Read Online Thunderland by Brandon Massey - Free Book Online Page B

personality traits he had been willing to overlook because the sex was so good.
    “My dad said I was just like him,” he said. “ ‘Like father, like son,’ is how he put it. He accused me of cheating on my wife, the same way he’d cheated on my mother.”
    “So, he was telling the truth.”
    “I can’t stand the fact that I’m like him. I hate my father. It’s terrible to say that, but it’s true. There’s nothing I love about him. When he told me that today, I saw how much like him I’ve become, and I hate myself for letting it happen. I can’t take it anymore; I’ve got to change. So ...”
    “I get it.” Her face darkened. “You want us to stop seeing each other.”
    “Rose, I’m sorry. But we have to. I can’t do this anymore.”
    She glared at him.
    “I’m sorry,” he said again, knowing how lame he sounded like all of the other married men who used women for sex, then cast them aside when the affair became inconvenient. He sounded like a manipulative dog, the kind of man whom women despised and nice guys loathed because he gave all men a bad reputation.
    Shit, he needed another cigarette.
    Rose went to the closet and removed a blue silk robe. She covered herself, returned to the bed.
    “This doesn’t surprise me,” she said. “I knew you’d leave sooner or later. Men always do.”
    He stood and buttoned his shirt. “I didn’t mean to use you.”
    She laughed. “Please, you make it sound like you’ve broken my heart. I never loved you, baby. You were a good fuck, nothing more, nothing less.”
    “Thanks a lot.”
    “Don’t get an attitude. We used each other, and that’s that. You’ll go home to your wife, and I’ll go on to the next man.” She snapped her fingers. “You’re dismissed.”
    “Is that all? That’s so ... cold.”
    “Oh, you’re dripping with self-righteousness, ain’t you? Are you gonna tell your wife about me, Mr. Do-right?”
    He shrugged. He had not yet considered whether he would tell Linda about any of this. The subject floated like a giant storm cloud in his mind.
    Rose chuckled. “Nah, you won’t tell her. After you get over this little guilt trip, you’ll be out looking for pussy again. Don’t call me next time, all right?”
    “There won’t be a next time.”
    She curled up on the bed and crossed her legs. She smiled sweetly. “Thomas, do me a favor, okay? Get out of my motherfucking apartment.”
    “You don’t know me,” he said, compelled to explain that his rejection of her was not a mere temporary awakening of conscience. There would be no next time, no more “like father like son.” He was putting this crap behind him for good.
    “Are you gonna make me call the cops on you?” Rose said. “I said to get out of my fuckin’ apartment!”
    He got out of there. Rose didn’t give a damn about his morals, and he shouldn’t expect her to care. They hadn’t been friends; they’d been sex partners. Nothing more.
    As he walked across the parking lot to his Buick, the idea that he’d used the woman purely for sex, and had let her use him in kind, disgusted him. He’d always used protection when he was with her, and had been tested recently (without Linda’s knowledge, of course), but he felt filthy nonetheless. The thought hadn’t bothered him before, but it bugged him now. Christ, what was wrong with him? He’d been behaving so irresponsibly, he was fortunate that he’d gotten off the hook with Rose so easily.
    He climbed in his car. Under a clear night sky, he drove away from the apartment building and headed north, toward Spring Harbor.
    By ending his association with Rose, he had taken a step toward proving to himself that he was not like his father. But another obstacle loomed, and he could thank Rose for reminding him of it. Was he going to confess to Linda?
    He had to sit down and think it over, ponder every angle of the issue, then determine the best course of action. Action was the keyword. He would have to do something.