"Why not?" Chloe asked.
I didn't answer, not right away. The reason was complicated, and it involved Chloe. When all this went down, I didn't even know Chloe's name. But she'd been there – in my head and in my heart.
I could tell Chloe that now. And then what? Would she think I'd been stalking her? Would she wonder what else I was hiding?
She was still waiting for an answer. And stupid or not, I wanted to tell her everything. "The truth?" I said. "There was thisothergirl, someone I'd met maybe a few months earlier, before everything started to hit. And I couldn’t get this girl out of my head."
Chloe was frowning again. From jealousy? It would be nice to think so. But what if it was something else? Like disgust that I'd been wanting one girl while screwing another?
Tonight, I'd messed up in every way. I'd misjudged everything. I'd done things that I shouldn't. I'd said things that would haunt me forever. Now, more than anything, I didn't want to mess this up.
Chloe made a sound of frustration. "You're changing the subject. What about Brandy?"
I didn't want to talk about Brandy. I wanted to talk about Chloe. I wanted to tell her that she'd been haunting my thoughts for years. I wanted to explain that even while I'd been screwing Brandy senseless for the whole world to see, another girl had been on my mind. And that girl had been Chloe.
I felt myself frown. Right, because nothing says "I love you," like fucking one girl while thinking of another.
It was too messed up, and the risk was too high. I pushed away the distractions and focused on Chloe's real question. The night of that sex tape, what really happened?
I let out an long breath. "So that night, after this so-called attack, she wouldn't let me do a damn thing about it."
"Like what?" Chloe asked. "What'd you want to do?"
"Find those guys, take care of it."
"How?"
I shrugged. "I had a few ideas."
I thought of the two guys who'd attacked Chloe. I had some good ideas for them, too. Someday, I might thank my brother for talking some sense into me. But right now, I wasn't feeling particularly thankful.
Chloe's voice broke into my thoughts. "So what happened?"
It was a sore subject. But I'd brought it up – because Chloe deserved an explanation for what I'd done. "So we go back to her place," I said, "and I should've known something was up. The place looked like–"
How the hell did I explain it? There were flowers next to her bed, roses and carnations in a tall white vase. The lighting was soft, and her bedroom was warm. The comforter on her king-size bed was pink satin. She had matching pillows with lots of lace.
It was like Valentine's Day on steroids. I recalled being surprised, thinking, "Man, she really likes the girly stuff." Looking back, it wasn't so much a bedroom as a porn set. God, I'd been such a dumb-ass.
I made a sound of disgust. "Well, let's just say it looked like she was expecting company."
"Romantic company?" Chloe asked.
"Yeah. And she asks me to hold her, and starts kissing on me, and one thing leads to another."
Chloe snorted. "Yeah. I bet."
My jaw tightened. "Go ahead, joke about it. You and everyone else." I tried to laugh. "I should be used to it, right?"
Yeah, I was pissed. Chloe deserved an explanation. I got that. But I was sick to death of the whole fucking thing. That night with Brandy had changed everything.
Okay, some of it was for the better. I mean, it made me famous, right? But a lot of it, it wasn't so good, because in the end, Brandy became the first in a long line of girls who meant nothing to me when all was said and done. I didn't trust them, and I didn't love them. They were a blur of bodies without any faces that I cared enough to remember.
They'd used me. I'd used them. But somehow, it didn't feel like a win-win.
And then there were the punch lines, starring me, Brandy, and, in the words of one Web site, my giant cock. It was every guy's dream, right? To get rich, famous,andknown for being well hung?
Hey, at least I knew how to use it. That had to count for something, right?
