Gorgeous Bastard

by Stella Blaze

  I snuck a few drinks from the flask when dad stopped to fill the gas tank (and to freshen up in the restroom. His hair was neater and he smelled more strongly of his aftershave. He might have even brushed his teeth.)

  Then I gulped down four or five mouthfuls as I trailed him to the Winters girls’ front door.

  I followed dad into the party, and about fell over when I got a look at Cali. Two years had made her so much more than just beautiful. She was stunning. The way her long, shiny blonde hair bounced as she ran up to hug dad. The way her perfect skin glowed.

  She smelled like strawberries—no surprise there, she fucking loved them.

  She looked so damn happy as she hugged the shit out of dad. They looked so right together. He loved her like he loved me, which should have put my nose out of joint and all, and at first it did. But then I got to know the little goody two shoes.

  But I acted like a pig and a jerk and an asshole towards her anyways.

  I was a guy, after all.

  I watched the disappointed look on her face when he gave her the envelope full of money. That’s what made Cali so damn special. Teenagers were supposed to be shallow and materialistic, but not Cali. Her disappointment was that dad might not have known her well enough to pick out her present.

  And then dad played his ace in the hole.

  He pulled out the other envelope, the one with the plane ticket and the ticket for the basketball camp.

  I’d been on my iPhone for hours tracking down how to get a ticket for that damn camp. I knew she loved the NBA, and Kobe and all those guys. But she never missed a WNBA game, and Tamika was the player she most idolized.

  Hell yes… the way her eyes ignited and her face bloomed with a fierce, joyous smile.

  More hugging, more of Cali being Cali.

  Made something in me start to burn. Made it start to pace like a fucking caged tiger, hungry and impatient, and so goddamned obsessed.

  Yes, that was the fucking word for it… obsessed.

  I was obsessed with my stepsister.

  With Cali.

  Cali… of the long blonde hair and big blue eyes, and that bright, happy smile.

  And when she needed her glasses to read… how freaking sexy was that?

  Nerd sexy.

  I shook my head, trying to push all those dangerous thoughts out of my head.

  That’s when I heard my name.

  Dad was telling her I’d picked out her present.

  I know he was just trying to give me credit, but why did it feel like he was throwing me under the bus?

  “I guess he couldn’t come,” Cali said, looking strange, like she was relieved that I wasn’t here.

  But I was.

  “Don’t worry, princess,” I said, edging out from behind dad so she’d notice me. “I wouldn’t miss your little party for the world.” I walked toward her, our shoulders brushing as I passed her by. “Dad made me come.”

  The instant I said it I regretted it.

  The look on her face, how her happy just evaporated into thin air.

  I fucking hated myself, right there and then.

  So I kept on walking right on past her, headed into the party, hoping to find something—anything—to take my mind off of what I’d just did, and her, and how freaking possessive I was suddenly feeling about her.

  That’s when some girl named Casey or Stacey came over to me and started talking. Her big brown eyes drank me in, and though I wasn’t following a word she said, I could just imagine her thick, pink lipstick smeared lips sucking on my cock.

  Oh yeah…

  I took another gulp of vodka and offered the flask to her. She took a sip, and coughed, making her generous chest jiggle in her tight little sweater.

  Yes, I was going to enjoy the rest of this party.

  I remember making out with Casey/Stacey. I remember pulling her along behind me as I looked for somewhere to fuck her. And I remember somehow getting turned around and then stumbling into the kitchen, finding Cali staring at some closed door.

  And I thought I was having a hard time with direction.

  Then I saw the panties in her hands.

  They weren’t hers. They were those sexy French cut numbers Cali’s mom Suzy always wore—straight off the butt of some Victoria’s secret model.

  And then Cali’s startled, blank stare made sense, because then I heard her mother do her “orgasm” giggle.

  When Cali and Suzy used to live with us, my bedroom shared a wall with the two lovebirds. I was treated to her O giggles, her breathless “yes, yes, yes” squeals, and to my dad’s “I’m gonna come” grunts.

  I couldn’t fucking believe it!

  Couldn’t leave dad alone for a minute, could I?

  I went to the closed door, cracking my neck, flexing my hands, making a show of it… and then opened it.

  There was my dad with his ass bared, humping Suzy like a freaking dog in heat.

  They didn’t even notice me, Cali, or what’s-her-name watching them fucking.

  Freaking animals…

  I closed the door.

  What’s-her-face kept asking if she’d really just seen two people having sex.

  I was glad I didn’t find somewhere to screw her. If she didn’t know sex when she saw it, she was probably a lousy lay.

  I corrected Stacey/Casey, since she also didn’t know the difference between a kitchen and a pantry.

  The pantry door swung open and Suzy and dad stood there, looking flushed and sweaty and disheveled. Suzy was trying to pull down her dress.

  I looked at Cali and said, in my most confidential tone, “Better luck the second time around, right?” And I walked out of the kitchen.

  I had to get the fuck out of there, away from what’s-her-face, mom and dad, and especially Cali.

  I took another slug from my flask and looked out the front window. There were strangers all around me. Cali’s family, Cali’s friends—not a soul I knew in the least.

  How had we all lived together for two years and not one of these people, Cali and Suzy’s family, had shown up?

  I caught a glimpse of Cali as she slipped out a door.

  Another side door.

  Just like the side door that led to our driveway.

  The hoop, of course, was still up. And though dad and I played a couple games a month, I didn’t go out there and just shoot some balls like I used to. I used to live out on the court. Now most of the B-ball I play is on my college court… and I was never alone. Someone else was always there too, practicing, trying to one up the other guy.

  I closed my eyes and shook off everything that had just played out in my head.

  It was crazy.

  I turned and walked further into the house. I stayed away from the kitchen, just in case dad and Suzy might be performing an encore.

  I slipped through the other guests, down past the living room and down a hallway. About halfway down the corridor I saw that a door was ajar, a wide crack betraying a view of the room inside.

  I recognize Cali’s ginormous sleigh bed, the light, birds’ eye wood, the freaking king sized mattress. I mean, really, all that bed for Little Miss Tightly -Wound.

  What the fuck?

  Before I knew what I was doing I’d stepped into her room, and was running a hand over the smooth, cool wood of the sleigh bed. The bedspread was silver and white striped silk. More elegant than I’d thought she’d go for.

  As I looked around the room I realized the walls were wallpapered to match the bedspread exactly.

  I remembered her room being more disorganized, more teenage girl—more alive. With clothes strewn here and there, and make-up on the counter tops, and stuffed animals everywhere.

  The silky bedspread called to me.

  I sat down on it for only a second, or that’s what I thought. I felt myself fall into the softness that was Cali’s bed.

  I don’t even remember closing my eyes. But when I opened them the room was bathed in a different, amber light.

  Tim
e had passed. How long had I been laying there?

  I pulled myself up off the bed and felt the room spin.

  Whoa… head rush.

  I saw the alarm clock next to the bed. Four o’clock.

  Shit, I’d been lying there for two freaking hours!

  I stood up and walked a couple steps before my legs turned to Jell-O, catching myself on the sleigh bed before I took a header into the carpeting. I spied the open closet door and a familiar sight greeted me.

  I pulled open the closet door and reached in, pulling out the Train like a Girl t-shirt. It was warm in my hands, and soft… and as I brought it up to my face and inhaled, it smelled like Cali.

  How I remember her smell.

  Shiiit…

  I set the shirt on her bed and stared at it there for a minute.

  I could see her wearing it that day in the driveway, the way the sun glowed off her skin.

  The sun right then, spilling through the bedroom window was so like that day.

  The smell of her skin…

  The taste of her lips…

  And then all hell broke loose.

  Our family fell apart, and our parents had never known about the kiss.

  Were they getting a second chance?

  Suzy and dad looked really happy earlier.

  Could they just get over their differences?

  And here I was lurking around Cali’s bedroom, pawing through Cali’s things, a freaking pervert.

  If I did ANYTHING about how I felt about her, then even worse things would happen.

  Worse than the divorce?

  Was there anything worse than a divorce?

  I thought about my mom when she died.

  I was twelve.

  She was alone when that truck hit her head on. She stayed conscious until we made it to the hospital, and then she’d died.

  There were a lot worse things than a divorce.

  I felt my stomach lurch. I ran my hand over my brow and found it sweaty and clammy.

  I rushed to the bedroom door, turned down the hallway and started opening doors. Bedroom, closet… finally I opened the door to the bathroom. I barely made it to the toilet, disgorging the contents of my stomach in long, foul tasting streams.

  The door opened and someone stepped into the bathroom. Water ran and then something cold settled on the back of my neck.

  “At least you puked in the toilet,” Cali said. “Much easier to clean up that way.”

  “Go… away.”

  Silence. And then she sighed.

  “Why are you puking?”

  I couldn’t believe she was asking me stupid shit like this. I just wanted her to go away.

  “I mean,” she droned on, “you have a flask and all, so why are you sick? I thought that happened the first time you got drunk.”

  Great, I’m puking my guts out in enemy territory and she’s pulling her goody-goody act on me.

  Then her eyes shot open and she stared at me in open mouthed astonishment.

  “That was the first time you drank, isn’t it?”

  Jesus-fucking-Christ!

  “I thought…” I tasted bile in the back of my throat. “I asked you to… go away.”

  She patted my back and I felt this strange warmth radiate from her, like she knew what I was going through.

  “When you can pry yourself away from the toilet, I’ll have the couch made up for you. And there are a couple little cans of Canada Dry ginger ale in the fridge. It’ll help with the nausea.”

  Cali stood up and walked out of the bathroom, closing it with a gentle click.

  I swallowed, my throat raw. I stared at the door, as if I could still see her.

  “I really missed you,” I said, my voice a hoarse whisper.

  And I did. More than I could ever tell her.

  Chapter 8

  Cali

  In the six months since my graduation party, mom and Paul reconciled. Mom moved back in with Paul. And I didn’t have to do a thing: they just packed up my stuff and moved it back into my old room at Paul’s house. It was all there when I drove home for winter break—it was strange but so familiar. The little house mom and I lived in in Charlotte never really felt like home, not like Paul’s house had.

  The two lovebirds had a surprise for me when I got home.

  They were getting married… again… two weeks before Christmas.

  I thought that maybe they were rushing things… but another part of me was thrilled. My mom and dad were going to be together again. Everything would be right with the world again.

  As usual, Joshua wasn’t going to be back until the big day. He’d probably be off again to some party destination right after, leaving me to myself, since the lovebirds were honeymooning in the Cayman Islands for two weeks.

  Mom said they’d be home from their honeymoon two days before Christmas.

  They had the reception scheduled for the Hastings Grand, a mid-scale banquet hall that boasted a separate, staffed gymnasium/fun room to keep the children busy while the grownups ate and drank and danced to some really old music.

  The nuptials were going to be at the Calvary Methodist Church on West Broad Street.

  It was where they’d been married the first time, and though they should have rethought the wisdom of starting over again in the same place they did the first time, I had never seen mom happier.

  Mom dragged me to the bridal boutique where she had our dresses picked out.

  Her colors were yellow and white, and my bridesmaid dress was a tasteful daffodil number with a flattering bodice and a flowing knee length silk skirt.

  Mom was wearing white again, even though I’d read that you should wear off white for your second wedding… and this was mom’s third.

  But I just smiled and acted happy for her sake.

  Not that I didn’t want mom and dad to get married again. I wanted nothing more.

  I just didn’t want to see Joshua again.

  It would just be for a day, and then I was certain he would run off to some trendy locale for some party-til-you-drop fun.

  But seeing how uncomfortable we’d both been at my graduation party, I wasn’t looking forward to seeing him again, not even for just a couple hours.

  Well, part of me wasn’t… the other part of me was breathless with anticipation.

  How pathetic was that?

  Even after him getting drunk, being a lecherous pig, and then puking in our bathroom, I still couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  If anything, it was worse. My thoughts of him just became more… more everything since I saw him again. Like HD and 3D.

  He missed the rehearsal dinner the night before, which was kind of bad since he was the best man. I was mom’s maid of honor.

  He finally showed up in the morning, just as I was pouring my first cup of coffee for the day. He wore a scraggly beard, marring his beautiful face. His eyes were bloodshot, and he was dressed like a beach bum: frayed khaki shorts, filthy old sneakers, a tank top, and mussed hair that looked like he hadn’t combed it in a week.

  And he was still gorgeous…

  The happy grin evaporated immediately when he saw me.

  “Princess… I didn’t know you drank coffee,” he said.

  I opened my mouth to say something nasty, dropping the muffin I’d been contemplating on the counter. But just then he walked over to me, getting so very close, and reached over me to grab a coffee mug. I scooted away from him and was across the room in a flash.

  Joshua looked at me, a startled look on his face, and then that look turned hard.

  “Don’t worry, princess… I’ll keep my lowly hands off you. I promise.”

  I gulped, not able to pry my eyes off him.

  “Make sure you clean up before the wedding.”

  That’s all I had to say to him.

  I turned and walked quickly out of the room, up the stairs and back to my room, locking the door behind me.

  I set my coffee on my bedside table, suddenly not thirsty or hungry…
just irritated… well, more than irritated… angry? Yeah, that’s it. I was angry.

  No, more than angry.

  I was pissed.

  He’d come so close to me I could feel the heat from his body.

  And he’d done it on purpose.

  The bastard.

  My stomach turned on me, making the hunger I’d felt earlier irrelevant. I couldn’t have eaten anything as upset as I was.

  I just wanted to go back downstairs and slap him. That would certainly make me feel better. Maybe throw my coffee in his face.

  I looked down at my cup on the table. It was steaming.

  Too hot to do that.

  I wanted to hurt him, not HURT him.

  I needed something to take my mind off him until it was time to get ready for the wedding.

  Something mindless and fun.

  I saw my basketball lying in the bottom of my closet.

  That’s what I needed. To shoot some hoops. To burn off some nervous energy.

  And then I saw the driveway basketball court, the place where all our problems had started.

  I dropped my ball back to the floor of my closet. “Bad idea.”

  Not only was the court filled with memories so very not useful, but I could run into Joshua anywhere in the house. Whatever I did I needed to do it here in my room.

  I looked over my DVDs and found Tae-bo, Zumba, and Pilates.

  Not in the mood for any of those.

  I wanted something unfamiliar, yet really hard.

  I turned on my TV and the Roku box and found “Daily Burn.”

  I clicked on its thirty day free trial, clicked on a full body work out, and chose a full hour program.

  A fierce looking woman with a scar on her chin and shoulders like Dwayne Johnson popped on the screen and started growling at me to get my feet moving, and my sissy arms doing something other than stuffing my face.

  I grinned and started to follow the crazy fitness woman’s movements.

  An hour later I was sweaty, winded, and exhausted. The crazy fitness woman had seriously kicked my ass.

  I felt a little tingly all over too, so the woman must have been really good at working people out.

  I took a shower and put on some yoga pants and a t-shirt.

  I could still feel the burn in my legs, shoulders and back. I kind of appreciated it—anything not to think about who was in the house with me.