I Blackmailed Her Brother

by Jessica Frances

  “I swallow—you know that—but not your smoothies!” Nix cries, making the guys chuckle.

  “Is smoothie what he calls his come?” Ava loudly asks Zander, who appears horrified to have been asked.

  “I’ve never heard it called a smoothie before. Is that a thing you guys say?” Teagan asks Joey, who is too busy laughing to give her an answer.

  “I want a banana smoothie! Can you eat bananas first? Does that work?” Ava looks hopefully up at Zander, who is looking rather red in the face now.

  Is he as hot as I feel? Why does alcohol have to make you feel so overheated?

  “That doesn’t work,” Sasha lets Ava down, not that it stops her from pouting.

  “But now I want a banana smoothie. What flavors can you have then?”

  “Harvey makes a vomit one,” Nix complains, leaving the guys laughing. “It’s his hangover cure.”

  “So, you only go down on him when you’re drunk?” Sasha gasps.

  “It’s kind of smart, though, when you think about it. Tell Nix it’s a cure and get something out of it,” Scarlett says, making Harvey redden this time.

  “I don’t tell Nix that—”

  “I don’t mind taking anything Harvey gives me, but that is so gross. It’s the worst thing I’ve put in my mouth,” Nix says.

  “The worst thing? So, you don’t do that, like ever?” Ava gasps, suddenly looking over at Zander who still has her in his arms. “I like going down on you. I feel so powerful. I could probably get you to do anything when I have your dick between—”

  “Fuck, Ava! What the hell!” he groans, turning away from the guys and moving over to the table where coats are piled. “Where is your coat? We’re fucking leaving.”

  “Leaving? Already?” She pouts, but that doesn’t stop Zander from placing her ass on the table then plowing through the coats, searching for Ava’s.

  “If I can avoid it, I do. His smoothies are the worst,” Nix answers her, frowning when Declan and Joey keep chuckling.

  “Nix …” Harvey growls, looking increasingly embarrassed.

  “What?” Nix looks genuinely perplexed.

  “It’s not polite to discuss stuff like that about someone, especially when they’re not only in the room but you’re not exactly making it sound all that great. Not that any of us would feel more comfortable if you were making it sound great.” Teagan worries her lip, seeming more stressed out now. “Actually, discussing blowjobs at all is probably not a good idea. I have to look at Harvey tomorrow on our walk. I’m already going to be thinking about vomit now.”

  “Blowjobs?” Nix asks, sounding genuinely confused. “When did we start talking about blowjobs?”

  “Weren’t we always talking about blowjobs?” Teagan points out.

  “I want a blowjob,” Nix begs Harvey, who is also the same color red as Zander as they both search high and low for their respective partners’ coats.

  There aren’t many of us here; how can they not find them?

  “I don’t understand blowjobs. I mean, penises are so weird,” I say when the silence hits, which gets me either eye rolls or some groans from the guys.

  “I agree,” Scarlett speaks up. “As someone who bats for both sides, penises are not pretty.”

  “Harvey’s dick is beaut—”

  Harvey slaps his hand over Nix’s mouth, though he looks like he is fighting a smile.

  “I’m not sure a vagina is all that attractive,” Teagan states. “One time in college, I had this roommate who wanted to experiment. I said I was game, and we—”

  “What?” Joey shouts, his expression a cross between shock and eagerness. “We’re leaving! You’re finishing this story at home.” He grabs her hand, hauling her out of the house so fast that I feel like I blink once and they are gone.

  “I don’t suppose you have any stories like that?” Declan asks Sasha, only to receive a slap against his chest.

  “No, although I do have some fun self-discovery stories about the first time I masterba—”

  “Everyone out!” Declan yells, literally shoving us when we don’t move fast enough.

  Sasha crosses her arms over her chest. “Dec, you can’t just—”

  “Out!” he rebuts, trying to push us out, although Zander is basically unmovable.

  “Where the hell is Ava’s coat? It’s cold outside,” he growls.

  “Oh, they left their coats in the spare bedroom,” Sasha answers with a smile.

  “Why the hell are these out here?”

  “We’re donating them tomorrow. Thanks for messing the pile up, though.”

  “You could have stopped me,” he barks at her. “You knew what I was looking for.”

  “I know, but then you would have escaped that conversation and it was just too funny.”

  Zander narrows his eyes on Sasha. Whether he plans to say something more or not is unknown, since Declan throws Ava’s coat at his face then hits his head with her bag.

  “Everyone out. My wife is sober, hot, and it’s story time.” Declan shoves the rest of us our coats, except for Teagan’s who wasn’t quite allowed to grab hers.

  The next thing we know, he slams the door in our faces.

  Nix and Ava are barely standing, and I’m not doing much to help Scarlett stay upright. She needs to lean against the wall when we don’t move forward to keep her momentum going.

  I’m not sure how anyone expects us to have the coordination to put our coats on, but holding it seems to be manageable, so I swing both mine and Scarlett’s over my arm and focus on not falling over.

  “So, Joey was our ride. Any other offers?” I ask when it slowly comes to me that our ride home has already driven off.

  “I really need to get back and let the sitter go home,” Zander says to Harvey, who quickly gives him a nod.

  “I think you should come back to ours. You are both drunk, and if something were to happen at your place, neither of you would be in any condition to fight back.”

  I can’t help feeling chastised. Even though the threat feels over, that doesn’t mean it is. I wrongly assumed tonight wouldn’t get out of hand, and then made a bad choice by allowing us to head down that road.

  I know if I refused to drink, no one would have made a big deal about it. I might have been called a lightweight, but it wasn’t like I was forced to drink.

  “Just as long as you’re quiet about giving Nix your smoothie. I hear enough from you two as it is,” Scarlett blurts out, not seeming to care that she just embarrassed Harvey again, going by his reddened cheeks. Or maybe it’s from the cold.

  “I’m not having a vomit smoothie … am I?” Nix glances pleadingly up at Harvey, and I get to see his eyes soften up close when he takes in Nix.

  “We’ll see,” he finally answers Nix, which I think is a parent equivalent of evading answering with a response you know they do not want to hear.

  Nix seems appeased, or maybe he’s just shifted his attention to trying to stay upright as Harvey walks us over to his car.

  I help Scarlett slowly tread over to it, and then I basically push her into the back seat when she looks like she is about to fall asleep on her feet.

  With us safely in the back, I watch as Harvey reaches over and takes Nix’s hand as he drives us back to their place.

  Each time we come to an intersection, I notice Nix’s shoulders tense, his drunk state becoming less obvious as he seems to quickly sober up.

  I wonder if he’s always had a phobia about driving and I never knew, or if this has something to do with what happened last year when they were in a car accident. I’m sure that wouldn’t have helped if he was already hesitant about being in a car.

  I remain quiet in the back, absentmindedly rubbing small circles along Scarlett’s back as she rests her head in my lap, her seatbelt stretched to the max.

  She looks peaceful in my lap, her face lighting up every time we drive under street lights. But then, in the quiet of the car, she lets out a loud snore, the snort feeling so shocking tha
t I jump.

  “Shit, I thought we hit a stray cat or something,” Harvey mutters from the front.

  “I’d say more like an out-of-place dolphin,” I retort.

  He laughs, and even though I’m still rather tipsy, I feel a little proud that I made him laugh.

  We drive the remainder of the way in silence, other than Scarlett’s random wails that I have never heard her make before, and then Harvey and I have the unenviable task of getting our drunken partners up to their apartment. I think I have the tougher job since I’m still smashed myself. Thankfully, we make it with zero hassle, other than a strange look from one of their neighbors.

  When Harvey finally manages to get the door open, needing to use the wall to keep Nix propped up, I get another glimpse inside their apartment.

  Harvey is so walled off that seeing inside his office or home is like getting a sneak peek into his psyche.

  “I forgot how nice this apartment is,” I say, glancing around the clean, open living area.

  There is a small desk in the corner that is full of paperwork, which I assume is Nix’s mess, since Harvey keeps a spotless desk at work. Other than that, the place is tidy with minimal furniture.

  I recall the day Nix moved into Harvey’s place. Teagan arranged us all to help without informing Harvey or Nix. She wanted to do something nice for them, and to make the whole ordeal easy. However, Nix barely had anything in his apartment that needed moving into Harvey’s. He only took three boxes of clothes and shoes, one box of paperwork, and one box of kitchen and bathroom stuff. That was it. So, in the end, we had three burly and revved up men ready and only five boxes. They still made sure to act like helping was a huge inconvenience, along with the customary pretending to struggle carrying a light box. Luckily, it was a fun day and my first time seeing the inside of Harvey’s apartment.

  Even though moving only took about ten minutes, we all stayed for a while, eating pizza and drinking beer. I’m not sure Harvey loved us being in his space, but I know he loved the laughter coming from Nix the whole night.

  “You guys will be moving in to your new place soon,” I say to Harvey as he carefully lets Nix drop to the couch before he helps me move Scarlett next to him.

  “Yeah, just a couple more months now.”

  “You excited?”

  He shrugs, moving into the kitchen and turning on the lights. “I’ll be glad when Nix doesn’t have to commute to work. It will be much safer.”

  I nod, not that he turns back to see it. He’s busy shoving ingredients into a blender. I’m too tired to notice what he’s putting in there.

  “You should make Scarlett rent this place after you leave. She’s living in an awful house right now.”

  I wince when Harvey starts up the blender, not that it’s particularly loud, but the hum grates on my nerves.

  “Brighton Park isn’t so bad.”

  I shake my head. “She moved since then. She’s living in some dump in Pullman.”

  “She moved?” Harvey confirms, turning around to glance at me before his eyes land on the sleeping figure behind me.

  “Yep. That’s why I moved her in with me for the time being. It was a logistical nightmare to even consider getting the place secure. I’m tempted to make her stay with me purely because it isn’t safe even without a possible drug cartel after her.”

  “I wasn’t aware she moved, and I don’t believe Nix was told either.” He frowns. “Do you know why she moved?”

  “She said she needed somewhere cheaper while she paid for her parents to go away.”

  He shakes his head, turning back to the blender that has stopped mixing. “If she had come to us in the first place, we could have protected her and her parents just fine. There was no need for all the secrecy.”

  “She was just trying to protect Nix,” I say defensively. “She felt like he went through enough after all that drama last year with his dad. You can’t blame her for that.”

  “No,” he says in a much softer tone. “Still, we would have helped her.”

  “You are helping her, though I’m not sure any of us will feel that way if you think we’re going to drink that,” I gasp, covering my mouth as the smell gets closer to me.

  He has three glasses wedged between both hands. He places one down on the side table closest to me before taking the other two to the couch.

  Do I smell egg? And ginger?

  What the hell?

  “Trust me; you’ll feel a lot better the sooner you have it.”

  I seriously doubt that, but I’m also not keen on being hungover tomorrow, so I gulp it down, realizing this is definitely Harvey’s vomit smoothie. The taste might actually be worse than vomit, if that’s possible.

  I gag but am able to keep it down, not that I’m sure I should.

  Harvey wouldn’t try to kill us, would he?

  As I ponder that thought, not really seriously considering it, I watch as he cradles Nix’s head, muttering something gently to him. When Nix shakes his head, Harvey coaxes him to drink down the sludge he calls a smoothie.

  Nix moans the whole time, and when he lurches forward, Harvey catches him, gently placing the empty toxic waste glass on the coffee table, and then he basically carries Nix into a room, closing the door behind them.

  I wait a few moments before I realize they aren’t coming back out.

  I’m not sure why I expected a goodnight from Harvey. I have probably spoken to him more tonight than any other time. Usually, he just sits quietly and listens, putting his two cents on things every once in a while.

  I look over to Scarlett, her full glass of awfulness is still waiting for her on the coffee table. I suppose it’s on me to get her to drink it.

  I stumble over to her, feeling dizzier than I did moments before, and collapse next to her.

  “Scarlett,” I whisper, lightly caressing her cheek.

  She stirs a little, but she already looks to be falling back under.

  “Scarlett,” I say a little louder, wrapping my arm behind her back and leaning her forward so we are both sitting up.

  She mumbles something inaudible, and then her eyes slowly crack open.

  “You need to drink this,” I tell her, reaching over to the coffee table, keeping one hand on her back to stop her falling back, and then I move the cool glass to her lips, encouraging her to drink.

  I feel bad that I’m making her drink something so awful, but instead of having to force her to swallow it, she seems to guzzle it all on her own.

  “Scarlett?” I ask, unsure what the hell is happening when she opens her eyes fully and holds the glass up herself, tipping it back so she can get every single drop.

  “That was delicious,” she says, apparently immune to the disgustingness.

  I lean forward, sniffing the glass to be sure she got the same thing we did. It smells just as awful as I remember.

  “You liked that?”

  “Yeah. What was it?”

  “I don’t know. Harvey made it.”

  “Did he make more?”

  “No,” I say with a frown, unable to stop myself from feeling her forehead. It doesn’t appear hotter than normal. “Come on; we need to get to bed.”

  She nods and is able to hold a little more of her weight as I take her into the spare bedroom.

  Since we don’t have any pajamas, and I definitely don’t want to knock on Nix and Harvey’s door to ask if we can borrow a couple of their T-shirts, I strip down to my underwear and do the same for Scarlett.

  “Tonight was fun,” Scarlett murmurs, her eyes closed and her delicious body on display as she rests over the covers.

  Her bra and panties match, a lacy material that I’m desperate to peel off.

  Did she wear this sexy underwear for me?

  “Yeah, it was,” I rasp out, my mouth dry and my head full of impure thoughts.

  “I’m really glad you took me. Everyone was so nice to me.”

  “Why wouldn’t they be nice to you?” I ask, trying to look anywhere but
at Scarlett’s body. I glance around the room, lit up by a lamp on the side table, and wonder over the box sitting in the corner labeled: Do not throw away, Harvey. I mean it.

  Curiosity eats at me, so I tiptoe over to it and open the top to find something that feels like material.

  What is this?

  I pick it up then immediately drop it when I realize there is a fur penis attached to what I think is supposed to be a hot water bottle.

  I definitely don’t want to know what the hell that’s about.

  I close the box back up and am startled when Scarlett speaks.

  “Because I overreacted.”

  It takes me a moment to recall what we were talking about. Then, when her words break through my foggy mind, I hold my breath at her possible insinuation.

  “When did you overreact?”

  She doesn’t answer immediately, and I start to wonder how long I can hold my breath while I wait. I’m already feeling lightheaded, and part of me knows the hope I have building is silly. It’s pointless. And even if this might be about what I want it to be, Scarlett has probably passed out.

  I breathe out, my lungs grateful for the reprieve, and try to bite down on my disappointment.

  “I overreacted about my brother,” she says quietly, her voice partially muffled in the sheets. “I was angry, and I had every right to be angry. But I wish I had listened to your side. I wish I hadn’t been so stubborn.”

  My heart pounds, my legs feel weak, my body is overheating, and my stomach is filled with too much liquid. There is also a part of me that feels sharp, sober, and clear-headed.

  Those were the words I have dreamed of her saying. Actually, I didn’t even dream them, because I didn’t see the point in dreaming of something so impossible. The best I had hoped for was forgiveness. Never did I think Scarlett might share in some of the blame.

  I’m not even sure if that’s right.

  I’m the one who screwed up. Scarlett didn’t do anything wrong.

  “What’s done is done,” I finally say, my voice scratchy before I try to clear the emotion clogging my throat.

  “Yeah, it is. But we have tomorrow and every day after that to make things right.”