Rex

Settling back into my Tesla, I stare out at the dreary day that matches my mood. I think back to the day I picked up my new Ferrari and met Jessica for the first time. It’s amazing to think how she has turned my world upside down in such a short amount of time. I hear my phone buzzing from inside the console and I’m tempted to open the door, place it in front of the rear tire and drive over it. Instead I lift the lid and see Jessica T. on the screen, as if I didn’t already know who was calling.

“Good morning, Jessica.” I answer, trying my best to sound pleasant.

“Where have you been?” she gasps, as if we had plans that I’m skipping out on.

“Having coffee with Dr. Farris. Why?” There is a long pause, which I knew would occur when I brought Cindy’s name into the mix.

“How is she? Did you tell her the big news?” she finally asks, sounding a bit flustered.

“I did. I told her that I’m apparently going to be a father in nine months,” I reply, feeling another dull stab in my gut as a result of the admission. It’s less painful, so apparently I’m growing accustom to the idea.

“I think we should go to Vegas next weekend and get married,” she suggests, leading me to believe that she’s either high or losing her mind. “It doesn’t have to be anything elaborate. I’ve never been one for big church weddings.” I’m never one to find myself at a loss for words, but in this case I’m speechless. “After you left, I couldn’t help thinking about the three of us. We could convert your workout room to a baby room,” she adds, already taking over my house.

“Whoa. Whoa.” I just need her to stop talking for a moment. Where the hell is this coming from? “The last two months, there has been so much tension between us. I was under the assumption that last night was our last session and then at the end of the evening… you tell me your pregnant with my child.”

“But last night was beautiful. It was like our first night together,” she pleads, wanting to believe that there is more than a surrogate arrangement between us. “I know you could sense that something had changed.”

“Yeah, you made me dinner and you were very pleasant to be around.” I once again find myself fumbling for the best way to explain things. “And I wanted to end our sessions on a high note.”

“Our sessions?” she asks, her voice cracking in a way that lets me know I should’ve taken a bit more time to find the right words. “You still think I’m just another client? Just one of the thousand women you’ve been with in the last ten years?” I feel a bead of sweat popping from my brow as I wait for the rest of the meltdown. “I’m carrying your child! Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

“Yes. It means that something went wrong and I’m trying to figure out how that happened,” I reply, not wanting to be mean but wanting her to know the truth of how I feel. “Like I told you last night, I have no intention of getting married and raising kids. That has never been my goal in life. It’s nothing to do with you. It’s just me. I just don’t see myself falling in love and raising kids. I’m obviously flawed in that way.” Jessica sobs into the phone, even though it’s the same thing I told her last night. I’ve had this conversation several times with my mother, who desperately wants grandchildren for some reason. She probably sees it as a chance to make up for being a shitty mother.

“I don’t understand how you can be so cold,” she whispers through her tears. “I’m going to crucify you online,” she adds, reverting back to the vengeful woman I’ve grown to despise in the preceding weeks.

“Hey, just because I can’t marry you doesn’t mean you have to go out and trash me,” I reply, instantly knowing what is about to happen. “I gave you one hell of a performance last night.”

“Yes, you did. And now I get why.” Her voice lowers and her tone changes eerily. “You thought a couple great orgasms on your way out the door would keep me pacified. Would keep me from saying the truth about you. Well you’re wrong,” she hisses. “Yes, you are great in bed and I’ll shout that from the rooftops, but you have no fucking heart. You’re a soulless bastard, just like all the other pigs out there.”

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” I reply, my head spinning from her vial words. “I chose this occupation to help people and I think I’ve helped a lot of my clients. I’m sorry you feel differently. I never intended to hurt you.” The line is silent and I realize that I’m now talking to myself. It’s irrelevant. I know she won’t accept any words I have to say anyway. She’s going to do whatever she wants. My phone buzzes in my hand and it’s a text message from her.

Jessica: You’re finished in this town ASSHOLE!!!!!!!

I power down the phone and toss it back in the console. She doesn’t need to kill my career. It died the moment she told me she was pregnant. I pull out my new phone and click to call Cindy back.

“Well, hi,” she says, sounding surprised to hear from me so soon. “What’s wrong?”

“I just talked to Jessica. She wanted to get married in Vegas.”

“Oh, good lord. That sounds like something she would do.” A silence emerges between us. She’s obviously thinking about what I should do. “Just go relax and forget about everything. I’ve already talked to Rebecca and left a message for Lanny. I’ll see if I can get ahold of Jessica too.”

“I told her we had coffee this morning, so she’ll probably be suspicious if you call her right away,” I warn, not wanting her to get on her bad side too.

“I’ve worked with her for a long time, so I can be straight with her,” she replies, not surprising me in the least. “I’m sure she knew full well that you weren’t going to run off with her and get married. Seriously?”

“It seemed like she just needed another excuse to go online and bash me,” I vent, the anger beginning to well up within me. “After she hung up on me, she sent a text saying that I’m finished in the town.” I close my eyes and exhale, trying to ease some of the tension.

“Well, if you want I’ll join that Sex with Rex page and defend you,” she offers, being the kind person she is.

“I’m sure Jessica is probably an admin for the page, so she could delete any positive comments and ban you if you say anything that contradicts her.” It’s an unwinnable battle, so there’s no use drawing her into it. “She probably wouldn’t let you into the group anyway. It’s private, so you have to be approved.”

“You’re probably right.” She sighs. “Like I said, go relax. You’ll always have my referrals if you decide to keep on being a surrogate. If you decide to call it quits, I’ll help you contact everyone and cancel their appointments.”

“Thanks, Cindy. I really do appreciate you.”

“Keep in touch,” she says before I cut the call. Why can’t this world be filled with people like Cindy? I ruminate about the fact that she’s been miserable most of her life in spite of being one of the most outwardly upbeat people I’ve ever met. It’s kind of crazy what we can do to ourselves. We tend to let our minds trap us into a little box when in reality, we can pretty much do anything we want to do in life. I think about the fact that don’t have any debt, nothing tying me to Seattle except my parents and a chance to make a fresh start. Being a sex surrogate has been a good gig, but honestly I was getting tired of all the shallow, sex-based relationships. I honestly haven’t had an emotional connection with anyone since Theresa. It’s like my heart has been completely closed off.

That’s not completely true. I do love Cindy. If I could find a younger version of her or just one who wasn’t best friends with my mother, I would marry her. Normally, I would chuckle at the thought of me getting married, but not today. Today my heart hurts and for the first time that I can remember, tears are streaming down my face. I don’t even have any tissues. I pull a chamois from the glove box and use it as a handkerchief. Why do I feel so damn miserable? Maybe it’s because I haven’t slept, maybe it’s because Jessica claims to be pregnant with my kid or maybe Cindy is right and I’m just tired of being lonely. I feel the floodgates open at the admission. I’ve always been focused on things like becoming an NFL quarterback, buying a home on the lake, buying my dream cars and getting in the best shape possible. I’ve never allowed myself to feel like this, because this really sucks.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper to everyone I’ve ever hurt. I know there are dozens or maybe hundreds of women who have felt deceived over the years. I’ve made love to them and whispered sweet things that I knew they needed to hear, only to disappear when the money stopped flowing. What kind of a person does this to vulnerable women?

I recant all the times that Cindy has told me how much I’ve helped some of our clients, but I know Jessica isn’t the only one who feels deceived and disappointed. It will be nice to spend some time in isolation. I’ve been living in a whirlwind for almost ten years and its time to recharge. Heading north on I-5 the urban landscape slowly gives way to farmland and trees. I find it soothing, my thoughts slowing and I’m relaxing into the seat. This is exactly what I need.

Saturday Evening

I throw a rib eye on the grill and close the lid, cracking a Wildcat IPA brewed by a friend of mine. I take a long draw from the bottle, looking out at the fading sun casting vibrant colors across the water. I could get used to this. I send a quick text to my hosts letting them know that I’ll take it for the entire week and if all goes well, I’ll make them an offer to buy it. I set a timer for ten minutes and sit back in the lounge chair, content for the moment. Now I see why people seek more solitude as they age. This world has a way of beating us down, so it feels pretty good to just get away from it all. If I buy this place, the down payment will tap the rest of my cash reserve. Maybe I’ll sell my place in Seattle. Maybe I’ll wait and see how the week goes.

Three beers and one steak later, I wander inside to see what’s on TV. Scanning through at least a couple hundred channels I decide to watch a recap of last night’s football game. UW trounced UCLA and I missed it because of Jessica, but at least I can catch the highlights. As I watch, I find my thoughts turning back to how things went down with her. I retrieve a glass from the cupboard and pour myself a few fingers of scotch, thinking it will relax me since the beer didn’t do it. I can’t believe she’s pregnant with my kid. Of all the people to have a kid with, she would be damn near my last choice. I pick up my old phone before heading back to the recliner. I’m not sure why I even brought it in, because it’s just like looking at the sun during an eclipse. I know I shouldn’t do it, but I can’t help myself.

The first thing I notice is the forty-three missed calls. Clicking on the phone button I see that they are all from numbers that aren’t in my phone and nearly all of them left voicemail messages. I also have a ton of Facebook and Instagram notifications, so I immediately know that Jessica followed through on her earlier threats. I’m not sure which, if any, I want to look at. I want to know what’s going on, otherwise it will drive me nuts. But, I’m not so sure I want to subject myself to this level of abuse. I pause momentarily, deciding to finish off the scotch in my glass and get a refill before proceeding. After filling my glass to the top with ice cubes and scotch I once again pick up my phone and brace myself. Be a man. It’s not going to kill you.

I punch Instagram first, since that’s the one that Jessica spends the most time on. I’m shocked to find that I have over a thousand new followers, but there are also dozens of comments. The picture I posted of the new Ferrari seems to be the target as most people are claiming that Jessica paid for it. That’s not even close to the truth, although she did pay for the upgrade to a convertible. It seems that about two thirds of the women are bashing me and the other third are interested in my services. One thing about my business is that I’ve always maintained a low profile. It’s definitely not something you want talked about on social media.

I click the Facebook button, knowing that she most likely has riled up all the Sex with Rex followers as well. As I scroll through dozens of comments on a post that she tagged me in, I begin feeling as low as I felt leaving downtown Seattle this morning. It’s obvious that these women don’t know me, because I’m not at all the way Jessica has portrayed me. My phone rings twice while I’m scrolling through the comments, both Seattle area numbers and I send both directly to voice mail. It will be interesting to see what type of mess awaits me in there. I click to close all my apps and toss the phone across the room onto the couch. I’m fucking done with this.

I pull out my new phone and send two text messages. The first to Cindy, letting her know that I’m done, so I’ll want her help notifying all my clients. The second message is to John and Ann, the owners of this cabin. I simply tell them, I’ll take it.