The Anti-hero (The Goode Brothers)

The car is quiet as Adam pulls up to the front of the Laundromat. His jacket is still wrapped around my shoulders. It’s past eleven, but I’ve been a night owl for so long that late hours barely affect me anymore.

He puts the car in park and lets his hands settle in his lap. I don’t climb out of the car just yet. I feel like he wants to say something, and part of me wonders if it’s going to be him backing out of the plan.

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” I ask, my voice level and quiet.

“I’m sure.” His response is quick, which I don’t expect. I glance over to stare at his silhouette in the dark car, half of his face illuminated by the streetlights and neon signs.

Adam is always so stoic. Like he’s holding in his anger, burying it deep within himself, so now it’s etched into his DNA. This is the only way he knows how to be, which makes me want to rub my thumb into the crease between his brows until he lets that worry and anxiety melt away.

At times, he’s sweet. Charismatic. Like the morning in the diner or tonight as he proudly held me by his side. I have a feeling that was the real Adam, but he’s been so conflicted with duty and obligation his whole life; he’s been tricked into thinking he’s someone he’s not. And now that his father has pulled the morality rug from under him, Adam has turned into a powder keg ready to blow.

I wish I could heal him of all the pain he’s radiating.

“Will this make you feel better?” I ask. When he glances my way, I continue, “When you ruin your reputation to spite him. Will it make you happy? Able to move on?”

The crease in his brow deepens. “Does it matter?”

His tone is cold, reminding me that even after those small gestures of kindness and the bone-melting kisses tonight, Adam Goode still refuses to let me in. Ever since seeing his dad tonight, his entire mood’s darkened, and I can’t seem to get him back.

“Of course it does,” I reply.

“We’re not doing this to make ourselves feel good, Peaches. We’re doing this to tarnish his reputation.”

Reaching across the seat, I place my hand on his arm, my fingers sliding over the rich fabric of his black tuxedo. “It’s okay to do things because they feel good. That doesn’t make you a bad person.”

He looks first at my hand and then my face. Hearing what I just said, paired with how I’m touching him…I realize now that it looks like I’m soliciting something. So I quickly take my hand away.

Clearing my throat, I look out my window as I speak.

“We’ll start filming tomorrow. We can do it at my place.”

“Okay,” he replies, and when I glance back at him, I notice the angry crease has softened.

“Noon,” I add. To which he nods.

“Good night, Adam.”

Before he can even try to get out and open my door for me, I climb out. I barely make out his saying good night before the door shuts and I’m alone on the street.

As I make my way to the front of the Laundromat, unlocking it with my key, I expect him to drive away. But he doesn’t. He waits for me to be safely inside before he takes off into the night.

“Why are you watching porn in my Laundromat?”

I nearly spit out my Mountain Dew as Gladys leans over my shoulder and stares in shock at the video playing on the screen of my phone.

My finger swipes the app closed as my cheeks heat with embarrassment.

“One month without a boyfriend, and you’re that horny already?”

I let out a laugh as I pocket my phone and get back to work loading coins into the sorting machine.

“Fun fact, Gladys. I’m always horny.”

Her laugh is hearty and warm as she tousles my hair. “I believe it.”

“And second of all, that wasn’t porn. It’s an app where people can upload videos of themselves and people pay to watch them.”

“Oh…like porn,” she replies sarcastically. “Is that what you’re going to do for money now?” Then she holds up her hands in surrender. “Hey, no judgment. I support sex workers.”

With a smile, I shake my head. God, I love Gladys.

“Actually…maybe.” My eyes squint with unease as I watch her face for a reaction. I’ve been looking for a new job since I left the club, but no one is hiring at the moment. Instead, I’ve been helping around the Laundromat and Gladys has been flexible with my rent to allow me more time to look.

To my surprise, she only looks mildly uncomfortable with the news that my new job venture might be porn.

“But not by myself,” I continue. “That…new guy I’m seeing—”

“The rich, older one,” she replies.

“Yeah, him. He and I want to make some videos. For…fun.”

Yikes, this feels forced and uncomfortable. Is she even buying any of this? I mean, I did work in a sex club, so it can’t be that much of a stretch for her to see me doing this now.

She’s folding towels as she seems to be mentally chewing on what I’ve just told her. Her face tenses in scrutiny before she glances my way and shrugs.

“Hey, make money with him if you can, I guess. Harold and I used to record ourselves all the time. But he would have never, ever let me post them anywhere. It would have been nice to at least make some money with them.”

“Oooh, so kinky, Gladys. Do you still have them?” I ask with a giddy smile.

“Somewhere in a box, I’m sure. If I die and you find a videotape labeled Hawaii vacation, burn it.”

Gladys and I are both laughing so hard now neither of us hear the front doorbell chime. It’s not until I feel his gloomy presence hovering three feet away that I realize Adam is here. God, his dad really did a number on him last night.

My laughter dies as I turn to stare at him. His sudden presence sends a flutter of butterflies to my stomach because I know exactly what comes next.

“Oh, hi,” I mutter.

“Hi,” he replies flatly.

He’s in a pair of dark-gray joggers and a V-neck T-shirt that hugs his chest and shoulders. His dark hair looks a little wet at the tips like he just got out of the shower and came straight over. I can smell the potent scent of his cologne from here, musky and rich. I don’t know if it’s laced with pheromones or if that’s just the effect of expensive cologne, but it has me noticing just how ridiculously handsome he is today.

And how badly I want to rub my face all over his pecs.

And feel those thick biceps wrapped around me.

Jesus, maybe Gladys was right. I am horny as fuck.

“Ready?” he asks, nodding toward the door. Has he totally forgotten that we’re supposed to be selling it as a couple?

I can feel Gladys staring at me, so I widen my eyes at him, glancing toward Gladys as if to remind him we have an audience.

Instantly, his cold, detached demeanor morphs into a forced smile as he crosses the room. Without warning, he leans down and presses his lips to mine. It’s a quick peck, but it takes me by surprise. As he stands upright, he smiles at Gladys.

“Hi again.”

“Hi again,” Gladys replies with a playful smirk on her face.

“I’ll finish these later,” I tell her as I stand from my chair.

“Go. Have fun,” she says, waving us away.

“Mind if I send Roscoe down?” I ask.

“No, I’ll watch him,” she replies, shooting me a wink. For a moment, I feel terrible about lying to her, even if it is a small, harmless fib.

“Thanks, Gladys!”

Grabbing Adam by the arm, I tug him toward the door leading up to my apartment. He seems as tense as I’m feeling today, which is good, I guess. I don’t want to be the only nervous person in this scenario.

After we reach my apartment, I carry Roscoe down the stairs, hearing Gladys call for him before I set him down and shut him out in the stairwell.

Then it’s just me and Adam alone in my apartment with heavy doses of anticipation and awkwardness.

“Got anything to drink?” he asks.

I scurry toward the kitchen. “Is beer okay?”

“Yes,” he replies as I pull out two, one for each of us.

After a long drink, he looks determined and ready to work. “So, how are we going to do this?”

“Okay, so I’ve been thinking,” I say, pulling out my phone. “We can upload the clips on FanVids—you’ve heard of it, right?”

“That amateur porn app?”

“Yeah. We can start with short clips—fifteen to thirty seconds. Then we share them anonymously on socials and try to get subscribers. Then after it’s created some buzz, we post longer videos. Real videos. Well…real-ish.”

His brows are scrunched together as he stares down at my phone, the FanVids app open to show him how people can scroll the feed. Guessing by the confusion on his face, he’s not familiar with the app and doesn’t quite know how this is going to work, but that’s okay. I’ll handle the distribution; I just need him to be him and play the part.

“So people can see these short clips for free?”

“Basically. But we have to show your face. We need people to see that it’s you.”

As I scroll through the app, video after video popping up, my skin starts to grow hot. Maybe it’s the suggestive nature of the clips, or maybe it’s the realization that we’re about to post stuff like this too. Either way, I’m struggling to even hold still at this point.

“Let’s do it,” he says at last, and I bite my lip as I stare up at him.

Our eyes meet for a moment, and I get a whiff of his cologne again, my body growing excited at the prospect of getting to touch him again. The room fills with tension while neither of us moves.

Finally, I clear my throat and walk toward the couch. His eyes follow me before landing on the tripod I have set up already.

“Have you done this before?” he asks.

“No,” I reply. “Well, not like this. I just bought this because I thought it would make things easier.” Then I show him how I clip my phone onto the tripod and point it at the couch. Suddenly, we have a hands-free device for shooting videos.

He swallows without moving toward me. He’s definitely nervous. “So, now what?”

There’s an audible silence as we each take a long drink of our beer, both of us clearly needing the liquid courage to go through with this. After letting out a heavy sigh, I roll my shoulders back.

If we’re going to do this, we should get it over with, right?

“So I’m thinking for the first clip, we can be on the couch, me straddling you.” I grab the tripod and place it in the center, facing the couch. “Here, sit.”

He hesitates.

Then, after a heavy sigh, he grabs the back of his T-shirt at the nape of his neck and whips it over his head in one fast swipe. I swear my mouth goes dry as I stare at his chest, lightly dusted with dark hair down to the ripples of his abs and the V-shape leading into his gray joggers.

Holy shit, I curse silently in my mind as I stare at him.

“Pants too?” he asks.

I force myself to swallow. “Maybe just…underwear for this shot,” I stammer. “They won’t be in the frame, but even if they are, I’ll be on top of you.” My voice cracks.

Why am I so nervous?

One by one, he slips off his shoes and pulls off his socks. Then he drags his sweats down his legs, and I turn away. Why the hell must Adam Goode be such a perfect specimen of a man? Why can’t he just be as repulsive as his father?

“My turn,” I whisper to myself before I yank my Van Halen T-shirt over my head and slide my shorts off. Suddenly, we’re standing in our underwear, both of us trying to awkwardly cover ourselves as if we haven’t already screwed on this very couch. Why does this feel so much stranger now?

“All right, sit,” I say, pointing toward the sofa. Suppressing his nerves, he rounds the couch and drops down in the middle.

I quickly open the camera app on my phone and aim it at him, making sure to get him centered so his face doesn’t get cut off. I can crop more later.

With that, I climb onto his lap, one leg on each side of his hips. For a moment, my brain seems to short-circuit from this proximity. His face is just inches from mine and he’s definitely sporting a half-staff erection, pressing against my panties.

But I need to stay professional about this. Taking a deep breath, I try to center myself to focus.

Fuck, he smells so good.

“The camera can’t see my face if you’re in front,” he says. Which is a good point—the camera is pointed at the back of my head. So, I grab the tripod and maneuver it to the side, catching us at an angle. I’m still slightly covering his face, but I lean my head back a little so he’s in plain view.

“You’re gonna lean back like that?” he asks with a wrinkle in his brow.

“Umm…no. That’s awkward. Here, grab my hair,” I say, picking up his hand and putting it against the back of my scalp. Immediately, he takes a handful and pulls, so my spine arches and my head hangs.

We both glance at the screen. It’s perfect. Adam is taking up most of the frame, my body only in one-third of the screen, just enough to be suggestive and honestly, hot as hell.

“Okay, so I’m going to press record and we’re going to move like we’re fucking. You keep pulling my hair, but make sure to make a sexy face.”

“A sexy face?” he asks with a laugh.

“Yeah. Don’t just be, like, dead-faced. You need to scowl at me.”

“Scowl at you?”

I let out an exasperated sigh, and he lets go of my hair. “Listen, Adam. If we’re going to do this, you’re not going to fuck me like a good little Christian boy. You’re going to fuck me like you hate me. You’re going to fuck me so dirty your grandkids will have to repent for it. Spit on me. Pull my hair. Slap me around. Make it the dirtiest fucking thing you’ve ever done. Okay?”

His face is frozen for a moment, his pupils slowly dilating, and that half-staff turns into a solid staff—which I guess means he gets the message.

“Okay,” he says with a crack in his voice.

“Okay,” I reply, leaning back to press record.

“Wait,” he says, stopping me. Then he reaches around to my back and with one hand, he quickly pinches the clasp of my bra and it comes free effortlessly. He slides it off before tossing it across the room.

As he glances quickly at my breasts, I feel momentarily ashamed that my nipples are already hard and tight—and have been since he walked into my apartment, looking and smelling so damn good.

Shaking off the embarrassment, I reach behind me and hit record on my phone.

“Action,” I say, turning to face him.

Our first shot is a mess. He fumbles for my hair and I struggle with where to put my hands. I start to bounce on his lap, but my rhythm is off and his thrusts don’t match mine. Nothing about this is hot at the moment.

“Okay, cut,” I say, sitting upright and hitting the red circle on my phone to stop the recording.

“That was terrible,” he replies with a despondent sigh.

“Yes, it was.”

“Will they be able to hear us in the video?”

“I can cover it with music, or we can leave the sound on.”

“Leave it on,” he replies, suddenly looking as if he has a plan of his own.

“Okay… Take two.”

As soon as I hit the red button on my phone, the camera beeps for three seconds before it starts recording. Then, without warning, Adam’s hand is back in my hair, but this time, he pulls so hard I let out a yelp.

His hips jerk upward, sending me toward his chest. Then his mouth is next to my ear.

“Fucking ride it,” he mutters with control. I nearly gasp, just from the shock of his sudden change of demeanor. Where the hell did this come from?

With a bruising grip on my hip, he squeezes me tightly as he guides my movements, bouncing me on his lap.

I’m momentarily struck speechless as another gasp and cry escapes my lips. Because of the angle of my head, I can’t quite see his face, but I don’t need to see to know he’s really in the scene this time. He’s clearly selling it, and I’m caught off guard, so I start to worry if I’m acting the part well enough.

“Faster,” he growls, and my momentum picks up speed.

Fuck, I’m getting so hot from this. It feels…real.

Arousal blooms between my legs every time I land against his hard length, and I feel a slow build toward something that is definitely against the rules, but I can’t help it. The noises coming out of my mouth are not acting. And when the hand in my hair moves until it’s wrapped around my throat, I’m struck silent.

What the fuck is he doing?

And more importantly, why the fuck do I like it?

He yanks my face toward his, putting our lips inches apart as he sneers. “What did you say? You want me to fuck you like I hate you? Well, here you go.”

My eyes are wide as I stare into his, my hands grasping for his arm or shoulder as I keep up the rhythm of my bouncing. I manage one last yelp just before he crashes our mouths together, kissing me hard as he tightens his grip on the sides of my neck.

His tongue invades my mouth, and I forget how to breathe. Melting into the moment, my body tingles with the deprivation of air, and just when I start to feel as if I might pass out, everything stops.

His hand drops and I fall away from his kiss.

I’m gasping for air and waiting for my vision to focus when he says, “That should be enough, right?”

“Huh?”

“Jesus, are you okay? You told me to be rough.”

I feel as if I’m dangling at the top of a roller coaster, waiting for a rush of wind that never comes. Instantly, I snap out of it and turn around to grab my phone to hit stop on the video.

“Um…yeah, that should be perfect.”

With trembling fingers, I replay the video. My heart is still hammering in my chest, and there’s still a slight throbbing need between my legs. The minute Adam leaves, I plan to relieve that. Maybe more than once.

We’re both leaning over the phone to see the video, and it’s only slightly uncomfortable to watch. But it’s honestly…perfect.

His face is so carnal and erotic, nothing like the virtuous church boy we see on TV. And his words are so titillating that every time I rewatch it, hearing him say fucking ride it, I feel my panties moisten more.

“Yeah…” I say, clearing my throat, “I think that will do just fine.”