Chapter 4

“Would you like some tea?”

These Southern belles have amazing etiquette. We are sitting in Marigold’s garden. I feel like any minute now Paula Dean is going to walk out with some shortbread cookies. There’s a few guys mixed into Marigold’s friends. I feel like I’m at some high society dinner where they are going to discuss the landscaping or something. I feel completely out of place.

“No. I don’t like tea,” I respond before shaking my head and turning to Marigold.

“It’s a little tart anyway,” Marigold says.

“Has to be from the North,” one of the housewives say.

It causes this awkward laughter. I hate laughs like that. It’s those awkward laughs that people do when they know that nothing is really funny but there isn’t really anything else to do but to give an annoying courtesy laugh. America was built off of courtesy laughs. People were always just too politically correct to turn around to the person making this corny attempt at a joke and say, “Bitch that wasn’t funny.” I don’t blame it on these guys. They’ve been brainwashed.

“Ok, I’m not here to talk about fucking tea. I’m leaving,” I tell them.

They seem to be a little taken back by me. It’s Marigold who attempts to stop me though while the others seem on the verge of being offended. Of course they probably weren’t really offended. It was that fake offended that people did when they don’t know how else to react. The easy thing to do was to be offended and give this awkward smile and stare at someone else. They stare at someone else hoping that the awkward moment was something they shared. Maybe they can talk about it later. “That was awkward”, they’d say and then give each other a courtesy laugh. That’s probably going to be the highlight of their days.

“I was hoping you’d lead a little workshop for my friends,” Marigold explains.

“To do what?”

“Show them what you showed me. I think they’d find it very interesting.”

A lot of people are uncomfortable but not uncomfortable enough to get their asses up and leave. They are way too timid for that. They sit down and continue looking awkward and boring. I look over at Wade. He has these bubbly eyes when he looks at me. It’s almost hoping that I’d help them.

I figure, why not?

I back down at the tea party. I’m sat at the head of the tea party.

“Fine. Let’s talk. Going around the room…what are some things you guys are interested in?” I ask.

This one lady raises her hand in this exciting tone, “I love donating to Breast Cancer…”

She looks like she is about to go on and on as if her donating to breast cancer is really what is exciting for her to talk about this morning. I raise a finger at her and she’s smart enough to shut the fuck up.

“OK bitch you’re not allowed to talk anymore,” I tell her and look back around the table, “How about someone else. Maybe something that they’d like my advice on.”

There’s silence. They don’t know how to take me so none of them are talking. It’s like the first day of school where everyone is trying to get a read on everyone else and too shy to say anything. I feel a little annoyed. Little do they know I can do this awkward shit all day and it wouldn’t make a goddam difference to me. I stopped giving a fuck about awkward moments a long time ago.

I have a stare contest with these Southern debutants at that that moment. Our eyes latch onto one another.

It’s Wade who attempts to break the ice, “How about this? I’m sure everyone would like to be more honest on their day to day.”

I didn’t want Wade helping these stuck up motherfuckers. I wanted to get them to say something.

“Fine. Let’s go with that. Honesty. You…”

“Me?”

I am pointing at a young woman across the table. She is pretty. She is buttoned up. She’s probably in her 20s but she’s dressed like she’s in her 60s. She has a full dress and these soft curls. She looks like she just stepped out of the covers of a Vanity Fair article on how to get find a husband.

“Yeah. You. What’s your name?”

“I’m Natalie.”

“Good. Hey Natalie. Do you think you have a problem with honesty?” I ask.

“Um…yeah I suppose.”

“So hwo about you be honest with the group. “

“How?” she asks.

“In order to be honest with others you have to be honest with yourself,” I say, “For example. My name is Syn and I believe there is a God but I don’t believe in religion. The reason I don’t believe in Religion is because if that book is right I’m pretty sure that there is a special place in Hell designated for me. I’m talking about VIP. I get really hot by the way. So I think it’s easier for me to just assume that some old white guys from back in the day had mighty good imaginations. “

Someone clears their throat. Another man adjusts in his seat. A few look around as though trying to find an excuse to run away.

“I don’t have anything like that to say,” she responds, “I’m really religious. I mean I’m a sweet girl. My goals in life are to have a husband by 23 and kids by 25 Maybe that’s a bad thing. Maybe I’m impatient a little bit. I dunno.”

Jesus Christ.

“Ok. That’s a start. So why do you feel like you need to be married so young?”

“I just. I don’t know,” Natalie says, “That’s how I was raised.”

“Would that make you happy?” I ask.

She pauses.

The others look at her as though confused. They knew Natalie more than I did. When I looked at her I just saw a girl who was breaking to get free. Her eyes were damn near screaming right now. Maybe I’m exaggerating but I’m a little fucking dramatic from time to time.

“I don’t’ know?”

“Then be honest with yourself.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Sure it is,” I respond, “Be honest.”

“I guess I don’t want to get married. I kind of enjoy being young. I enjoy dating around.”

I roll my eyes.

“Is that it?”

Natalie looks around, “Um…”

“Stop looking at these people. We all have our shit. We are going to judge you because that’s what people do, but you have to accept it and stop being such a fucking prude. You want to learn how to be honest with other people you have to learn how to be honest with yourself.”

Natalie pauses. It takes Marigold surprisingly to give her a soft nod of approval before Natalie really starts to let us in.

“Sometimes I think I like guys a little bit more than I should,” she states.

One of the guys next to her coughs in discomfort.

“How bad is it?”

“Real bad. I have bad thoughts a lot.”

She’s still holding back.

“It’s worse than that isn’t it?” I suggest.

She nods, “Yes. God. Syn. I think about men all the time. I think about…well, I think about sex ALL the time.”

“You’re still holding back.”

“I just love NUT!” she screams out at that table, “I love getting BANGED by 2 or 3 guys at once. I like it all over my face. I like sperm all in my hair. I’m terrified that if I don’t get married I’m just going to end being the town WHORE. But you know what’s weird about it? You know what kills me?”

“What?”

“I think I’d prefer being a whore,” she admits.

I smile. For a minute the others seemed shocked with Natalie. For a minute they don’t how to respond. I know exactly how to respond though. I start a slow clap. I’m talking about Romantic Comedy slow clap. I’m talking about the slow clap that happens at the end when the guy finds the girl after thinking she left town but finally admits how much he actually loves her. This was Natalie’s love. She was a slut inside and that was OK.

What I’m surprised about however is that I’m not the only one clapping. After a few seconds I notice other people have joined me in cheering for her. We are all clapping for her as though she just won a fucking award. And Natalie looks around and it seems like those walls she built up for herself come shattering down.

“Ok, bitches,” I stop them, “Whose next?”

I spend all afternoon with these uptight individuals and by the time night comes around I’m pretty tired. If these people did have lives they completely abandoned them to stick around with me. Wade walks me to the pool house afterwards.

He doesn’t say anything. He just stares and he smiles.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask Wade.

He shrugs, “You’re…amazing…”

He’s been looking at me like this for hours. Now Wade is sexy as hell and the stare kind of turns me on. We get to the pool house and he just kind of stands at the door waiting for something.

“I appreciate it. Well…it’s getting late…” I state.

Wade grabs my waist and kind holds it for a second, “You mind if I come in for a while.”

“Would it mean anything?” I ask.

“Huh?”

“You want to come in. I’m assuming you want to have sex,” I tell Wade.

Wade shrugs, “Listen. Ever since I first met you I’ve wanted to do that. So if you’re inviting me right now then…yeah. That’s what I want to do.”

“So like I said…would it mean something?”

Wade is staring at me. God this guys is beautiful. He has these big poster boy lips. If this was up North he’d probably be the lead singer in a boy band. I can see teenage girls throwing their panties at him all day. There was still something restrained about him though. There was something he was holding back about himself. I could see it but I wasn’t quite sure what it is. He seems to have gone from this shy and reserved guy to a guy who was at my doorstep basically begging me to invite him in for sex.

“It would mean the world.”

“I can’t then.”

“What?”

“Listen. I don’t want anything from you more than sex,” I explain to him, “I owe it to you to be honest. I’m in love with Sampson. He’s the reason that I’m down here.”

“The pastor?”

Wade is shocked.

“Yeah, love of my life.”

“Um…Syn. He is a pastor of a church. He has a wife and kids.”

“Minor details,” I explain shaking my head, “Sampson’s mine. The more I think about it the more I realize we always find our way back to one another. It’s not perfect. Sure he may have a family or whatever right now but I’m here for a reason. We always find each other for a reason. So if you coming in here and fucking my brains out is going to mean more than that I can’t invite you in.”

Wade looks at me. He’s almost challenging me to stick to my story with this stare. He licks his lips and reaches up his shirt to rub on his rock hard abs. His eyes squint at me. He moistens his lips with his tongue almost showing me what I’m looking for.

It’s subtle but I can tell this boy likes me.

“I’m not gay,” he explains, “But I’m not looking for just sex. You interest me. You interest me more than anyone has interested me ever. You helped those people today. Religion and money has created this bubble. I think you bust it a little bit. And I’m going to bust yours.”

“I think I just felt a little precum. You sure you don’t want to just come in for a while…no strings attached?”

Wade grabs my face.

He starts kissing me. I’m shocked by it. He tastes so good. His tongue goes straight down my throat. He presses up against me as we’re kissing on the wall. I feel his hear beat up against mine. As Wade kisses me he grapples on the smalls of my back. He presses in it. He makes me feel like he is someone so much older then he actually is when he does it.

“I like you…” he tells me, “I’m not going to say anything less just to get in your pants.”

He pulls back and stares at me.

I stare back.

“I guess we are a stand still,” I tell him.

“I guess so.”

I smile again and go inside. Needless to say I jerk off about twice that day thinking I’m having sex with Wade. Truth is I wish I’d open up to someone else but after seeing Sampson I just couldn’t. I would have sold my soul for Sampson to walk me home and declare that he wanted more from me. He’s said it before over and over again. Over and over again we kept breaking up. Make up to break up was the story of our lives. My dumbass kept dealing with it.

I felt hypocritical. Here I was giving people advice about their lives when mine was screwed up.

Still I had to be honest with myself. It was always Sampson for me and it always would be.

It’s the evening when Wade comes to my door. I’ve spent the entire day sleeping and being lazy. It’s not much to do in the South. The more I think about it I can see why people live in such a bubble down here. There isn’t much else to do but aspire to being perfect. This city needed trouble. This city needed someone to come in here and stir shit up.

Luckily I’m around.

It’s night time when I get a knock on my door. I walk over to see Wade dressed up in a suit and tie. Wade has flowers in his hands.

“You look nice,” I say.

“Thank you,” he responds and hands me the flower, “I’m putting on my grown man today.”

“What are these for?” I ask.

“You,” he states.

“Listen kid. It’s cute that you wear a suit and tie but you still aren’t a grown man yet,” I tell him, “You’re not even 21…”

Wade just isn’t getting it. I mean he looks the part with his suit and tie on but the hope in his stare makes me realize that he’s still so young and immature. He’s looking at me like I’m the second coming of Jesus. Needless to say…Wade was way off.

“Wade…”

“Relax, it’s not from me. Well not just from me,” Wade explains, “The group you talked to yesterday sent them. They wanted to thank you for just listening to them and hearing them out. I guess a lot of people go to the church for things like that but Sampson isn’t exactly objective.”

I look at the flowers. I’ve never been big on flowers but I think it’s a nice thought that they sent them. I take them and smile a little bit.

“Thanks for bringing them over Wade,” I explain to him, “But let’s not shit talk Sampson. That’s still the love of my life. He’s a pastor. It’s not like he’s going to tell someone to admit they have slutty tendencies.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” Wade explains.

“What do you mean?”

Wade shrugs, “Nothing. Listen. I was kind of hoping that me and you can go out tonight.”

“Like on a date?” I ask.

Wade smiles, “More like a business meeting.”

“What? Why?”

“Just listen. Get dressed. Please. I’ll take you out.”

The Southern Restaurant is fancy. I’m way underdressed. As we walk into the restaurant I stick out like a sore thumb. Everyone just seemed completely into etiquette and Southern charm. Wade opens the doors for me and then when we get to our actual table Wade walks over and pulls out my chair for me. I’m sitting here thinking I’m in Pretty Woman after she became pretty.

This is a small town and I’m starting to realize it when I see certain familiar faces. I see a woman who was Marigold’s friend. She is with her family Her name is Alice Westinghouse. Just yesterday she admitted to the fact that her husband kept putting his hands on her when he came back from the Country Club meeting. I told her to wait until she fell asleep and once she fell asleep fill a sock up with ice cubes. Once he was asleep I told her to just go crazy and then leave.

I look over at Alice’s table and she gives me a slight wave. I notice her husband has a black eye.

Well done.

“Sir,” the waiter comes over to the table, “This is from Mrs. Westinghouse with her since gratitutude.”

I look at the envelope as the waiter walks away.

Wade looks over at me with a curious expression, “What is it?”

“Money…”

“Interesting,” he says and smiles, “You deserve it.”

“I’m going to send it back,” I respond, “I don’t help people out for money. I just wanted to help people out.”

Wade puts his hand on the envelope. As he does that I see that he is also managing to put his hands on me. He touches my hands softly at that moment. He’s so goddam soft. I can’t help but to feel his hands linger on me. His eyes linger as well.

“You deserve it. Take it,” he explains, “As a matter of fact. That’s why I brought you here. I think that you can change people’s lives Syn.”

“Me?” I laugh, “I once put super strength laxative in the food supply for my boarding school. I don’t think I’m some Inspirational leader.”

“You inspire me,” he responds.

There goes that look again. I know that look and it scares the fuck out of me. I look at Sampson this way. Wade’s eyes don’t deviate not even a little bit. He stares at me with this longing stare. He’s so beautiful. He doesn’t even know. I don’t deserve to be stared at like this. I was in love with another man.

“You got the wrong guy. If these people want inspiration in their lives they might want to go see Sampson. I’m trouble.”

Wade shrugs, “Maybe we need trouble.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” I warn him.

Wade nods, “Listen. Ok. Just think about it. Ok? A bunch of my mother’s friends are saying they want to invest in you. That envelope has a few hundred in it but I’m talking about they are saying they want to invest thousands in you.”

“To do what?”

“To open up…a center?”

“I don’t do centers,” I respond to him.

It sounded too much like institution. It took Sampson to break me out of a mental institution one time. There was no way in hell that I was doing something like that again. Wade got me fucked up man. Nope. Not doing it. Never. They’ll have to kill me first.

Wade shakes his head, “More like a place where you can do your own motivational speeches. The town does have Sampson but his church is corrupted. I mean his Deacon is sleeping with his wife for Godsakes. And Wesley’s brother, who is the mayor of this city is BEYOND corrupt. The city needs a little trouble. The city needs someone who just doesn’t give a fuck. They need someone like you.”

The way Wade talks about me scares me. This kid is seeing something that I don’t even see. He is looking at me SO hard. I can’t help but to think that he’s going to be disappointed but I feel like I’d crush his little hopes if I didn’t even try.

“I don’t know.”

“At least say you’ll think about it?” Wade asks.

I shrug, “Fine.”

That’s all Wade needs to hear.

The rest of the time he is just giving me those strange looks. This guy is in his emotions. I am a little amused by it. He didn’t even know me. None of these people knew me. I could take this money and leave if I was a fucked up person. They were so goddam gullible and kind of dumb in my opinion.

Maybe I was the dumb one though. Wade said it wasn’t a date but he spends 10 minutes talking about business and the rest of the dinner trying to get personal. He keeps asking me shit you would ask on a date. What’s my favorite movie? Kill Bill, because I loved a bitch running around town getting revenge on people. What’s my favorite color? Black, like my soul. What’s my favorite music? I don’t listen to music, it’s a way the system attempts to brainwash you. Here I am listening answering all his question and I’m realizing more and more that this thing we are on actually is a date.

And what’s worse…I kind of like it.

When the nights over we are walking out and Wade is walking so close to me that I swear he is going to try to hold my hand. I even feel his fingers attempt it but right when he does we walk past someone else.

Sampson.

“Sampson,” I state.

“Syn…Wade?” Sampson says looking at us.

Sampson is with his wife. Dahlia smiles at me.

“Oh hey Syn!” she says smiling at me, “How have you---“

“God. I hate the sound of bullshit,” I state.

“Excuse me?” Dahlia says.

“Dahlia how about you go wait for me at the table,” Sampson says.

Dahlia seems confused but does what her husband says. Wade on the other hand is just standing there. He looks at the pastor with a concerned look. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to leave Sampson and I alone.

“Wade do you mind waiting at the car?” I finally have to offer.

Wade nods reluctantly, “Sure thing.”

Sampson and I are standing at the front of the restaurant alone. He looks me up and down for a minute.

“Really? You’re on a date with that kid?” Sampson asks me.

“Does it matter to you?”

Sampson shakes his head, “You think I’m jealous?”

“I know you are.”

“Listen I’m just worried about the kid,” Sampson shakes his head, “Have you told him that you have sociopathic tendencies.”

“That shit isn’t real,” I respond, “It’s just---“

“Something the system says to make geniuses think they are crazy?” Sampson says.

He knows me too well.

“Listen it’s none of your business who I’m out with,” I explain, “He asked to go out with me.”

“So you come to the restaurant that I always come to?” Sampson asks, “Are you trying to rub this in my face? Syn…why are you still in town?”

“You kicked me out and I moved in with your neighbor,” I respond, “I’m not on your property anymore. Isn’t this what you wanted?”

Sampson shakes his head, “You make me sound like I hate you. I don’t hate you, Syn. I don’t want to keep fighting about this. I just don’t want you in this city causing up trouble. I’m not going to come save you again Syn.”

“That’s OK. Wade can save me.”

I start walking away but then I notice Sampson grab my wrist. He does it in a way that seems a little bit more desperate than I think he would.

“Syn, stop shoving this shit in my face,” he says.

He keeps saying this. It’s like he’s speaking in code or something like that.

“What are you even talking about?” I finally ask him.

“I don’t…” he stops and then looks around nervously before adding, “I don’t want you around other guys in front of me.”

Ah. There it was. There was the admission. He looks angry and a little emotional. This was the old Sampson I knew. The fact that I was in his city and I was around another guy was getting underneath his skin. This had nothing to do with him protecting some innocent young soul from my influence. Sampson was jealous. No matter how you put it or how much he denied it, it was pure jealousy. I think he knows at that moment that his walls have come crashing down as well.

He releases me when I smile at him. He looks embarrassed. He avoids eye contact at that moment like a kid caught stealing candy.

“Don’t worry Sampson,” I state, leaning over to him, “When I fuck him…I’m going to make love to him. I’m going to make love to him the same exact way that you used to make love to me. I’m going to make love to him the same way your wife Dahlia does when you aren’t around.”

I might have said it to be spiteful. I might have said it so that it can burn Sampson a little bit. Sampson looks confused all of a sudden. He looks bewildered probably trying to confirm what I just said. I have no time though. I’m walking out of the restaurant.

“SYN!” he’s screaming back, “SYN YOU BETTER COME BACK HERE!”

I ignore him.

What’s the point?

I walk into the parklng lot satisfied with myself. Sampson wasn’t going to get any sleep that night. He’d stay up worrying and thinking about what I said. I expected to hear from him relatively soon. I knew him well enough. I doubt he was going to say anything to Dahlia without getting all the information and right now Sampson knew that I knew something.

He’d come looking for me.

And right now for the first time I see that maybe this thing with Wade can be useful. The guy definitely was into me.

As I walk into the parking lot I hear a car pull off. It pulls off faster than I expect. I see the person driving the car. It’s Deacon Wesley. The Deacon isn’t alone. He has a bunch of guys with him. Why are they driving off so fast?

That’s when I see it. Wade is laying there drowned in his own blood. Wade has been beaten so badly that his entire body looks immediately bruised and battered.

“It was the Deacon,” he mouths off to me before passing out.

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