CHAPTER SIX
Lauren
I was really nervous. Tonight was our fifth high school reunion, and the dress I’d picked out suddenly seemed too revealing.
“You think it’s okay?” I twirled in the mirror, looking at myself doubtfully. “It seems a little tight suddenly.”
“You look fine,” soothed my friend Gemma. “Heck, if I had your body I’d be wearing shit like that every day!”
Gemma was the one friend from high school I’d kept in touch with. Call it the Losers Club, but Gemma and I had been equally clutzy at sports, gawky and awkward. We’d preferred to hang out at the library, studying and chatting.
The dress in question was ridiculous, there was no way I was letting Gemma tell me otherwise. Pink and tight, it hugged my curves, showing off my tiny waist and ample backside. Plus, the strapless neckline showed off my décolletage to the fullest, like two scoops of creamy vanilla pudding ready to taste.
I shook my head.
“No way, I can’t,” I said, stepping out of the dress. “It’s way too flirty, and I have a career. Serious professionals don’t wear stuff like this.”
“Oh lighten up,” said Gemma. “One, you’re not at work, and two, don’t you want to make an impression? I guarantee that a lot of folks are going to look old and washed out. Don’t you want to make them look bad by comparison?”
The sad thing is, she was probably right. Since arriving back in Farmingdale two days ago, I’d seen a couple people I thought I knew. I say “I thought I knew” because they were so transformed as to be unrecognizable. Lizzie Smith, the resident queen bee, was downright haggard, while her best friend, Kacey Manken, had frizzy hair and a generally dowdy look. What had happened to the popular girls? I guess the shine had rubbed off.
Meanwhile, the Losers Club, meaning me and Gemma, had seen some real improvement. Before, I used to be a beanpole. I was literally five foot ten and weighed something like a hundred pounds, people used to think I was sick, I was so skinny. But at college, I’d put on weight in all the right places and was now curvy and fun, with real boobs and an ass that wiggled.
Gemma had also changed for the better too. Her skin had cleared up, and she had an interesting, edgy style that was all her own. She worked as a stylist in New York, serving some A-list celebrities. It’s funny … you would think that a stylist wears cute and funky outfits, but instead Gemma dresses in all black. She says it’s not to offend the sensibilities of the “artistes” she clothes.
But back to the pink dress … Gemma was a professional in the fashion industry, so maybe she was right. Maybe the revealing outfit was just what I needed to make an impression. Because there were two people that I especially wanted to see tonight … Christian and Croyden, my twin stepbrothers.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Christian
Ah, fuck it. It was just a high school reunion. Sure, my brother and I were about to make our triumphal appearance, but the truth is that we really didn’t care. High school seemed so long ago, the ups and downs so lame in retrospect.
Because my brother and I are reality stars now. We have a show on TV called House Emergency, where we work with couples to buy the fixer upper of their dreams and then renovate on a sensible budget. I’m the broker, taking buyers around to potential homes, and Croy is the builder, overseeing construction.
It was kind of a circuitous path to reality TV stardom. I dropped out of Princeton, deciding to focus on acting and modeling. I did okay, but not great. I mean, I’m a good-looking guy, but in Hollywood, everyone’s good-looking.
Croy, meanwhile, stayed in school and renovated houses in his spare time. He got to be really good at it, and was known around town as Mr. Fixer-Upper, the dude who could turn a dump into a castle. One day I mentioned that I had an identical twin to an agent, and her jaw dropped. When I added that he was a rugged, do-it-yourself type of guy, she ran and got her boss and they were ready to book us immediately.
So that’s how Croy and I got our own TV show. With our combined talent and a stroke of luck, we’re now a hit show on the Home Starz channel. I love it. I love being a real estate broker, but I also love being on TV.
Because that’s the thing. We get so much attention now, we’ve been dubbed the “Building Brothers,” and women follow our every move, their devotion astounding. At first, it was older, middle-aged women, the type who watch Home Starz channel non-stop, but now it’s cute, younger women too, ones we’d actually want to fuck.
So it’s fucking awesome. This high school reunion is way beneath us now, we wouldn’t even go if we hadn’t been filming nearby. But I admit … there’s a niggling curiosity that’s gone unanswered for years now. We haven’t seen our stepsister for ages, and her name was on the list of attendees. She was pretty back then, gawky and long-legged, like a newborn colt. I wonder if she still is?
CHAPTER EIGHT
Lauren
Taking a deep breath, I walked into the ballroom of the hotel. Yep, this was definitely it. Cheesy balloons floated, streamers waved from the ceilings, and vases of flowers in coordinating pink and yellow were scattered randomly. A big “2010” in glittery all-caps letters was pasted to the wall. Alright, I could already see that they had gone low-budget on the decorations. Hopefully they hadn’t skimped on drinks as well.
I scanned the room, my eyes immediately searching for my brothers, but no such luck. Oh bummer. I felt oddly deflated, although I scolded myself for my disappointment. This event wasn’t supposed to ride on Croy and Christian, remember? I’d spent five years on my own, it wasn’t all up to my stepbrothers anymore.
But Gemma was on a mission. She grabbed my elbow painfully, hissing, “Come on, I see those bitches Katie and Laney. Let’s go,” she commanded, dragging me over.
Katie and Laney? I didn’t know them but plastered a fake smile on as we neared two middle-aged women. Oh shit, suddenly I remembered. Katie and Laney were girls who’d been mean to me in Biology, saying shit like, “I think it smells in here,” and “Did someone fart?” sniffing in my direction.
Well, life had definitely worn them out. They were each about thirty pounds overweight, their arms flabby with poochy stomachs straining against way-too-tight dresses. Suddenly, I realized I looked ten times better in my pink dress and coordinating heels.
“Hey Katie, Hey Laney,” purred Gemma, her voice like liquid silk. Gemma of course was wearing all black, but she’d punched it up with funky jewelry and accessories. “It’s so great to see you again, you look amazing,” she lied, her voice so smooth it could freeze ice.
The two women looked stunned.
“I’m sorry, you are …?” the blonde one asked.
“Gemma,” said my friend, her tone filled with poison. “You pissed in my Gatorade, remember?”
The blonde’s chubby arm flew to her mouth, her eyes big and round.
“Oh my god!” she gasped. “I’m so … I’m so …”
“Sorry?” said Gemma silkily. “It’s too late for that, but let me help you with your drink,” she said. And with that, she bumped the plump woman, causing her wine to spill and stain her dress.
“No worries, you won’t die, like I almost did from drinking urine,” said Gemma nastily. “A good trip to the drycleaners is all you need,” she sneered as the women scurried off, looking like scared chickens.
“Man that was harsh Gemma!” I remarked, wondering if anyone witnessed the incident.
“Yeah, I know,” said Gemma. “But I had to go to the hospital after drinking Katie’s piss! They forced me, putting urine into my bottle and holding me down until I swallowed,” she said, anger and tears darkening her eyes.
I remembered now, how awful it was for us back then, how our study session had been called off by her impromptu illness. Somehow my own memories were starting to come back, and I gasped when I saw a familiar face. It was Troy, the dude from the lacrosse team who’d called me a whore. I, too, felt an unfamiliar rush of anger. I hadn’t thought about this shit for so lon
g, but now that I was here, in the vicinity of my former oppressors, I too felt a need for revenge, a need to be mean and spiteful.
I sauntered over to Troy, my walk graceful and seductive at once. The washed-out woman beside him was probably his wife but whatever, it was just going to make things better.
“Heya Troy,” I purred, running my finger along his shoulder. “Remember me?”
Troy was a fucking meathead who had probably had too many concussions over the years. It was clear that he remembered nothing, and didn’t even recognize me.
“I’m Lauren, Christian and Croy’s sister?” I said silkily. “You came over to our house and fucked some whores, do you remember?”
His wife gasped, a pasty white hand covering her mouth. She was dowdy in a blue floral dress, with greasy, greyish hair. The perfect complement to Troy, who was your typical former athlete – still refrigerator sized, but a refrigerator of fat, not muscle.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he slurred. Judging from his blood-shot eyes, he was already drunk on the weak punch. “Besides, where yer brothers anyways? Those motherfuckers are on TV now, they gotta remember their old friend Troy.”
Man, what a sad sack of shit this guy was, his belly like a huge beast trying to crawl out of his button-down. But I’d heard something that piqued my interest.
“Christian and Croy are on TV?” I asked curiously. “What show? What do they do?”
I didn’t have a TV, so this was new to me. I popped a glance at Gemma, but she shrugged, saying, “I only work with A-list stars.”
Exasperated, I turned back to Troy.
“What do you know about Christian and Croy?” I demanded impatiently.
“Aren’t you their sister?” he slurred, eyeing me up and down, draping an arm around his wife’s shoulders. “Shouldn’t you know?”
“Fuck you,” I spat. “Give it up.”
Troy looked like he was about to walk away, but maybe he had a lucid moment.
“Christian and Croy are reality TV stars!” he crowed. “They’re on every week on some home and garden-type shit, planting weeds or fixin’ dinners or somethin’.”
Okay, clearly this wasn’t going to get me very far. I was about to whip out my phone to do some digging, when suddenly the double doors opened and a hush descended across the ballroom.
In walked my gorgeous, arrogant stepbrothers … and their eyes found mine immediately.
CHAPTER NINE
Croy
“Hey buddy!” I said with fake enthusiasm, slapping Troy on the back.
We’d immediately seen Lauren. Or Lauren Version Two, would probably be more appropriate. She was completely different from the beanpole teen we’d humiliated so many times. Instead of a toothpick frame, the woman before us had gorgeous curves, a full, bodacious bosom narrowing to a tiny waist, plus hips that swung and taunted a man. And shit … that dress hugged every inch of her figure, making us pant for more.
I’d heard Christian gasp involuntarily when we saw her, she was so fucking gorgeous, and even now, I could feel blood rushing down, filling my prick so that it was semi-hard. Fuck, I’m around starlets all the time, and yet … one look at my sister and I was getting a stiffy in public?
“Hey Chris … Hey Croy,” greeted Troy. “GO BEAVERS! BOOYA!” he yelled, pumping a fist, looking for other members of the lacrosse team. It was sad, really, how some people peaked during high school. But Chris and I weren’t here to re-live lacrosse memories.
“Hey sister,” I greeted Lauren, letting my gaze run over her figure again. She flushed, a beautiful pink staining her cheeks, her complexion a perfect peaches and cream.
“Hello,” she said quietly.
“Hi!” interrupted her friend. “I’m Gemma,” she said, sticking out her hand.
Oh right. I remembered Gemma now, the girl with bad skin. Well, at least that’d cleared up, although she was dressed in a black garbage sack, no doubt from some famous designer.
“Hey hey hey!” boomed Troy again. “How are the reality TV stars?” he roared. Man, Farmingdale was already getting on my nerves, and we’d only been back two minutes.
“TV is good,” said Christian smoothly. “I’m a licensed real estate broker, and I help buyers find homes which they then renovate under my brother’s guidance. It’s a good gig, and our clients come out really happy,” he added.
“Any cameras here?” chuckled Troy, ducking his head in weird directions as if to avoid a camera lens.
“No, we’re not shooting today,” said Christian. “Besides, we wouldn’t want to pass out waivers to everyone,” he added, nodding to the gathering crowd.
“I wanna be on TV!” thundered Troy. “You owe it to me! Thunder buddies for life!”
Okay, at this point, it was getting out of hand. Troy was clearly really drunk, and even his wife was trying to get him to calm down, grabbing his arm while whispering ineffectively.
But before anyone could hustle him away, Troy went overboard.
“Yah fuckers, remember that party we had at your house with the whores? The whores you fucked? And then her …” he said pointing at Lauren. “She fell on the ground with her panties down, her fingers buried in her pussy? Remember that?” he yelled, loud enough for the crowd to hear.
Lauren’s lower lip started to tremble and her eyes to fill with tears. Fuck this shit. Seeing our step vulnerable and humiliated … I don’t know, it really disgusted me now.
“Shut up motherfucker,” I growled, my stance threatening. Beside me, I could feel Christian tensing as well. We’re six-four and muscular, so it wasn’t exactly an empty threat. “Shut the fuck up,” I said for emphasis.
“Yeah, yeah,” replied Troy. “We’re leaving,” he muttered, turning to go. I calmed, thinking the storm was over. But at the last moment, Troy reached over and slapped Lauren, his hand hitting her face with a loud SMACK.
“That’s for being a whore,” he raged.
It was too much. Christian and I launched ourselves at Troy, pummeling our former friend, the meatsack like a bag of flabby, sickening fat. At first, he tried to fight back, but he was simply too out of shape, and we began beating him, knocking his head to the floor, kicking his ribs, and punching whenever possible.
“Stop! Stop!” shrieked Troy’s wife, trying to pull us off. Maybe it was the fact that she literally put herself in harm’s way, or the fact that Troy was on the ground cowering, not even trying to fight back. But my brother and I pulled off, straightening our clothes as we caught our breaths, looking with disgust at the pathetic figure curled on the floor.
“Shut the fuck up, motherfucker,” I grunted to silent form.
Troy twitched a bit, his teeth broken and jagged, blood streaming around him.
“Fuck you pretty boys,” he mumbled, barely understandable. And that just made me kick him again.
CHAPTER TEN
Lauren
I awoke in a hospital room, the hum of machines in the background. Gemma came into focus slowly, her image sharpening from a blur.
“Honey are you okay?” she rushed. “You’re going to have a shiner,” she said, shaking her head and clucking.
What the fuck had happened? And then I remembered. We’d gone to the reunion to dazzle, but it had completely backfired. Instead, it was like re-living the worst of the worst. Not only had I been called “whore” in front of everyone, but it had gone down in front of my stepbrothers for a wonderful first impression.
“Oh god,” I murmured. My head pounded and the left side of my face hurt, but otherwise I was okay. “Hand me a mirror?” I asked.
I looked at myself and fortunately, it wasn’t so bad. Yeah, I’d have a bruise, but right now my eye was just yellowish-green. I could go to work on Monday.
As if reading my mind, Gemma said, “No way you’re going to work! Your brothers paid for a private room at the hospital and want you to get the best medical care.”
I looked around and realized that I was in a plush suite reserved for
VIPs. There were flowers in a vase, and the walls were a pale peach, instead of institutional green or hospital white. Soothing music played, and the sheets were soft with a high thread-count, not stiff, starchy linen.
“Oh god,” I moaned again. “Where are Christian and Croy?” I asked.
“Outside,” said Gemma. “They’ve been waiting for you to wake-up and wanted you to have a bit of privacy. But Lauren,” she said in a whisper. “I think you should be nice, they’re paying for all this and they’re gorgeous and famous!” she said with a wink.
“Oh my god, you’re gross, they’re my brothers!” I said hotly, my face flushing.
“Whatever, it’s not like you’re biologically related,” she said breezily. “Anyways, I’m gonna roll now, Christian, Croy!” she called down the hall, opening the door. “Lauren’s awake!”
And the big frames of my brothers filled the doorway, massive and imposing. It was my first chance to look at them, really look without the crush of the crowd around us. If they’d been good-looking as teens, then they were drop-dead beautiful men. Jade green eyes flashed, coupled with hair as dark as night. Plus, they’d filled out, their perfectly cut suits hanging off of muscular frames. My brothers had become alpha males, dominant and imposing.
“Hey sis,” said Croy. “How’re you feeling?”
“I’m good,” I mumbled. Suddenly I felt compelled to apologize. “I’m so sorry about what happened, I can’t believe … after so many years …” my voice trailed.
But Christian shushed me and rested his hand on mine, the contact electric. I could feel tingles all the way down to my toes, my nipples hardening at the brush of those massive fingers. What would they feel like on my body?
“Sister, we wanted to,” he said simply. “What that motherfucker was saying … it simply wasn’t true. Plus,” he said, “He’s just jealous as fuck that he doesn’t have a sister as pretty as you,” he smiled.
DOUBLE DONKEY: A Twin Stepbrother Sports Romance (with BONUS book Twin Stepbrother Celebrity) Page 12
