Stanton's Sins

Chapter 2

2

Stanton twisted the key to the lock of the door of his luxury apartment and paused in the quiet hallway. It was too quiet. Back at Tully, there was always some kind of noise. Employees or residents walking by his door, the muted sound of people talking in the courtyard out back during the evening, where people smoked in the freezing weather.

Shoving the door open, he halted. Huh. The lights were still on. Whoosh. The leather swivel armchair by his desk rotated.

Cornell.

A grin broke over his face.

Cornell was seated, forearms draped on the armrests, sporting a bright, wide smile. “Welcome home, brother,” he said as he stood up. Crossing the living room, he grabbed Stanton’s shoulder, clasped his hand, and gave him a man hug.

Stanton returned the embrace with relief. “Glad to see you. What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t think I’d let you come home and mope around alone, did you?” Cornell drawled. “What kind of friend would that make me?”

“A sane one,” he retorted.

“Didn’t want you coming back to an empty apartment, and while I love Marie, I wasn’t about to spend four hours traveling back and forth to pick you up. Especially since I’m certain the last half hour was an all-out attempt to convince you to stop to see your father.”

“You know her too well.”

“It’s been a decade.”

“True that,” Stanton replied, with a smirk. Cornell was his first-year roommate at Yale, and they’d been inseparable through college and law school. Although visits to Cornell’s family in the suburbs of New Jersey were far more enjoyable, Cornell had visited him during many summer vacations. A head poked out from the white leather couch of his loft. Seconds later, a little body hurled into Stanton’s legs, causing him to take a step back and clutch onto the little boy’s shoulders.

Cornell crossed the living area toward the kitchen. Over his shoulder, he said, “Wesley couldn’t let his favorite person in the whole wide world come home alone. Hungry?”

Stanton sniffed the air and recognized the aroma of Cornell’s famous pasta recipe. His stomach rumbled. “I could eat.”

“My famous carbonara sauce,” Cornell confirmed. “How about I make my tagliatelle? I brought the white truffles that just came in from Umbria through special delivery to make a quick sauce.”

“It’s my favorite,” replied Wesley from below. Casting a glance down, his heart melted when the boy said, “Uncle Stanton, I missed you.”

Stanton broke into the first smile of the day. “I missed you too, buddy,” he replied and gave his tousled hair a ruffle. “Your dad’s recipe is my favorite as well. You know nothing is as good as his cooking. Even your grandma’s.”

“Hush, don’t talk nonsense,” Cornell laughed. “Go on and change.” Flicking his finger in Stanton’s direction, he noted, “I know you wore that for your mother. Wesley, let go of

Stanton. He needs to freshen up.”

Wesley’s eyes lit up. “Yay! I got three new killer Pokémon cards since you left. I’ll lay them out on the table, and I’ll teach you all about them.”

Shaking his head, he said, “Sounds good,” and rolled his luggage into his bedroom. After emptying it, he took a quick shower and donned a pair of sweats and a soft, worn Legal Aid T-shirt. Ambling back into the main living area, he followed the scent of garlic, butter, and white wine simmering in his kitchen.

Cornell glanced up from the stove. “I’d offer you wine, but I don’t think that’s in your purview right now.”

“Nah, I’m not touching any mood-altering substances for the next ninety days. To start with. But, go ahead and drink. It doesn’t faze me. You know, alcohol wasn’t my weakness.” And Cornell also knew why. Once upon a time, it had been his father’s great weakness.

Nodding, Cornell went to the fridge and opened a bottle of white pinot grigio. Reaching for a wine glass, he poured a little, swirled it around, and tasted before pouring himself a full serving. Turning back to the cutting board, he asked, “So. What’s your next move now that you’re out? By the way, I’m proud of you, man. You did right by yourself.”

“You don’t need to say that. I know it was pretty ugly in the end,” his voice dipped low so that Wesley couldn’t hear.

“Which is why it makes what you did all the braver. It’s not like I’m not familiar with the ravages of addiction in my own family.”

“You saved my life, Cornell,” he returned soberly.

“Please, don’t go making me sound like a hero. You did the hard work and it’s nowhere near over.”

“You saw the signs before anyone else and confronted me enough times that I was willing to listen once my mother and sister found me.” Stanton swallowed.

“Shut up, man. I didn’t do anything special. If you want to do me a solid, then don’t fall back into that hole. You’re like a brother to me, and I’m not feeling another funeral. Anyway, I bet you suffered long and hard from being away from court for a month. I bet you’re in no hurry to miss any more work.”

Stanton gave a fake shudder. “Christ, that’s an understatement. Day in and day out, talking about how I messed up my life, talking about my father. And Jax. If that wasn’t repentance, then I don’t know what is. Oh, that reminds me, I have to text Gregory, my sponsor.” He went over to his bedroom for his cell phone. Back on the high stool of the bar that separated the kitchen and living room, his fingers flew over his phone and he hit send.

“Is he cute? Your sponsor?”

Laughing, Stanton rolled his eyes. “You’re already married.”

“I like to check out the competition to gloat about how hot my man is. So sue me.”

“If only you had taken me up on my offer that one night,” Stanton joked in a wistful tone.

“First off, you were drunk and not at all serious.”

“So you keep reminding me. Again and again and again…”

Cornell leaned over and whispered, “You like the taste of pussy too much to give it up. Even for me.” He winked. “I see you, Stanton. Be an ally all you want, but you’re as straight as the edge of this knife.” He held up the paring knife he was using on the white truffles. “Every time you’re unhappy, you wanna be my bitch, but you forget your love affair with pussy. How’d it work for you last time you denied yourself, hmm?”

He winced. Truer words were never spoken. He was a pussy man. Loved licking pussy. Might sound crude, but he didn’t give two fucks. He loved every aspect of fucking, but, speaking for himself, going down on a woman was the most intimate of acts. Each time he did it for a woman he felt something for, it was a step into his heart. He hadn’t been able to do that with Sage. He was already halfway in love with her at the time. His father expected him to be in a committed relationship with her, even if he’d been particularly unsuited for it. Resentful, he refused to do the unthinkable and relinquish what little control he had by falling for her. If he’d been insane enough to go through with their wedding, they would’ve been fucked for life.

Stanton shuddered internally. Christ, what he’d had to suffer to refrain from going down on her. One of the biggest lies he’d told Sage was that going down on a woman was disgusting and unmanly. At the time, he had no choice but to lie. If he’d licked her pussy, he would’ve been a dead man walking. But there was a cost, because every damn night he’d lain beside her in bed, bright-eyed and fists clenched, imagining how wet he could make her. It was a living hell. Worse still, his sacrifice didn’t do the trick. Each time he felt himself slipping into love, he panicked and cheated on her with another woman. It was no wonder that she’d fallen for a man who was the exact opposite of him in every way. The president of a biker gang. He snorted. Jesus. He’d pushed her into that. He caught a lucky break with Melanie, his second fiancée. It was no hardship fucking her, but she was always more of a friend.

“Alright, point taken,” he muttered. “Speaking of pussy, my sponsor said I can at least go back to that.”

Cornell guffawed. “He must not know how addicted you are.”

Stanton’s voice resumed its normal volume. “Okay, okay, settle down. No need to be crude.”

Tossing the egg pasta into a pot of boiling water, Cornell’s only response was an unimpressed “Mm-hmm.”

“You know what they tell addicts?” he asked Cornell.

“Which part? Gone to enough meetings for family and friends of alcoholics that I can probably guess, but give me a clue.”

“Don’t take on too much. Put your effort into battling one demon at a time. That’s why you see so many addicts smoking outside Alcoholics Anonymous meetings. This is my version of smoking, because the one thing I cannot do is fail and pick up hard drugs again.” Turning to face Cornell, he declared solemnly, “I can’t go back there and do that shit again. Wasn’t just the physical withdrawal. I went all in. Did everything that was asked of me. Did all their damn suggestions,” Stanton made air quotes around the last word.

Cornell clapped his hand on Stanton’s shoulder. “I believe in you, brah.”

Stanton nodded tightly and swallowed around the lump in his throat.

Nodding toward the living room, Cornell said in a voice loud enough to reach Wesley, “Go put on the TV. The Yankees are playing tonight.”

“Yankees! Whoo-hoo!” shouted Wesley as he rushed to grab the remote control. “I can show you my Shadow Lugia card. It’s the strongest card I have. We can play a game and I’ll beat you just like the Yankees is gonna beat the Cardinals.”

Stanton groaned. He and Cornell had a notorious rivalry between the Yankees and the Mets. “He’d be the perfect child, the son I will never have, except for this one glaring delusion about the Yankees. Did I do something to you when I was high that I don’t remember? Is this torture some form of payback?”

“No, this is called a lesson in baseball. Maybe now that you’re not in a drug fog, you can pay attention and learn how the game is really played. By the best of the best.”

“The best,” Stanton scoffed, as he flicked through the channels. “In your dreams, bro.” He loved himself an underdog. Little had he known, he’d end up being one. But, in terms of recovery, he’d do a Daryl Strawberry. Each day he didn’t pick up was a home run.