Page 10 of Revelation

“To be perfectly honest,” I continue, even though I know I should shut the fuck up, “I didn’t expect you to be so upset by what I wrote. I admit I didn’t wanna give you my application, but it wasn’t because I wasashamedof what I asked for,it was because I didn’t wanna have to explain all this shit about Emma to you. I’m not ashamed about The Club, Kat. I wassingle. It was one month of my life. No one was hurt—far from it.” I shift my weight. Shit, I think I’m digging myself an even deeper hole. “Frankly,” I continue, deciding the best defense is a good offense, “I’m shocked you’re so upset. Now that I’ve gotten to know you—or at least IthoughtI’d gotten to know you—I actually thought you’d be pretty understanding about everything I wrote—or, at least, about most of it.” My voice cracks, despite my best efforts to sound calm and collected. I rub my forehead. “I honestly thought you’d maybe even get off on some of it.”

Her eyes are wide.

The bell dings on the private elevator behind Kat’s back. The doors open and then close—but, thankfully, Kat doesn’t move from her spot in the hallway.

What the fuck happened to the woman who wrote me that awesome ‘application’ to the ‘Josh Faraday Club’? The woman who felt crushed when some asshole called her a slut and said she wasn’t ‘marriage material’? Where’s the girl who admitted she has a shitload of crazy-elaborate sexual fantasies, for fuck’s sake? I thought my perverted shit would be right up her alley, I really did. And where the fuck is the incredible girl who rode a Sybian ’til she squirted and literally passed out? Because I can’t imaginethatgirl reacting to my application withtears. I run my hand through my hair. Shit. I feel like I’m reliving that last, horrible, blindsiding conversation with Emma all over again.

“Just please tell me why you’re crying,” I say, trying to keep myvoice from sounding panicked. “I truly thought you’d understand about my application.”

“Josh,” Kat begins, but then she pauses.

My stomach twists with anticipation. Here it comes. I brace myself.

“I haven’t read your application,” she says softly. “You’ve misunderstood me.”

I close my eyes. Oh, how I wish I could stuff every word I just said back into my stupid goddamned mouth. I open my eyes. Shit.

“I started reading it, yes,” she continues. “But then I called you when I got to the part about your three photos, and then I saw your ‘Sick Fuck’ folder and—oh, yeah, bee tee dubs, I permanently deleted that folder, sorry, I can be kind of impulsive sometimes.” She takes a deep breath. “And then I went into your email account to send myself that naked photo of you with the gigantic boner—oh, and I also sent myself your application, too, by the way—sorry if that pisses you off, but, whatever, I am what I am—and, anyway, while I was in your email account, you got an incoming email.” Her lip curls with unbridled disgust. “Andthat’swhat I’m crying about, Josh: the freakingemail.”

I can barely breathe. “What email?”

Her eyes water and she wipes them. “An email from Jen—your blast from the past.”

The hair on my neck stands on end.

“And let me just say this,” Kat says, her voice edged with barely contained rage. “If a woman is totally into you and you keep stringing her along, even though you’re not into her, then at some point you’re not aplayboy, you’re just a flat-outprick.”

“What?”

“Unless, of course, youareinto her and you’ve been peddling me a line of total bullshit this whole time—in which case, you’re not just aprick, you’re also a flat-outliar.”

“What thefuckare you talking about, Kat?” I ask, dumbfounded. “What did Jen say in her email?” I pull my phone out from my pocket and frantically scroll through my inbox. And there it is—an email from Jen. I quickly read it, doing my best to see Jen’s message through Kat’s (batshit-crazy) eyes. “Oh, Jesus,” I stammer. “No, no, no, Jencompletelymisunderstood me,” I blurt. “I called to tell her I’m not interested in her—I swear to God—that’s what I told her.”

“Well, Jen sure seems to think you called to ‘suggest’ something along the lines of you ‘motorboating’ her ‘pretty titties’—again.”Her nostrils flare. Her face is bright red. She looks like a fucking fire-breathing dragon right now.

Shit. I look at Jen’s email again, my heart racing. “Kat, no. I didn’t suggest a fucking thing. I told Jen I wasn’t interested in her. I said I’m not in the market for a relationship.”

“Maybe youthinkthat’s what you said to her, but clearly you didn’t. Because she clearly thinks there’s still a chance forsomethingwith you,Josh, and when it comes to you, she’ll obviously take any little crumb she can get, no matter how small and pitiful.”

“Well, shit. Hang on. Lemme read it again.”

“It makes me wonder if you’re ever completely honest when it comes to women. Do you ever just tell it like it is? Or do you always spin things to avoid hurt feelings—or maybe to keep your motorboating-options open?”

“Hang the fuck on, Kat. Jesus fucking Christ, you demon-woman, lemme fucking look at it.”

Kat presses her lips together and crosses her arms over her chest, her eyes blazing. “I don’t mind a manwhore if he’s honest about it—I really don’t—I mean, as long as he’s not running around collecting baby-mommas or STD’s—but I absolutely cannot stomach a goddamned liar.”

“Fuck, Kat. Would you shut the fuck up for a minute? Jesus, you’re a fucking lunatic.” I look down at my phone and read again while Kat silently fumes. “Okay, clearly there’s been a huge misunderstanding,” I say when I’m done reading.

“Don’t forget to take a peek at the photos she sent you, too,” Kat says. “They’re super-duper awesome.”

I’d be a fool to open those photos with Kat standing right here, I know—but I do it, anyway. Why? Because, apparently, I’m every bit the suicide-bomber she is.

I open the first photo. It’s Jen and her famous mom, their cheeks pressed together.

“Yeah, so what?” I say. “Who cares if Jen’s mom is—”

“Open the second photo, Josh.”

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