“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.”
Twelve
Sage
“H oly shit.” Adam is standing behind me, and I wince when I feel his eyes scrutinize my bedroom closet. I use the term closet lightly here because it’s really more of a room lined with clothing racks that also has a bed in it.
“Yeah, it’s a lot,” I reply as I slide the hangers on the dress rack, looking for the bright-pink minidress I have in mind.
“How does one small person have so many clothes?”
“Focus,” I say, leveling him with a terse glare. “Okay, so how fancy is this gala?”
“I don’t know…” he replies as he pulls out a black lace top. “I wear a tuxedo. The ladies wear ball gowns.”
“Hmm…”
We came in here a few minutes ago to decide on my wardrobe for this event, and I’m honestly torn between making a scene or discreetly pissing off his dad. The minute he sees Adam walking in with me on his arm will be sweet enough. I just don’t know how far Adam wants to take this.
When I spot the neon-colored dress at the end of the third rack, I know right away it’s not the right choice.
Adam’s arm brushes mine as we reach for the same hanger, but I catch the way he instantly recoils, pulling his hand away, like touching me might give him some communicable disease.
I saw his face when I suggested the videos. The apprehension was clear as day because, in his mind, he was panicking at the mere thought of having to have sex with me again—as if that one fleeting night was too insane as it was.
I’m not offended by that. It has nothing to do with me and everything to do with all of that brainwashing he was subjected to that made him believe good Christian women are the only people his dick is allowed to respond to.
When he stares in confusion at another strappy dress, I take the hanger from him with a laugh. “Okay, how about I try on a few things, and you pick what you want me to wear to this thing?”
With a sigh, he nods and makes his way back to the couch.
When I walk out two minutes later in the bright-pink minidress, his jaw is hanging open like a fish. And not necessarily in a good way. The mermaid tattoo on my right thigh is showing, and so are her beautiful tits.
“I don’t know if they’ll let you in wearing that. It needs to be a little more formal.”
“Fair enough,” I reply, turning back to the room.
I pull a purple gown off the most unused rack in the corner.
I wore it to one of the club’s formal evenings, but since it was marketed so poorly, I was the only one dressed so nicely. Now I hate this dress, but I figure it might work for this occasion, so I slip it on.
When I walk out this time, Adam is staring at his phone.
When his eyes drift upward to assess this option, his reaction is a little lacking. He gives a shrug. “It’s pretty, but I don’t know if he’d even recognize you in that.”