opens the door wider to let me in. I step into the small space as Roscoe bounces around my feet. Reaching down, I pet him softly on his tiny head. To my surprise, he doesn’t try to bite my hand off this time, which I take as a small victory.
“So, what did you have in mind?” I ask, turning toward Sage.
“We’re going to need drinks for this.”
“Can it be coffee?” I reply. “This isn’t about being impulsive to me. I want to take this seriously.”
Her brows crease together as she moves toward her tiny kitchenette. “Sure. Can I ask what changed since I saw you…like an hour ago?”
“My father was at my apartment when I got home. Told me to stay quiet about it. Threatened me. It just…set me on edge.”
She watches me as she prepares a pot of coffee in her tiny drip machine. “Threatened you? Jesus. Has your dad always been such an asshole?”
I lean against the counter with my arms crossed. “Yeah, he has. But he hid behind his ministry. I always knew he had it in him, and honestly, there was this look in his eyes today… It made me think he wanted me to push his buttons. Like he wanted to prove just how fucking tough and powerful he is.”
“Stupid toxic masculinity,” she mutters as she pours the water in the machine.
I laugh silently to myself. “Everything about him is toxic.”
“Well, if it makes you feel better, I can tell you’re a much better person than he is.”
Her nimble fingers hypnotize me through each step of the process, finally pushing the button that lights up red. A moment later, it starts spurting and bubbling to life. When she finally glances up at me, I work up the courage to say the exact words hanging on my tongue.
“That’s the thing, Sage. I don’t want to be a good person anymore.”
Confusion morphs her features as she stares at me. “What do you mean?”
“I mean… My entire life, I have behaved. I’ve been righteous, virtuous, holy, God-fearing, and loyal. Look what it got me. He’s been none of those things, and he has enough power to manipulate everyone in his life.”
“But that’s not—” she starts, but her words stop there.
“That is what I want, Sage. He didn’t follow any of the rules, and God blessed him anyway. I want to be done with all of it. And I need you to help me.”
We’re bathed in silence, and I’m so enamored with staring at her that I don’t even realize how much time has passed. The coffee maker beeps, and she turns to pour us each a cup.
When we take our mugs and sit down on opposite sides of the couch, she just blurts out two words that have me instantly choking on my coffee.
“Sex tapes.”
I sputter and cough, feeling the burn of the hot liquid down my windpipe as I try to recover and understand what she’s implying at the same time.
I mean, of course I know what she’s implying. What’s one step further than fake dating? Fake sex tapes. It makes perfect sense.
Except she didn’t say fake sex tapes. She just said sex tapes.
“Sorry,” she says, handing me a paper towel to clean up the coffee now staining my shirt. “I guess I shouldn’t have sprung that on you.”
“It’s fine,” I reply. “To be honest…we were on the same page. Or at least…I think we were.”
As I glance up at her with desperation in my eyes, she seems to catch my implication and holds up her free hand in surrender. “Oh, I didn’t mean that you and I would sleep together again… I mean, not really. In fact, I think for this to work, we should keep our…hands—and other parts—to ourselves.”
Why do I suddenly feel disappointed by that? We’ve already fucked. Why not do it again, but this time for the camera?
Solemnly, I nod. “Of course, I understand what you meant. We could make them look real.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
I muddle through the idea for a moment as I attempt a second sip of my coffee. There’s something about the idea that feels weak. Sex tapes are great if you’re a national treasure or major celebrity, but I’m barely known around Austin, let alone far enough to have any sort of impact on his reputation. I’d be lucky if that made a few local Twitter threads.
“I don’t know, Sage. No one will care about me.”
“They will. I’m sure hardly anyone will actually see them, but if we make sure they see them, it will have them clawing each other’s faces off. I know Brett. If he finds out Truett’s son is banging his girlfriend, he’ll lose his mind.”
I scrutinize her for a moment as I take a sip of my coffee, stuck on the word girlfriend instead of ex-girlfriend. “You just want to incite chaos, don’t you?”
With a sinister smile over her mug, she nods. “Yes, I do.”
