Bad Boy Rich

The poor lighting made it hard to read the tombstone. Gone too soon. Those words stood out.

“That’s sad. I wonder how he passed?”

“He threw himself off a cliff.”

I stop breathing, resuming seconds later. “How do you know this?”

“I come here often, just to think.”

“How very Gomez Addams of you.” I attempt to lighten the moment, terrified that I had accidently stepped on someone’s grave.

“Come.”

He leads me through a pathway, down a small hill until we reach a large tombstone. It’s very run-down—almost neglected—with dead flowers wilted against the old stone.

“Adrian Lovelock. Walked into the ocean and never returned.”

My palms begin to sweat as my grip tightens. I hold my breath in, almost choking on my fear. I don’t understand why he brought me here and the thought of these people passing in very unfortunate circumstances terrified me.

“Why…or how…do you know this?” I stumble on my words; my thoughts so scattered and overcome by nerves. “Wesley, please answer me.”

His posture falls, hunched and nothing like the confident asshole who picked me up at my apartment or the person in the club who asked me if I was a nun. Another side to the ever-so-mysterious Wesley Rich.

“This could be me.”

I release my hand from his, taking a step back and careful not to step on a tombstone.

“What do you mean ‘this could be me’? Have you thought about throwing yourself off a cliff or walking into the ocean?”

My tone—though unintentional—comes off harsh. He doesn’t answer immediately, walking us in the opposite direction, the sounds of waves crashing getting closer. Wesley stops at the metal railing; protecting us from the steep fall off the cliff.

“Yes, I have. Their lives, my life, same path.” He lowers his head, slightly turning away.

“So change it. No one creates this path but you. You see a fork in the road, go the other way. Follow your instincts. If it doesn’t feel right then don’t do it.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Look.” I calm my voice to match his, pulling him away from the edge. “I don’t know anything about you. Whatever it is, I’m sure you can change it.”

“I’m not a good person, Milana,” he admits, finally raising his eyes to meet mine. “I’ve done bad things. Things you wouldn’t…” He trails off, the same time an owl howls in the background.

As long as he wasn’t an axe-wielding murderer, it couldn’t be that bad. Nobody was perfect, including myself. Perfection is so overrated.

“Wesley, stop. Please. Give yourself a break from your inner demons. You have so much ahead of you.”

Truth is, I knew nothing about him. I wasn’t even in a position to say ‘you’re only thirty, everyone knows that life begins at thirty-five.’ Wesley rubs his face with the palm of his hands, shifting seconds later to run his hands through his hair with an obvious frustration.

“I can’t stay away from you.”

His words were like fireworks; beautiful yet frightening and loud at the same time.

“But you don’t know me. What is it I’m doing that makes you feel that way?”

“Nothing. You don’t ask me much, you don’t follow me, you don’t hang onto my every word and beg for me to take you to my bedroom and fuck you in every which way because I’m Wesley Rich.”

I clung to every word he said; startled by the way it made me feel. The way he made me feel. I’m not surprised that girls threw themselves at him but that wasn’t me. I wasn’t into that whole lust for a movie star. The men I lusted for did something that set off a trigger warning inside my usually quiet mind.

And Wesley was doing both.