Smirk: A Stepbrother Romance

by Wilde, Ora

  But, admittedly, not as much as I despised him.

  “Well, I’m hungry, so that’s that,” I replied as I took the bowl from Phoebe’s hands, intentionally rubbing her fingers with mine in the process. She gave me a dagger look. I just gave her a knowing smile.

  “I’m just happy... and surprised,” my dearest stepmother needlessly added. “You’re usually out this time of the evening, and-”

  Of course, my father didn’t allow her to continue. He has this habit of imposing his will on anything and anyone. Too bad I was often the target of his capriciousness.

  “Well he can’t go anywhere at the moment,” he said. “He just lost his damn car.” I could see the veins on his forehead bulging with restrained anger. He was exerting so much effort in stifling his wrath that it was almost funny... he was like a constipated dolt straining himself on the toilet.

  From the corner of my eye, I saw Phoebe bite her lips, as if she knew beforehand that my Hummer was gone. I wondered why. Did they discuss this matter while I was away? Martha’s words of shock told me that they didn’t.

  “Oh my God!” she exclaimed. “What happened? Were you carjacked?”

  I didn’t want to answer her, not because I would’ve lied... I had no issues about lying... but because she didn’t deserve a response. She didn’t deserve anything.

  My father replied for me, though.

  “He said he just parked it in school,” he shared with his voice brimming with skepticism, “and it was mysteriously gone when he came back.”

  “Doubt my story all you want, father,” I responded, “but that is exactly what happened. Aren’t you relieved, though? I mean... I’m here, alive and unscathed. Lucky me. The Hummer was the only casualty. It’s just a car.”

  “Just a car?!” He couldn’t control his anger anymore. He was about to lose it. “Just a car?! That damn car cost me $40,000! And you lost it, just like that? It just... vanished? What? Like magic?!”

  “$35,000 actually,” I corrected him with a kind of calmness that I knew would infuriate him even more. “It’s not a significant amount to you, father. I know that much. And I know that Martha knows that much, as well.” I gave her a wry smile.

  She pretended that she didn’t hear me. She just continued slicing her food with her table knife.

  Phoebe wanted to intercede. I didn’t know if it was because she was mad at me for treating her bitch of a mother like that, or if she just wanted a peaceful family dinner.

  My father, well, what he did next was expected.

  “For once in your life, Hayden, can’t you act like a grown-up?” he asked angrily. “I know that you haven’t fully accepted the fact that I have fallen in love again and that I’m married now, but be a man, damn it! Treat her with respect!”

  “Wow...” I said as I gave his rousing performance a soft applause. “Treat her with respect... isn’t that right, father? Like how you treated my mother with respect?”

  He quickly stood up from his chair and rammed the table with his fist.

  “Don’t you ever... ever... bring your mother into this!” he shouted. His voice was so loud and he was so enraged that he made the housemaids behind him cower in fear.

  “Oh... you’d rather leave her forgotten, right, father?” I mockingly asked. “You’d rather keep her buried?”

  He was about to approach me but Martha stood up and held him. She tried to calm him down. Nice. At least she was good for something.

  “Well, I guess that’s that,” I said as I stood up. “Thanks for a lovely dinner, Mom.” I could only hope that the derision in my usage of that word wasn’t lost on her.

  I walked towards the front door and Barton unlocked the bolts and opened it for me.

  I loitered outside the house, at the garden past the fountain in the middle of the driveway. I wanted to go somewhere... anywhere... as long as it was far from there. But I didn’t have a ride.

  Fuck it!

  I hope Donnie was taking good care of it, at least.

  I lit up a cigarette.

  I didn’t even notice how emotional I was until I had my first puff. The smoke entered my lungs and calmed my nerves, and I began to think about everything that just transpired. She was there. He was there. And I was there. Those are natural ingredients for a disastrous dinner.

  Before I could savor my second puff, however, someone called my name from behind.

  “Hayden, we have to talk.”

  It was Phoebe. I turned around to look at her. Her face was painted with detestation and anguish. She was mad... probably just as mad as my father... probably just as mad as me. It wasn’t the best time for a talk.

  “What was that all about?” she asked sternly.

  “What was what?” I answered with sham innocence.

  “Don’t play dumb!” she yelled. “Why did you treat my mother like that?”

  I turned my back on her. I looked at the bright lights of downtown L.A. displayed over the horizon. I wished I was there instead of where I was... at home, with them, despairing about the recent turn of events that brought about some changes that I didn’t like.

  “It’s not like we want to be here,” she said. “If we had a choice, we would be living with your father at Van Nuys. You can have that stupid mansion for yourself.”

  “Oh... we’re talking about that now, huh?”

  “What else should we talk about?”

  “Well... I thought you were disappointed that I didn’t get to give you the head job I promised.”

  “What?! Don’t play that game with me, Hayden. You’re always like that. Whenever you’re pushed into a corner for some cruel thing that you did, you always act so flippant... so impudent. Drop that defense mechanism and be man enough to at least give me a straight answer.”

  Be a man?

  That’s the second time someone said that to me that night.

  They want me to be a man? Fine. I’ll give them what they want. But they shouldn’t blame me if they won’t like the consequences.

  I turned to face her once again. I eyed her intently. I wanted her to know how much she has insulted me. I wanted her to know that though I felt that she didn’t deserve the truth, I would still give her the truth. I wanted her to know that hiding things from her made me even more than the man she wanted me to be.

  “What do you want to know?” I asked her, my tone filled with unrelenting resolve.

  “Let’s start with why you hate your father that much? I’ve been observing both of you since that night when when we all got together by chance. It’s obvious that you don’t get along. But it’s so much more than that, isn’t it? You hate him. You hate my mom primarily because you hate him and he loves her. Why do you hate your father, Hayden? Why?”

  I looked at her for what seemed like seconds. I was so determined to answer her every question. But I wasn’t prepared for that particular one.

  “You’re wrong,” I told her. “I don’t hate your mother because he loves her.”

  “Then why do you hate her?” she asked. Her voice has mellowed down. She started to realize that I was opening up to her.

  “I don’t hate her because she’s my father’s new wife,” I said. “I hate her because she’s not my mother.”

  It was her turn to respond with silence. She was lost in her thoughts, thinking about what I said.

  “Okay. That makes sense,” she stated. “But why do you hate your father?”

  I turned my back on her once more. I didn’t want to see her reaction once I told her the truth. Worse, I didn’t want her to see how I would be once I answered her question.

  “I hate my father,” I started to speak, “because he killed my mother.”

  Chapter 32

  PHOEBE

  He killed my mother...

  He killed my mother...

  He killed my mother...

  Those words kept reverberating in my head the next day. Despite my pleas for more information about the matter, he refused to answer. Eventually, he just
walked away, retreating back to the house... most probably to the solace of his room.

  What exactly did he mean by that? Did Bill really kill Hayden’s mother? With a gun? A knife? Poison? Or maybe, he didn’t want his hands to get dirty and he just hired some professional assassins or something.

  That doesn’t seem right. I have come to know Bill as a nice and decent man. He can’t possibly be a murderer.

  Or were those words figurative? Maybe Bill didn’t really kill her. Maybe, things weren’t going well between them and they fought all the time. Maybe, he had some kind of a personality disorder that made him very difficult to live with. Maybe, those things didn’t exactly kill Hayden’s mother... they just led to her death, one way or another.

  Still... what Hayden shared was very alarming, especially since my mom was married to his father. I must warn her. But how? I didn’t even know the entire story and Hayden had no desire to reveal more.

  An idea popped in my head during Chem class. Perhaps, like chemistry, I should break down the issue into identifiable elements so that I can piece them back together and get a brighter picture of what truly happened.

  What were the identifiable elements here? What were the things that I already knew?

  One, Hayden’s mother died when he was a kid. I didn’t know the cause of death.

  Two, Hayden has always hated his dad. His hatred was so strong, one could only assume that the reason was just as grave.

  Three, his words. He killed my mother. The way he said it, it was like he had no doubt about its veracity. He was so sure about it. But the details... the details were missing.

  I felt so tensed and uneasy the whole day. Thoughts about the matter consumed me. I couldn’t focus on my classes. I didn’t have an appetite and I didn’t even notice that I failed to eat a single meal. And I almost tripped several times because I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.

  That afternoon, it got me into trouble.

  I bumped into a couple of guys - frat boys, it seemed, given the Greek-lettered jackets they were wearing - and they didn’t like it a single bit.

  “Fuck, freshie! You blind or something?” one of them irately asked.

  “I’m sorry... I’m so sorry,” I apologized profusely as I picked up my books that fell on the floor.

  “Know your place, freshie, you hear me?” the other one said with a voice loud enough for everyone in the hallway to hear.

  “Hey, listen, I don’t mean to cause any trouble,” I told them. “I’m really sorry about this, but there’s just a lot of things in my mind right now...”

  “And respecting upperclassmen should be at the top of the things in your head,” the first one mockingly yelled as he shoved my temple with his finger.

  I stood up and confronted him. Tradition be damned. I wasn’t taking any of that shit, especially not at that moment when I was thinking about my mother’s welfare.

  “You’re pushing this too far, don’t you think?” I challengingly asked him.

  “And what if I am, freshie?” he vexedly replied as he stood in front of me, his face so near mine.

  It was then when I regretted my decision to stand up for myself. Those two guys... they were so big. They could easily have their way on me, especially when I challenged them in front of all the students who dropped whatever they were doing just to watch the incident that was unfolding.

  “Guys, I know this is the tradition around here but seriously there’s no need to go to the extreme we’re all one big happy family in UCLA and what happened was just an accident and I didn’t even mean it so if you could just allow me to leave I promise you it won’t happen again and you won’t even have to see me anymore...”

  “Uhm, Gary?” the smaller of the two spoke. “She’s talking too fast.”

  Damn! I was! Oh crap...

  “Which makes her even more annoying,” the one named Gary said. “You did something wrong, freshie. We must honor tradition. You have to be punished.”

  “What?! No, no, no... I didn’t even mean it,” I tried to reason out as panic was taking over me.

  “Herbert, go get that chair over there,” Gary instructed his companion. Herbert quickly obliged and pulled up the seat that was just outside the room nearest us. Gary sat down and smiled quite maliciously.

  I had a bad feeling about what he had in mind.

  “Now freshie, if you could do one thing, just one simple thing, then everything will be forgiven and forgotten,” Gary spoke.

  “W-What do I have to do?” I asked nervously.

  “Nothing much. Just a quick lap dance,” he replied with the most perverse smile I’ve ever seen.

  I was frozen where I stood. I looked around and everyone - everyone - in the hallway was watching us. What were they thinking? Did I have their sympathy? Or were they expecting me to comply with his ridiculous demand?

  “What are you waiting for, freshie?” Gary impatiently asked. “Do we have to strip you so that you’d be able to... relate... to your role?” He chuckled as if he said something witty.

  I wanted to slap his face. He was disrespecting me immensely. But I couldn’t. I wasn’t that brave, and I didn’t know how others would feel if I dishonored the school’s stupid custom.

  I closed my eyes and prayed...

  For an earthquake so that everyone would scamper to safety and I’d be able to escape that predicament...

  For a teacher to pass by and break things up, though I doubted if the teacher would be amenable to breaking a tradition that he also endured when he was a freshman...

  For the bell to ring so that people, including this Gary and this Herbert, would rush to their classes and leave me be...

  “What the fuck, freshie?!” Gary berated me. “We don’t have all day! Go dance and make it sexy!”

  “But...” I tried one last plea.

  “Don’t you go breaking tradition, freshie!” he told me off. “Move those damn hips and be quick about it. Or do you need some music?”

  Herbert started humming some tune that one could expect from a strip club. Gary laughed and motioned for me to do as he ordered.

  “Why don’t you dance instead?” someone asked from behind them.

  They turned around to see who it was. My eyes followed theirs.

  And there he stood.

  The guy who, just last night, acted like the biggest asshole in the world. The guy whose heart I was supposed to break as part of a bet, and though we won that wager, I doubted if I even left the slightest dent on his stone cold soul.

  Yet he was there, cool and poised as usual, looking marvelous in his untucked black long-sleeved shirt which was made out of fine linen, its sleeves folded up to his elbows, his jeans a perfect fit for his fine, fine form, and his sneakers - a pair of Retro Jordans - which were very much similar to mine.

  And he stood up for me, against the two jerks who wanted to humiliate me for the simplest of transgressions.

  He stood tall. He stood brave. He stood... heroic?

  Gary got up from his seat and grabbed the chair by its backrest, preparing it as a weapon that he could use. He approached Hayden and Herbert followed him.

  “You have a problem with the way we do things here, Summermith?” he aggressively asked, as if he was challenging him to a fight.

  “Frankly, I don’t care if she’d dance for you,” he answered cockily with his trademark smirk. “I’d actually enjoy it with you guys, even.”

  What?!

  That jerk!

  “My problem is that, well, she’s my sister,” he added. “And, much as I don’t want to get involved, family is family and I will have to... protect her.” He ended his statement with a sigh.

  It was the first time he ever referred to me as his sister. There was something deeply touching and weirdly bothersome about the way he said it.

  “Oh... what motherfucking luck!” Gary retorted. “This goddamn school has already been defiled by one Summersmith... now we have to deal with two of them?”


  “I know, right?” Hayden chuckled. “We’re like gremlins. A single drop of water makes us multiply. Don’t dare feed us after midnight, though.”

  “Stop your fucking wisecracks, Summersmith!” Gary screamed at him. “The freshie’s ours. She wronged us. She must pay the price. That’s the school’s tradition. You, of all people, should know how to value tradition, correct?”