Page 15 of Sugar Coated Lies
“One of my regulars.”
“Not the stripper. I don’t trust that girl. She eyes my shit like she wants to steal it.”
He brought her over two weeks ago with a few of her friends. The girls wanted to have an orgy, but Benedict and I explained that more than one guy in the mix isn’t our thing. He offered to have a three-way with two of the girls, leaving one for me, but I passed. He never used to be into strippers other than partying with them at the clubs. Never brought them home until that one time and now this chick is a regular. He’s not serious, although I’m sure she’s hoping for this to end with a ring on her finger. It will end once he’s had his fill but not with a commitment.
“Take her to a hotel,” I add.
“What you don’t know…”
“I’m serious, Benedict. If you show up with her, I’ll make sure you’re not allowed entrance into the penthouse.”
“Since when did you become a cockblocker?”
“I’m not blocking anything. Have your way with her, just not at my place.”
“It’s your dad’s place.”
“Not anymore. My name is on the deed, and you know it.”
He was at the party I threw to celebrate my ownership. He’s just mad because his dad won’t allow him to move away from the family’s golf course and country club in Augusta. If he wants to become a golf course developer like his father, he has to learn all the ins-and-outs about how a golf course works and not just how to play the game. I suspect his dad isn’t oblivious to the fact that Benedict would rather let other people carry the weight of his work, and that’s why he keeps him on such a short leash.
“When did you become such an ass?”
“It’s called being responsible. You should try it.”
“Is that what you call what you were doing last night when you fought for the honor of fucking with my arch bitch?”
“Don’t call her that.” It’s out before I can stop it. I shouldn’t have said that. What the fuck is wrong with me? Benedict is paranoid by nature, which makes him suspicious of everyone.
He gets quiet, which is worse than him mouthing off. “Did something happen last night that you didn’t tell me about?”
I better come up with something good. “She just looked beat, like really beat, and I feel guilty for stiffing her. My mom would have my balls if she knew what I did.” That should work. He’ll think I feel this way because I’m spending time with my mom, and even he’s been lectured by her on respect. My mom believes in old-school southern charm when it comes to women.
“You always were a bit of a pussy.”
I laugh and change the topic. “I’ll be back by next weekend. Keep the place clean while I’m gone.”
“That’s the maid’s job.”
“No one calls them maids anymore. They’re house cleaners.”
“My dad wants me back in Augusta on Monday, so I’ll only be here for two more days.”
Good. Letting him crash at the condo has turned into him thinking he’s my roommate. “I get it.”
“Yeah. I guess you do.” He pauses. “Do me a favor?”
“Like?”
“Don’t let your guilt get the best of you and make you do something dumb, like check on my arch.”
He never uses her name. I’ve only ever known her as his arch, arch nemesis, or arch bitch. The fact that he knows me well enough to say that is scary.
“I don’t even know her name, man. I wouldn’t know where to start.” It’s true. I managed to offer her a job and not ask her name. Because that wasn’t the plan.
“But you know where she works.” He dropped me off and picked me up. She thought it was an Uber. I just called them to come back. It was all part of Benedict’s revengeful scheme.
“Her boss was such a dick about me screwing her over. I don’t know if she has a job anymore. He was pissed. She probably got fired the minute I left. How did you know where she works, anyway?” The question never occurred to me before. I’ve never been with him when he’s pranked her, just heard stories—which I mostly ignored.
