My addiction and hers are not proportionate. Not by a longshot. I’m another notch on the rich-kid sob story who gets addicted to alcohol or drugs. Lily, a girl, is addicted to sex. Even if it does happen, people don’t talk about it, but they will this time.
“Let’s say people find her newsworthy, and not in a good way. What then? Do you think you could find this guy?”
“I could try,” he says, eyes alight with interest. “What is it?”
And I just let it out. “She’s a sex addict.”
I watch him frown and then quickly the disbelief turns into humor. He laughs so hard that his fist subconsciously pounds the table, a pepper shaker overturning and clinking on the iron. I guess it’s hard to believe that the girl he knows, shy and a little awkward, would have that kind of addiction.
“You got me. I’ll give you that,” he says, leaning back in his chair with a grin.
My expression never falters. I can’t laugh with him or joke about Lily’s problem. Not when I know how dangerous it has been. Before we were together, I caught her surfing Craigslist for a hookup. There are levels to sex addiction that scare the shit out of me.
My father watches my unwavering features, and his smile fades. “You’re serious?”
“She’s addicted to sex. She has been since…I don’t know, since she lost it.” I cringe, never wanting to talk to my father about this.
He rubs his mouth, connecting everything together. “Oh…” His eyes grow. “Oh…fuck.” He glances at my contract like he’s one second from snatching the paper and setting it on fire.
I pocket the contract, and his eyes lift to mine. “We have a deal,” I remind him.
“Sex addiction—are you even sure?” he asks. “That’s a serious accusation, something that would need proof.”
“She’s seeing a sex therapist,” I tell him, “and not that it’s any of your business, but she used to hire male prostitutes, so yeah—she had a fucking problem.”
“Had? Past tense?”
“We’re working on it.”
He lets out a low laugh that chills my bones. “You’ve been letting your girlfriend fuck other men?” He shakes his head, and I can practically hear his thoughts: that can’t be my pussy of a son. He stands to pour himself another drink. I usually don’t notice how often he refills, but this has to be the third or fourth time—an amount that would have most people sloshed. But he’s a functioning alcoholic. Twenty-four-seven drunk. No one can really tell. It’s there in his hard eyes, ready to lash out spitefully at any moment. He’s just riding that wave, the edge to his life sandpapered down.
And I know if I had a sip, I’d be the same exact way. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. I’m not aggressive, but sometimes I’m belligerent. I can make sure that won’t happen. I’ll be calm.
I have the sudden urge to flip my glass and ask for alcohol. I’ll get sick, I remind myself. It’s literally the only argument I can think of right now.
I try to focus on my father’s eyes and not the glass in his hand. “I didn’t let her fuck anyone when we were together. We only started dating seven months ago.” I explain quickly about our fake relationship, cursing myself that everything has become so complicated that I have to reveal this too.
My father hasn’t taken a seat yet. “You acted like you were together just so I wouldn’t send you to a military academy?”
“Yeah,” I say. “You were ready to ship me off, weren’t you?” I had fucked up and vandalized some guy’s house for messing with Lily. He mailed her a dead rabbit after his girlfriend discovered that he fucked another girl, and he blamed it on Lily, even though he was the cheating bastard.
I retaliated by dousing his door in pig’s blood. It was one of my more creative efforts. And I was black-out drunk. I honestly remember very little of the whole ordeal. But I can recall everything afterwards—how my father grabbed me by the neck and yelled in my face. What did you get out of this, Loren? Did it make you feel better? Do you like being such a sick fuck?
My father was prepared to kick me out after I dragged his name through the mud. I was the degenerate, the resident bad boy who would go to another school district just to mess with someone. I was suspended. I was a stupid kid who wanted to make Lily feel better—who wanted to change every horrible fucking thing. But I just didn’t know how.
My father wanted to be proud of me, but I gave him nothing to be proud of.