The elevator doors open, I look up and step in. When the elevator finally gets to my floor, I get out and walk down the empty hallway to my apartment. I bang loudly on the door of my neighbor as I pass it. I look back when the door swings open and Lewis pokes his head out. He grins at me.
“You coming in? After you made me go to the trouble of answering, you better be,” he warns.
“What? You mean I finally got you off that lazy ass of yours?” I grin.
He opens the door wider, wheeling his chair back far enough for me to squeeze in, then he closes the door and wheels down to the kitchen. I follow, still chuckling over my little play on words back there. I lean against the counter as he opens the fridge, grabbing two sodas. He tosses me one and I flick it open, then take a mouthful.
“You’re so quick with the one-liners.” He grins over his shoulder at me. “Forget property development, Cammy. Your calling was to become a clown.”
“A clown?”
I ignore the fact that he called me Cammy, which he knows I fucking hate with a passion. It makes me feel like a perky blonde cheerleader, which I definitely am not. Aside from the fact that I’m the type of guy you’d find on the football field, kicking the winning goal, I couldn’t cheer to save my life.
“Yes. You’d be a hit at kid’s birthday parties.”
“Yeah, I don’t think so.” I chuckle.
“I’m being serious,” Lewis says.
He wheels over into the living area and hoists himself off his seat and into an armchair. I watch with admiration. The strength he must have in his upper body amazes me.
“Didn’t you hear? Bitter, deadpan clowns are a hit with those hipster, emo type kids.”
“I’m sure they are.” I grin. “But I’ll stick to what I know if it’s all the same to you.”
“Really?” He grins. “I thought you didn’t really know much of anything.”
“Fucking hilarious,” I say.
I started working at Pearson Property Development fresh out of college, five years ago. My second year I brought the highest level of profit into the company in their forty-six-year history. By the end of last year, I’d moved up to the second highest role, with only the CEO above me. The idea of them moving the head office to New York was developed around one deciding factor; that they’d keep the LA office as a second location and I’d be the one running it. At only twenty-seven, it was a pretty impressive accomplishment on my part.
The transition was supposed to have been a smooth one, but it had been anything but. Relocating everything from the office here, to New York had gone to plan, but getting LA ready for operation had run into delay after delay.
I love what I do, I’m damn good at it and I know the market better than anyone. I'm also great at negotiating, which means I get the best deal, every time. But most of all, I’m charming, which means I don’t just win, I do it in a manner that leaves everyone feeling like a winner.
I raise my eyebrows at Lewis. Three in the afternoon and he’s still wearing a T-shirt and boxer shorts?
“Hey, quit making me feel bad,” he protests, glancing down at his attire. “I’m on vacation, remember?”
“Let me guess, you’ve just been sitting around playing Xbox all day?” I chuckle and nod at his legs. “Watch yourself with all that sitting down. They’ll fall off.”
“Many paraplegics would take offense to a comment like that,” he informs me, but his eyes are sparkling as he says it. “You’re lucky I find your fucked-up sense of humor amusing.”
“You’re having a great time, aren’t you?” I clear away enough empty pizza boxes so I can sit down. “You’re not going to want to go back to work at all.”
“Trust me, I am,” he groans. “And it’s only day three. How the hell am I going to handle this for two weeks?”
Lewis had arranged two weeks off his very high pressure, demanding job as a stockbroker, to go on some family vacation his mom pressured him into. However, at the last minute, his dad broke both legs after falling off the roof. He’d decided on the morning they were supposed to leave for vacation, was the perfect day to clean the gutters, which hadn’t been touched in almost twelve years. Lewis found it hilarious that both he and his Dad were in wheelchairs, right up to the point where his boss said Lewis couldn’t cancel his leave.
“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” I assure him. “It’s good to see you’re taking it easy for once.”
“Yeah, the last time I took this long off work was after the accident,” he admits.
A wistful look crosses his eyes as we both just sit there in silence. It feels like so long ago, but it’s only been two years. We’d been at the beach with a group of friends, drinking and having fun, when Lewis and a few of the guys decided to jump off a cliff. Lewis jumped too far to the right and landed on a rocky embankment. Watching his body slide into the rough water was the scariest moment of my life.
When he didn’t surface, I did the only thing I could think of; I dove into that water and kept searching until I found him. He was unconscious, so I dragged him onto the sand and did what I could to revive him. I’d never been so relieved when he spluttered up a mouthful of water. Then he looked up at me and said:
“The lengths you’ll go just to make out with me.”
We both thought that by some miracle, he’d managed to scrape through unharmed—then he realized he couldn’t feel his legs. After a month in the hospital, then another three in rehab until he was back home, but he was paralyzed from the waist down. It was a hard blow for someone who had just been hand selected for the national hockey team.
Lewis living next door to me isn’t an accident. I wanted him to know he always has support, if he ever needs it, but he could still keep his independence. Not that he’d ever ask for help, because he’s the most stubborn bastard I’ve ever met.
“So, what have you been up to?” he asks, dragging me out of my daydream.
“Oh, you know. The usual.” I grin at him. “Chasing perverts away from my stepsister. Well, soon to be stepsister,” I correct myself.
“Ah, the stepsister,” Lewis murmurs. “She’s pretty hot, huh?”
One look at that smirk and I narrow my eyes. I don’t like where this is headed one bit.
“She’s okay,” I answer as casually as I can.
“Come on, man. She’s more than okay.” Lewis chuckles.
I sigh because it’s true.
If there’s one thing I can say about Darcy, it’s that she’s sexy as hell. I pretend I don’t know much about her, or that I don’t care, but when my father proposed to her mom, I was curious about her. Over the course of a few weeks, I learned a lot about my future stepsister and one of my biggest problems with her is that she doesn’t realize how attractive she is. She does these stupid little things for a laugh that are one day going to backfire on her, and she’s going end up seriously hurt.
“Okay,” Lewis says slowly. He grins because he knows this is going to be juicy. “Why did the guy need chasing? You can’t tell me that and not tell me the rest?”
“He was hassling Darcy,” I admit. “She placed some stupid ad and he thought he’d turn up and ‘register’ his interest in a person.”
“What … with no contact?” he laughs. “Who the hell does that?” Lewis chuckles. “Fuck, even you wouldn’t do that.”
“Of course I wouldn’t,” I scoff.
I’m offended he’s even suggesting it. I mean, there was that time I flew to Spain to chase that chick I met outside the airport, but that’s completely different.
“I’m too much of a gentleman.”
I grin at Lewis as he rolls his eyes.
“So?” He presses. “What happened?”
I shrug and lean back against the couch, resting my hands behind my head.
“I had to follow him back to his place.” I chuckle. “Where I discovered he was married with a few kids.”
“Are you kidding me?” he says, laughing. “You are, aren’t you? You’re fee
ling sorry for the poor guy in a wheelchair and inventing some stories.”
“Trust me, even I couldn’t think this shit up.”
I find the ad again, then hand my phone to Lewis.
“Here. Check this out.”
He laughs then glances up at me.
“This has been a joke, right?” he asks. “She wouldn’t place this.”
I smirk. “I’m pretty confident she’s is not responsible for this.”
“Still…” He glances at me, a glint in his eyes. “Hey, do you want to send me the link for the ad?”
“Fuck off,” I say as he chortles to himself.
“Why not?” he reasons. “I’ll do anything twice is very tempting … I can think of a thing or two she can do for me.” He nods at me. “Hey, too bad I didn’t lose a leg in the accident, huh? I hear pegging is quite the rage these days.”
“You’re a sick son of a bitch.” I chuckle.
“The real reason you don’t want me emailing her is because you want her all to yourself,” he teases. “Admit it, man.”
“Fuck off.” I laugh. “She’s about to become family,” I remind him.
“So?” He snorts. “Stop being such a pussy and reply.” He laughs suddenly. “Man, imagine if you did and she didn’t know it was you. She’d freak out, huh?”
She’d be so fucking annoyed …
The more I think about it, the more I like the idea. It’s a terribly bad idea, which is probably why I find it so appealing. I drink down the last of my drink, then toss the can in the trash.
“Okay, I better get home.” I grab my phone on my way past him.
“So you can whack off while thinking about your sister?” he calls out.
“Stepsister,” I correct, opening the door. I wink at him. “And at least mine works.”
“Hey! Mine works too,” he yells after me. “Fucking get back here, and I’ll prove it.”
* * *
I walk into the kitchen and throw a frozen pizza in the oven, which I’ll call dinner later. Lewis’ mom insists on stocking up my freezer with shit like this, mainly because she can’t cook. I guess it’s her way of thanking me for watching out for Lewis, but it’s completely unnecessary. He’s my friend. Of course, I’m going to help him when he needs it. Unless it involves my stepsister.
I grab a drink from the fridge and head out onto my balcony. I sit down and stare at the ad again on my phone. I chuckle, because it’s still funny, even though I’m pretty sure it’s fake. I just can’t see her writing something like this up.
Then again …
Maybe it’s an opportunity to show Darcy how quickly things can go wrong. It’s better she learns that lesson from me, rather than some other creep, right? I rub my jaw. It would be really cruel to reply, not that it’s ever stopped me before.
I click reply and think of what to say. If I were her, I’d be deleting everything, without even reading it, so I need something that’s going to stand out. Something that will catch her attention and make her want to reply. I smile when an idea springs to mind.
Fucking perfect.
Subject: What’s orange and sounds like a parrot?
In the body of the email, I write one, single line.
Want the answer? Text me.
I leave my number and press send, then I sit back with my hands clasped behind my head. I’m pretty proud of myself. What chick can resist a good joke? I glance down at my phone down when it buzzes, and I smile. Faster than I expected but I’ll take it. My good mood fizzles when I see my father’s name. I click on the text.
Dad: I thought we could catch up before you start back at work. Breakfast tomorrow like old times?
Like old times?
That’s fucking rich coming from him. I sigh, remembering that I promised Mom I’d try. For Mack’s sake, at least. I stand up, shoving my phone in my pocket, then I stomp down to my room. I am trying.
I’m trying every day.
Me: Sure. I’ll come over in the morning.
Chapter Four
Darcy
Thank God
I open and close my eyes, just to make sure that it’s really gone. It is. It took them long enough, but they finally got their shit together and deleted it. Smiling, I lie back in my bed and sigh. It’s finally over.
Or at least it will be, once I sort through the fifty or so emails that came in overnight. It’s like all the creeps come out to play once midnight, Saturday morning hits. I open my email and delete, delete, delete. I don’t even read them. I get to the last few and pause. Every email is titled Hello or something as equally generic. Except for this one which reads:
What’s orange and sounds like a parrot?
With a title like that, how can I not open it? I click open and laugh when there’s one single line.
To get the answer, you’ll have to text me.
Or I could just google it. I copy the phone number and open a new text. It’s barely eight in the morning but what the hell?
Me: Text you for the answer, huh? Or I could just Google it. But, you got me to do something two hundred other people couldn’t, so okay, I’ll bite. What is it?
Anon: You bite too? You should’ve put that in your ad—which I’m pretty sure is fake, by the way. Back to the biting, though. It’s a whole other demographic you could’ve tapped into. The answer? Carrot. But I bet you did Google it…
I smile and shuffle up the bed so I’m sitting with my legs crossed, then I type back a response.
Me: Funny. With lines like that, you should be in comedy. And yes, I Googled it.
Anon: You know what? That’s not the first time my comedic abilities have been acknowledged, so thank you. So, Furries, huh? Should I be locking up my toy collection?
Me: After that comment, I’m rethinking engaging you.
Anon: We’re engaged? Shit. I haven’t even introduced you to my parents. I don’t even know your name.
Me: Darcy. Do I get to know yours? And I’m sure your parents will love me. Well, either that or they’ll hate me.
Anon: I’m James.
Me: Hi James. So, you think my profile is a fake? That’s a risky assessment to make. What if it’s not?
Anon: Did I offend you?
Me: No. But I’m sure you will.
Anon: It’s like you know me … wanna be friends?
Me: How do you know I’m not a middle-aged man with a beer gut who still lives in his mom basement?
Anon: How do you know that’s not what I’m hoping for?
I giggle to myself as I walk downstairs and into the kitchen. I stop in my tracks when I see Cameron sitting there. He’s the last person I expected to see sitting at the table.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Breakfast with Dad,” he explains. “Well that was the plan. Only he forgot to tell me he was called in for an early meeting. On a Saturday, no less.” He reaches over and slaps Mack on the back. “But it doesn’t matter. I still get to spend some time with my favorite brother.”
“Coffee?” I ask while grabbing a cup for myself.
“No. Caffeine will keep me up all day and night.” He winks at me. “It’s also notorious for keeping me awake.”
“Good one.” Mack guffaws, slapping himself on the leg.
“God, don’t encourage him,” I groan.
“It’s sweet of you to call me God, but Mack will do just fine,” he says with a straight face.
“Fuck, you’re both as bad as each other,” I groan.
“Darcy.” I turn to Cameron, who is nodding at his brother. “Really? Cussing in front of a twelve-year-old?” he shakes his head. “I expected more from you.”
“Are you kidding me?” I laugh. “Have you heard some of the shit that comes out of his mouth?”
“He’s a child who doesn’t know any better,” Cameron mocks. He turns back to Mack. “So, Mack Attack, what’s been happening?”
I turn back to making my coffee, tuning out of their conversation behind me. Until Mack turns i
t into one about me.
“Well. I don’t the full story, but the gist of it is Darcy’s into having sex with guys, while they’re dressed as Care Bears.”
“Mack, you little shit,” I hiss. I lunge for him, but he ducks out of my grasp and runs out of the room, laughing hysterically.
“So, is it strictly Care Bears you’re into or will any childhood toy satisfy?” Cameron asks. He raises his eyebrows. “Because I’m pretty sure I’ve still got a Winnie the Pooh costume somewhere at my apartment.”
“Of course you do.” I plant my hand on my hip and smile sweetly at him. “Because what grown man over the age of twenty-five doesn’t have a Winnie the Pooh costume hanging in their closet?”
Mack pokes his head around the corner.
“Hey, Cam,” he says casually. “If you happen to have that old Winnie the Pooh costume lying around, do you mind if I borrow it?”
Cameron starts to laugh. I narrow my eyes at him and then turn my glare onto Mack.
“Go,” I order. “Both of you. Get out.”
Mack shrugs innocently. “What did I say?”
“If you’re not leaving then I am,” I say, flouncing out.
* * *
After the nightmare that was breakfast, I escape to my room as quickly as I can, which means I’ll get to work nearly forty minutes early. It’s still a better option than spending those forty minutes sitting in the kitchen with Cameron Hunter. I shake my head because I can’t even think about him without getting worked up. He irritates me so much.
I quickly finish getting ready, so I can leave for work. Even though I’m going to be early, it beats hanging around here, waiting for time to pass.
Me: So, aside from someone who trawls personal ads, who are you?
James: Aww, you want to spoil the fun already?
Me: Sure, it’s fun till I end up on some C grade TV show, chasing you and your seven cats around a warehouse because you’ve been catfishing me.
James: Well that’s a little farfetched. I’m allergic to cats.
PAYBACK’S A BITCH Page 4
