I sighed, and pulled my baby closer. I wasn’t sure what was next in life. I’ve been treading water, letting my body recover after pregnancy, focusing on taking care of myself and my daughter. But I’m alone, and it’s scary being nineteen with a baby. The woman I’d stayed with initially, the one Troy and Tyler had hooked me up with, turned out to be witchy and evil.
“The mother doesn’t condone what you’ve done,” she said, eyeing my belly when I was pregnant.
I was confused. What mother? What was she talking about?
“The Earth Mother knows,” she said ominously, swinging an incense censer, blowing smoke my way. I clapped my hand over my nose, afraid of harming my fetus. I mean, I know that it was probably harmless plant material, but you couldn’t be too careful. And her insinuations became untenable.
Minerva (as she called herself), continued to give me dirty looks, focused on my belly, her comments growing more pointed.
“The Earth Mother knows that that child was conceived out of sin,” she murmured, making a warding gesture.
I’d gasped. Did Minerva know that my brothers were the fathers of my child? How would she know? There was no one who would have told her … or so I thought.
But instead of trying to solve the mystery, I moved out asap. I rented a tiny saltbox of a house near the lake, and hauled garbage bags full of stuff to the new digs, heaving and panting with my big belly in the way.
And shit, it was fucking hard. After a day of moving, I’d sat on one of the garbage bags and cried, hot tears rolling down my cheeks. I cursed my brothers for leaving me, and yet at the same time, missed them desperately. I needed their warm arms, their big bodies, their comforting words, and instead, I was in Michigan, alone and eight months pregnant, about to deliver their child.
Even if they’d gotten off scot free with respect to the Haley trial, where did that leave me? The trial was over now, so why was I still alone?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Tyler
I looked through pictures of Annie, her resemblance to myself and Troy unmistakable. She was chubby and smiling in just about every photo, her blue eyes wide and amazed with every new experience. Gorgeous, like her mother.
It was fucking disgusting that my brother and I hadn’t visited her yet. But things are so fucked up right now that we didn’t wanted to risk dragging Annie and Krissy into this cesspool, this shit that was raining down on us.
Not only had we lost Club Luxe, but we’d been forced to give up most of our other holdings as well. Now we were surviving with only one operation, Bar Brass, a totally legit outfit, all licenses in place, everyone legal, etc.
Because that’s something that the public never realizes about trial. Sure, the focus was on Governor Haley and his slimy ways, but the average person never realizes that minor players get dragged through the mud as well, taking time off work to testify, paying for expensive legal counsel, or in our case, losing our businesses.
Okay, so maybe my brother and I aren’t exactly the most innocent parties. After all, we were providing the governor with girls. But fuck! Losing all of our businesses except one? Fuck this shit.
Rachel strolled into Bar Brass, her hair loose and wavy. Was it my imagination, or was she wearing some seductive clothing? But I shook my head. She was a bartender, and bartenders need to dress sexy to get better tips.
But she had on slutty fuck-me heels, shit that was hard to move around in. I figured she’d change her shoes before her shift started because one, it can be fucking slippery behind the bar and I don’t want to see my workers’ comp shooting up, and two, no one bartends in high heels, it’s too fucking painful when you’re on your feet the whole night.
“We expect a lot of people tonight?” she purred throatily.
Rachel had been a life saver. She was the one who tipped us off to the feds, who advised us to turn government witness in order to save ourselves. She knew a lot for someone who had never graduated high school, but hey, streets smarts are worth their weight in gold.
“Nah, maybe three hundred at the door,” I growled. Business hadn’t been great, but three hun was a respectable number. We’d survive.
“Oh great,” she tossed off casually. “Troy coming in tonight?”
“Yeah, he should be here,” I rumbled.
“Wonderful, I’ll catch you guys then,” she said, before prancing off to the women’s restroom. I watched her ass jiggle for a moment, but then shook my head, resolutely turning back to the spreadsheets laid out on the bar.
But the bounce in her step reminded me of our beautiful stepsister, the one with the delectable ass, the kissable lips and the luscious breasts. The one stuck in Michigan, taking care of our daughter, while Troy and I worked on rebuilding our lives here. Because there was really no excuse for not going to see Krissy. I still can’t believe I hadn’t held my luscious step in my arms for a whole fucking year, hadn’t sampled those creamy tits, tasted that sweet nectar between her legs.
But life has just been so fucking crazy and impossible to manage, even now.
“Fuck,” I ground out to myself. The situation was fucking impossible. I poured myself a drink, my eyes blurring as I gazed at the spreadsheets again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Troy
What Tyler hasn’t told you, what he’s ashamed to reveal, is that he’s a fucking drunk now. The stress of the trial combined with losing our business turned him into a mean-ass drunk, someone with a serious alcohol problem.
He’s always been alpha, and when it’s magnified by his favorite beverage, it’s a thousand times worse.
“FUCK!” he roared just last night, sloppy and stumbling into our apartment. “I’m dialing her right now,” he slurred, reaching for his cell phone.
But of course, he was so gone that he’d lost his phone somewhere, out during the interminable bar crawl that went on all night.
“Hey big boy,” said Rachel, helping him sit. “No need to call your little sister, it’s late,” she said. Rachel had been with him the entire night. I wish I could say that she was Tyler’s guardian angel, watching out for him, but lately I’ve been getting bad vibes. I mean, she was dressed slutty, like the hooker she once was. And I mean street prostitute, not classy escort girl.
“Thanks Rach, I’ll take it from here,” I said, sliding an arm around my brother’s waist. He weighed two tons, like a fucking bull in a china shop, difficult to control, slipping and sliding everywhere.
“Take it easy, bro,” I said, settling him onto the couch. “Just relax.”
“WHERE’S KRISSY? WHERE’S MY DAUGHTER?” he roared, a cry of pain to the heavens.
I knew how he felt. I knew how much he missed our beautiful step, her sweet smile, that luscious body always willing to accommodate two cocks. But the thing is, I don’t want her to see Tyler like this, reduced to this pathetic mass of uncontrolled hate and fear. Until this alcohol addiction is resolved, we’re not going anywhere near Michigan.
It’s really quite sad. Krissy’s been in Michigan on her own with the baby for almost a year now. I know she’s tried to reach us, but to be safe, I always tell our secretary to screen her calls.
“Just tell her we’re busy, yeah?” I said.
“Whatever you like, Mr. Lyon,” she replied. “Should I say that to your parents too?”
“Yeah, it’s probably better if you do,” I ground out.
Fuck this alcoholism thing is fucking impossible. It’s really the only thing holding us back. My brother and I are fine financially. We have millions socked away, some of it in overseas accounts, and Bar Brass is doing fine. Maybe we haven’t been promoting it aggressively, but it’s because we want to lay low for a while. After all that’s happened, the Lyon twins are recognizable as the dudes who brought down the governor and it’s better to stay out of the limelight. But hey, we’ll be back on the circuit soon enough, as soon as Tyler shapes up.
So business-wise, things are fine and thank fuck, we’re not in jail. But our persona
l life is in tatters because my brother’s developed a drinking habit and I can’t let Krissy and our daughter see him like this. What to do?
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Krissy
I scanned the papers again, trying to find those photos where I’d seen Rachel with my brothers. Ah, here was one. The beautiful bartender had her head bent close to Tyler and Troy, their dark hair making them almost look like siblings. But the truth was I was their sister, not Rachel.
I looked more closely, and my breath caught in my chest. Because I saw something that I’d never noticed before, the image partially obscured by a passerby. In the bottom right of the photo, almost out of frame, I could see Tyler and Rachel holding hands, as if they were lovers.
Fuck! My brain screeched with pain, like hot oil was being poured all over my body. My brother … at least one of them … was cheating on me. Suddenly it all came into place. They’d shipped me off to Michigan, sure, to shield me from the trial, to keep whispers at bay while I was pregnant with their baby. But now, I’d been abandoned in these remote outskirts, our daughter unacknowledged, because my brothers had taken up with another woman.
The shock and grief overwhelmed me.
“Mom?” My voice quivered when my mom picked up. I was lucky to even get a hold of her. “Mom, can you hear me?” I tried again.
“Baby, where are you?” she asked. “We’ve been so worried, and Tyler and Troy won’t take our calls either. Where are you? I’m coming right now.”
I was gratified that my mom’s first instinct was to rush to my side. But her comforting words weren’t enough for the searing pain.
“Mom, I have something to confess,” my voice trembled.
“Honey, whatever it is, I’m sure it’s okay,” she said soothingly. “Robert and I, we’ve been trying to find you for the last year, but you disappeared. Why honey? What’s going on?”
“Mom …” I continued. “I had the baby out here in Michigan … because the baby’s fathers are Troy and Tyler,” I said faintly.
That got my mom. A crackling silence ensued, the line silent and staticky as my mom took in the import of my words.
“Honey,” she said calmly. “What do you mean Tyler and Troy are the fathers? There can only be one dad,” she said.
I took this as a good sign. At least she was focused on the biological aspect, and hadn’t made screeching sounds about fucking my brothers, how we were related, etc.
“They’re identical twins,” I said with a small hitch in my voice. “They have the same DNA so there’s no way to tell who Annie’s father is. And mom,” I added miserably, “I don’t know who the father is because I was sleeping with them both.”
Again, ominous silence. But then my mom’s voice came back on, oddly maternal and comforting.
“Oh honey, Robert and I guessed something happened between you and the twins, when you disappeared and your brothers wouldn’t take our calls. We knew something had happened, and well … we didn’t know how to bring it up. We didn’t know how to broach this sensitive issue, although I was ready to fly in and give them a piece of my mind. Instead, Robert convinced me to be patient. But honey, what went wrong? Why aren’t you with your brothers? Are they not good dads?”
And the story came tumbling out, how I’d been alone in Michigan for the past year, how Annie hadn’t even met her fathers yet. I cried, the tears streaming hot and fast down my cheeks, the first time I’d unburdened myself during this difficult, terrible time.
My mom clucked and murmured in all the right places, but her reaction was different from what I expected. Instead of saying “ditch those guys, they’re losers,” she suggested the opposite.
“Honey, why are you still in Michigan? What are you waiting for if the trial’s already over?”
“I don’t know Ma. I figured Troy and Tyler would send for me once everything was settled … but they didn’t.” I started sobbing again.
My mom sighed heavily.
“Honey, I know I haven’t been around since I married Robert, but for seventeen years I was a single mom, so tough times aren’t new. We didn’t get you through junior high without a fight, right? So be that woman now … go and find your future. Search for it, make your brothers face you if that’s what it takes.”
Was that the right thing to do? Had I been a weak wallflower, shamefully accepting the twins’ money and bad behavior? My mom and I had struggled financially when I was growing up, but perhaps it had been worth it. Maybe to develop a sense of independence and self-worth, I needed to draw boundaries, to stand up for myself. Had I forgotten all that in the past year?
Suddenly, I knew my mom was right. I needed to confront my brothers, show them Annie, and challenge them to do right by us. What was happening was simply unacceptable, and there was no way it could, or should, go on, monthly checks be damned.
“Ma … I think you’re right,” I said softly. “I need to face my fears. I need to go to New York, and … if there’s another woman, I need to confront them about it.” I choked slightly at these words.
“That’s right,” said my mom. “And remember, you’re not just their sister or girlfriend. You’re the mother of their child now, a woman in full. They need to understand that, and pay you the respect you deserve.”
“Thank you, Ma,” I murmured softly. “I’m going to book a ticket right now, for me and the baby.”
“And honey, if you need anything, I want you to come to me, okay? We’re the Lyon girls, we stick together,” she reminded me. “I’m always a hundred percent behind you. I’m so proud of you for having a baby on your own. It ultimately doesn’t matter that Annie’s dads are her uncles too, okay? I love you.”
“Thanks Ma,” I said softly. “I love you too.”
And as I hung up the phone, I realized my mom was right. The real Kristen had been lost in the last year, in a deep spiral of gloom and depression. But she was coming back … even if my brothers didn’t like it.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Troy
Things have just gotten more shit with Tyler. I’m sure now that Rachel is a bad influence. More than just a bad influence, she’s an enabler, and I would even go so far as to say that she had some hidden role in the Haley scandal.
“So, how many times did you sleep with Governor Haley again?” I asked.
“Well,” she hedged. “He was so rich and horny, he actually used quite a few of us,” she said.
I tried to think back. It was true, the governor had used quite a few of our girls, but our files had been confiscated before I could figure out which ones. Plus, my brother and I hadn’t been permitted in the court room while other witnesses testified, so we still didn’t know which hookers had turned.
“Rachel,” I said grimly. “How many girls testified against Haley?”
She colored, and looked away, embarrassed. I mean, I wouldn’t want to admit that I’d fucked a sixty year-old man for money either, but whatever, she got paid.
“Troy,” she sighed. “I was the only one.”
“So you were the one who told the feds about Club Luxe then, right? You were the one who led them to us,” I said.
She colored again. “Yes, but I had to! The government wouldn’t grant me immunity unless I told them who I worked for.”
But there was more shit to come.
“Rachel,” I said slowly. “Did you wear a wire when you were working? Not just when you were fucking Haley, but when you were talking business with me and Tyler? Were you recording us?”
She shook her head no, but then slowly nodded yes when she saw the disbelieving look on my face.
“I had to Troy,” she whispered. “They made me do it. I’m so sorry.”
And suddenly I realized how our safe room had been breached, how they’d gotten my fingerprints. Rachel had led them right to the money pot, spewing everything, all the while pretending to be our confidante. The crisis wasn’t her fault per se, but her duplicity was shocking, especially because we’d trusted her. In the e
nd, she’d been protecting her own ass all along, trading us in on a silver platter for immunity from prosecution.
My thoughts must have showed because she started crying and pleading with me.
“Please Troy! I love you and Tyler, and you must know that Tyler’s fallen in love with me!” she said, hot tears trailing down her face, smearing her mascara and blush.
But I didn’t give a fuck. Once a traitor, always a traitor, and I realized we’d been too kind to her. We’d eaten up her story, convinced that she was genuine because of our long history together. But that had been a crock of shit. She’d just been covering her own tracks, her own motives in the Haley case.
And now shit was seriously fucked up. She’d attached herself to Tyler and was convinced that he loved her? Fuck that.
“Get out,” I growled. “Get the fuck out before I throw you out.”
“No,” she whimpered. “Please Troy. Tyler needs me, you know his whole drinking thing has gotten out of hand. Please,” she begged.
“He’s a fucking alcoholic because you made him that way! You provided the booze, you took him out slumming … where the fuck did you guys go tonight? Some seedy little joint that he’d never go if he was sober?” I raged. “Once a street hooker, always a street hooker,” I snarled.
“No!” she screamed. “I’m not! I’ve moved beyond that!” she sobbed, collapsing into a heap on the floor.
But I didn’t care. I grabbed her under the armpits and hauled her to the front door, almost pulling her by the hair at one point, she was screaming and thrashing so much.
“No!” she shrieked again. “Tyler needs me!”
But I didn’t give a shit, this piece of turd was pure garbage. I opened the front door and hurled her onto the street, shoving, not caring that she looked a slutty mess. The old mantra was right. You can fuck the shit out of a girl, but there’s always more shit. Fuck this.
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