SAVIOR: A Stepbrother Romance

by Ora Wilde

  “No,” I told him. “The buggers just thought it would be funny if I will accompany Margaret here for the day,” I continued, pointing at the crew who were busy filming.

  “Margaret?” Artemis asked.

  I pointed at the girl who was still kneeling beside the kid, still unknowingly exposing her succulent cleavage.

  “Oh... her!” Artemis enthusiastically said as if he had a Eureka moment. “My God, Conner! You never fail to impress me with your ways with women! You’ve been here for a day and you already have a girl!”

  “What? No!” I quickly denied. “She’s not my... she’s not that!”

  “Huh? Then who is she?”

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Margaret looking at me intently, wondering how I would reply.

  “She’s my... sister...” I glumly answered.

  “Your... sister?” Artemis repeated. “You have a sister?”

  “Stepsister,” I clarified. “She’s the daughter of my father’s new wife.”

  Artemis just shrugged.

  The rest of the day was boring as shit. We - the docu crew and I as well as Artemis - sat at the back row as Margaret delivered her lessons to the children who gathered around her. She read them stories, they played games, they laughed and sang and danced... all the while I kept looking at my watch, hoping that time would move in fast forward. Sadly, time always seemed to move slower whenever I was conscious of it, and that morning was no exception.

  As I yawned for what seemed like the millionth time, a fleeting thought tickled my mind.

  No... not a thought.

  A feeling.

  As I watched Margaret smiling and laughing and mingling with the kids, I saw a different kind of joy on her face... one that was honest and sincere... one that was so immaculate and pristine. She loved what she was doing, and what she was doing required a lot of patience and passion. She was good with the kids, handling them so well that she was able to turn their tantrums into life lessons learned with sweet persuasion and affectionate tolerance.

  And it was then when I felt it.

  A sensation that seemed too strange for me, one that I have never experienced before. With the joy she showed, I began to feel a semblance of happiness as well. Was it because her glee was contagious? Or was it because I was impressed by the way she kept her smile the whole time?

  Or maybe... I just respected the excellence she showed in dealing with those brats.

  Then I realized what I was feeling.

  It was admiration.

  I actually admired how the valley girl dealt with the unruliness and the devilry of those little rascals.

  Three hours later, and thirty minutes before lunch, the class was dismissed. The imps quickly scampered for their things and ran towards the door, screaming like they just won half a grand at baccarat.

  Thank God they were finally gone!

  After arranging her own stuff, Margaret started to walk towards the door as well. As soon as she passed by us, I stood to catch up with her.

  “Hey!” I called her attention. She stopped walking and turned around.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  “We’re... we’re starving. Is there a resto nearby?”

  “Felicity’s Diner is just two blocks from here. Just follow the road to the left after you exit the Montessori.”

  Then she started to walk out of the room once again. I looked at her as she took her steps. A few more and she would be out of my sight.

  “Margaret!” I called her name. I didn’t know why. I... I just did.

  She turned around once more to see what I needed.

  “What is it, Conner?” she questioned. “Want to know where the bathroom is?” she proceeded to say with a wry smile.

  For some strange reason, I found myself bowing my head, staring at my shoes as my feet wriggled to switch my balance from left to right and back again.

  “Well?” she asked, still with a dry smile, though with a hint of impatience that time around.

  “I was...” I began to speak. “Well... I was just... just wondering... if you could join us.”

  I slightly lifted my head and saw the startled look on her face, though she still tried to maintain her beam.

  “Come again?” she asked in disbelief.

  “Join us. For lunch.” I said.

  “W-What for?”

  “Because... well... because I want you to...”

  And just like that, her mirthful grin vanished immediately.

  Chapter Eight

  MEG

  Because I want you to...

  What did he mean by that, exactly? Did he want me to accompany him because he was new in town and he needed some company? The documentary crew was always with him. Surely, he didn’t need any more companions.

  Did he want me to accompany him because he was feeling a little bit antisocial - which wouldn’t be surprising at all - and he needed some kind of emotional support from a family member he just most recently met? That would be an absurd idea.

  Did he want me to accompany him because he was going to ask for an update on the damage he has caused my car? He could’ve easily done that earlier in the day, or last night, even.

  “Preoccupied, I see,” he uttered just before he placed the fork wrapped in spaghetti inside his mouth.

  “Huh? Errr... no... not really.” A panic mode reply. Duh, Meg!

  “You’re probably thinking why I asked you to come with me for lunch?” he asked, much to my shock. Was he a mindreader? Or was I just too obvious.

  “Uhm... no,” I said in, yet again, an anxious tone.

  “Don’t worry,” he told me while looking at his plate, scouring its surface for remnants of the meatball he just gobbled up. “You’re not my type.”

  What?!

  How dare him!

  Did he assume that by agreeing to have lunch, I was actually interested in him? The gall of this stubborn jerk!

  “For your information,” I started to say angrily, “I am not interested in you. Never have. Never will. Besides, I have a boyfriend!”

  “Besides?”

  “Yes...”

  “Why did you have to say that word?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You said besides, right? Meaning... if you didn’t have a boyfriend, you would’ve been all over me.”

  An infuriating smirk formed on his face.

  “You are such a prick, you know that?” I told him with a loud voice... so loud that the film crew seated at the other table turned their heads to look towards our direction, wondering what the commotion was all about.

  “Don’t get all worked up over nothing,” he frivolously dismissed my rage, still without even affording the courtesy of facing me. He was still focused on his food, playing with what was left on his plate. “I’m used to it.”

  “Used to what?” I asked, still brimming with contempt.

  “To wetting girls’ panties,” he answered with a half laugh.

  “Oh please... you hardly have that effect on me.”

  “Mind if I check for myself?” He wriggled on his chair as if he was about to lunge towards me.

  I quickly got up and grabbed my bag.

  “This... this is over...” I told him, my voice seething with loathing.

  “But we’ve barely just began,” he said. He was finally looking at me... quite lasciviously. Was he teasing me? Or was he mocking me? Or perhaps, just like his food, he was playing with me.

  Regardless, I gave him a chance. I allowed him to stay with me at work. I accepted his invitation for lunch. Yet he treated me like dirt. I don’t ask for many things, but I surely didn’t deserve that kind of a treatment.

  “Where are you going?” he asked. His tone suddenly changed from derisive to concerned.

  “Away from you!” I screamed at him.

  I turned around and walked briskly towards the exit, passing through the aisle near the table where the documentary crew were eating. I noticed them looking at me. I wouldn’t have ca
red, what with the anger I was feeling. But something else caught my attention.

  One of the cameramen...

  Holding his lens....

  Pointed towards me...

  Oh my God!

  He was filming the entire thing!

  Was nothing sacred anymore?

  I understood why they had to follow Conner around... why they had to capture the moments when he was acting his best. They had to show him under a different light... as someone who had a heart, though I firmly believed he had none.

  But why would they decide to capture his mockery of my womanhood?

  I stopped walking and turned to face the cameraman... Robert, if I remembered correctly.

  “Why’re you filming?” I asked him with the same level of detestation I had for my stepdad’s son.

  He didn’t budge. He kept pointing the camera on me.

  “Hey! Robert! I asked you a damn question!” I shouted at him.

  “Sorry Meg... boss’ order... capture everything on film...” he mechanically replied.

  “Can you... can you please turn it off?” I pleaded, softening my voice so that he’d know how bad I felt about his action.

  “Turn it off, Rob,” the girl beside him, Anna, whispered.

  “I can’t. Boss will get mad at me,” Robert answered, still quite robotically.

  “Please... Sir... turn it off...” I begged once more. “It’s making me uncomfortable.”

  “Rob, turn the darn thing off!” Anna repeated. The other members of their group started to murmur as they joined her in imploring him to stop.

  “Easy for you guys to say,” Robert uttered. “You’re not the cameraman. Your job ain’t on the line.”

  I haven’t cried since I was nine, when my dad left us for his other family. But at that moment, I felt my eyes as they started to moisten... as tears threatened to drop. I hated myself for it. I have always viewed crying as a sign of weakness, and the fact that I was at the verge of tears made me feel gutless.

  Then, a voice.

  His voice.

  “Turn the fucking thing off!” he ordered, sternly, strongly, authoritatively.

  So much so that Robert had no other recourse but to peek outside the lens to look at him.

  “Turn it off or I’m gonna rip your fucking arm from the rest of your ugly body, you ass-jobber!” Conner repeated his command.

  Quickly, Robert dropped the camera on the table and retreated to the farthest end of his seat.

  “Okay... you sons-of-a-bitches and you fucking ten dollar sluts,” he addressed the group. “From now on, we will do things my fucking way, alright? Rule number one: I’m the only asshole here. Not you, not you, not anyone of you! You don’t have the fucking right to act like ass bags while I’m around, understand?”

  They all nodded in unison.

  “Rule number two: this girl here...” he continued as he pointed at me, “I don’t like her but she’s family... and I won’t appreciate it if you’ll piss off my family. Is that fucking clear?”

  Again, they all nodded in a synchronized manner.

  “And rule number three: I don’t care what that kootch Danny told you, and I don’t care what you film... but if I tell you to stop filming... you! Fucking! Stop! Filming! Alright?”

  They all bowed their heads and agreed to his demand.

  “Good,” Conner said. “Now... where are you going?” he asked as he turned to face me.

  “Home,” I answered.

  “Good. Give me a damn ride.”

  I wanted to shake my head to express my bewilderment. Just a few minutes ago, he was acting like the biggest jerk in the world. Then, all of a sudden, he leapt to my rescue when someone else wasn’t treating me well.

  What’s up with that?

  Did he think that he, and he alone, had the right to make me feel bad?

  He walked with me towards the exit. No further words were said between us. But my mind kept wandering... to the man who was keeping pace with me.

  Conner McXavier.

  He’s one complicated animal.

  As soon as we opened the door, Artemis - Conner’s manager - barged in, carrying a hotdog sandwich and wiping catchup off his mouth.

  “Hey! Guys! What’s up?” he asked.

  His attention was immediately stolen by the astonished look on the faces of the people in the diner, as well as the sight of the documentary crew who were, literally, shaking in their shoes in terror.

  Then, Artemis began to speak once again...

  “Oh holy shit... did I miss something good?”

  Chapter Nine

  CONNER

  I felt like I was riding a fucking stroller.

  I missed my Roadster.

  I never liked being a passenger... especially when a girl was driving. It made me look like a pussy.

  And her car... if anyone could call it a car... looked like it was older than my grandma. The interiors were just as bad. The upholstery had tears everywhere. They actually scared me. Insects may have made them their home... and who knows what manner of bugs would come crawling out of those fucking holes!

  I hate bugs!

  I don’t fear guys bigger than me, competing in the heavyweight division, a level forty pounds above mine, as I know that once I take them down and the match becomes a ground game, the weight will even out. I don’t fear being mugged by a gang of thugs, as I am confident I can take on all of them. I don’t fear critics and haters... I don’t fucking care about those lowlifes. And neither do I care about my so called fans.

  But bugs?

  Just the mere thought of one of those vile creatures crawling up my arm - with their spiky little legs scratching my skin- makes me shiver. I’d crush them with my foot if I could, but I know that my instinct would first tell me to run away.

  Jesus Christ! Bugs? Why didn’t Noah just leave them in the flood? Maybe he did, but those vile creatures just crawled back to the ark.

  Artemis was seated at the back. His body was drooped over the entirety of the seat. He was too busy eating his fucking hotdog that he failed to notice how disturbed I felt at that instance. I would have to remind him to do his job later, when we’re alone. He’s not just my manager. He’s also my personal assistant, my first aid responder, my manservant, and my fucking shrink. He always knew when something bothered me, and he’d be quick to remedy the situation before I lost control. That time in Margaret’s car, though, he didn’t detect my mood. It was because he wasn’t looking. He was too engrossed with his stupid sandwich.

  I looked at Margaret. Her gaze was focused on the road. Her foot floated tensely on the pedal. She was a cautious driver, that much was obvious. Her skirt pulled up a little, revealing her flesh up to her knees. I saw her legs, which were just as smooth and creamy as the rest of her fine body. I tried to withdraw my stare before she noticed me stealing a glance.

  There were still traces of anger on her face. I made her very furious earlier. That was an amusing moment.

  I was so used to girls trying to win my attention, trying to seduce me with a variety of ways - some subtle, others not so subdued. When I was an upstart, I found their advances quite exciting. Perks of the job, I told myself back then. But being bombarded by their silly attempts has made me weary.

  It’s not that I thought she was one of those girls. I just wanted to have fun with her. This town... it’s so fucking boring. The prettiest girl I’ve seen in this joint - aside from my stepsister who is, quite honestly, attractive in her own right - was the cashier at the gas station right before entering Susanville. And I had to spend two months here? Bull fucking shit! If I were to be trapped in this hellhole for that long, I might as well find a nice diversion to amuse me.

  And she was perfect.

  Emotional, transparent, reserved and naive... she had a certain kind of innocence that just begged to be depraved.

  But maybe...

  Maybe I came on to her a little bit early. After all, I just met her yesterday. We would be spending two m
onths together and the least that I need is to be on her bad side. I had to do something to fix the mess I might have inadvertently made.

  “About lunch...” I started to say.