With the jacuzzi filling up, I try again with Tilly.
“The time would pass much faster if we got along, you know.”
“The time is passing just fine, thanks.”
“You going to join me?”
“I told you, I don’t have my bikini.”
“I don’t have my bikini either, but it’s not going to stop me. It’s exactly what your body needs after a long walk. A bath and a massage.”
“No, thank you.”
“Not even the massage part?”
Tilly looks over towards me, out over the top of her sunglasses like Rachel has a tendency to do.
“You’re going to give me a massage? You?”
“I might if I knew you’d appreciate it.”
“I think that’s one step too far, don’t you? The great Landon Maddox doing something for someone else for a change. What would the papers say? It might ruin your reputation.”
“Suit yourself.”
She’s back to her book now, but I know she’s thinking about it. My hands all over her skin, caressing the parts of her body the sun isn’t reaching. The parts no-one has touched for a while.
I catch myself wondering if she regularly masturbates. I catch myself thinking that I might have to soon.
“The water is the perfect temperature.”
“So make sure you enjoy it before it goes cold.”
I don’t have my swimming trunks, but fuck it, I’m not going to let that hold me back. My feet are so sore from that walk they need soaking. I’m not going to come to a property that has a jacuzzi and not use it.
“You’re not going to offer to give me one?”
“There is no part of you that needs any more massaging, Landon.”
I beg to differ. There’s one very specific part of me that would respond extremely well to that. I watch Tilly turn the page, but I know already she’s stopped reading the book. She stopped when I took my T-shirt off and pretended not to look.
Maybe it’s best she doesn’t get in with me based on what happened at the end of the garden this morning. I thought it would be easier to hold myself back, but I guess not. I must be even more virile than I thought I was. It doesn’t help that she’s hot either. Annoying maybe, but definitely hot. I mean I know she’s my step sister and everything but a man can be objective.
“Are you just going to stand there or are you going to get in it?”
I’ve got to stop thinking like this. There is no way that this can end well if I carry on along this road. I imagine the headlines as I slowly peel away the rest of my layers, making sure I’m doing so in plain view of Tilly. I’m playing with fire but I can’t help it. It’s only day two as well. What the hell is going to happen on day seven?
Landon Maddox in shock affair with his stepsister. Landon Maddox couldn’t keep it in his pants. The family member that ended Maddox’s career. The Donkey falls in love.
Fuck. Where the hell did that come from?
Tilly slams her book shut, and without even taking a single look at me, stood there in my boxer shorts like a Roman God, slides open the French windows and heads on inside.
A moment later, water spills insultingly out of the top of the jacuzzi, seeping quickly through the decking towards the dry earth below.
Three.
Tilly
I can’t sleep, and this time it’s not because The Donkey keeps me up with his incessant pissing, or ridiculous games, it’s because, for one reason or another, I can’t get the loud-mouthed, can’t-do-anything-wrong, star athlete out of my head. I can’t tell you how annoying that is either. First he invades my world, and then he invades my head. The next thing he’ll be doing is invading my dreams. He might already be there if I could sleep for long enough to find out.
The mattress is incredible uncomfortable, and half way through the night I have to turn it over just to see if it’ll make any difference. It doesn’t. I don’t know how much more I can take of this. We should be taking turns, but I know Landon will just tell me to put the mattress back on the bed it came from and quit whining. There isn’t any real reason for me not to sleep in there either, except I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing any more of my flesh than he deserves too. That’s why I’m sleeping in my track pants, even though it’s damn hot with them on. I’m not going to let him have more ammunition to mock me with.
I finally fall asleep at around five am, just when the morning light is breaking through and the room takes on a kind of milky, ethereal haze, and what seems like less than a moment later, I’m woken up by Mom and Marvin eating breakfast loudly at the table above me. Actually, it’s Mom’s foot in my gut that does it, apparently an accidental swipe as she stretches out her legs.
Wide awake again, and with the house now up, it’s going to be impossible to get back to sleep, so I don’t even bother trying. I can’t have slept more than two hours. My head hurts, my back hurts, my brain hurts and my mouth is dry. This vacation sucks.
“Morning, Tilly.”
“What time is it?”
“Nine.”
“And it’s a beautiful day already”, Marvin adds.
I notice the drapes have already been drawn and the garden and decking is bathed in sunlight.
“You know I was sleeping, right?”
Mom avoids the question. “You want some breakfast?”
I don’t think I can face breakfast right now. I don’t think I can face anything but a darkened room and some relaxing music. Perhaps a massage. My eyes go to Landon’s still closed bedroom door.
“How come you have to wake me up and The Donkey gets to sleep in?”
“Landon? He left about an hour ago.”
“Left? Where?”
“For a run, I think. Said he was going crazy being cooped up.”
Instead of feeling jubilant that my new big brother is finally out of the way, I feel a little disappointed he’s disappeared, without even telling me. I shake the feeling away and blame lack of sleep for my clear emotional confusion.
“Coffee’s still warm if you want some.”
I drag the mattress back to Landon’s bedroom, not because it needs to be there, but because I want to see if Mom is right. She is. Besides a stack of clothes, a general mess and a musky boy smell that makes me want to lie down in his bed, and not because I’m tired either, he’s gone.
I dump the mattress down on his bed, partly because it’s easy for me to retrieve when I need it, mostly because it’s in his way and I know it’ll annoy him, and then I sit down on the bed next to it and take a look at the room that should be mine. We’ve only been here two days and he’s not only made it a mess, he’s completely made it his own.
I have a sudden urge to rifle through his belongings, dig for secrets at the bottom of his bag, or just take advantage somehow of his absence, but I’m not entirely sure where to begin, nor what it is I might be looking for, and the intimacy of the idea finally stops me.
“When is he going to be back?”
I sit down at the table, take two slices of cold toast out of the rack and lather them with honey and peanut butter.
“He didn’t say.”
“I thought we were supposed to be doing things as a family.”
The coffee may have been warm five minutes ago, or an hour ago when Mom first made it, but it definitely isn’t now.
“It’s only a run, honey, he’s not going to be out all day.”
“He did take his car.”
Marvin has a funny way of looking like he’s not listening, lost in some other task or activity, and then saying something, usually in a way that sounds like he’s saying it to himself, that proves he’s been listening all along.
I watch him let that comment fall, as though talking about the weather, which I suppose he could be because whether Landon has taken his car or not is really neither here nor there, turn the paper with a carefully saliva dampened finger tip and push the last of his toast into his mouth.
“His car?”
<
br /> Agreeing to come on a family holiday means that he’s not allowed to escape. This is against the rules. This is subversion on a massive level. This is. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me.
“He said something about getting a signal for his phone, checking in with his team, you know, something important like that. He is Shoreville’s most valuable player.”
“Mom, stop pretending you know about football when you don’t. You didn’t even know what MVP was until two days ago. And i’m sure Shoreville can cope without their troubled star for a few more days, it’s not like the world revolves around him.”
“Well it sounded important that’s all. I’m sure we can manage without him, or are you missing him that much already?”
“Yeah, right.”
“I can’t tell you how happy it makes us both to see you two getting along.”
Is she for real? Even Marvin is nodding. Landon and I getting along is like saying Trump and Obama are best friends.
“I wasn’t sure what to expect at first, you know with Landon being from such a different world to ours, but he’s such a genuinely nice guy, you don’t even think about it after five minutes.”
How can coffee heated in the microwave actually taste worse than cold coffee? It’s so bitter I almost spit it out without thinking.
“You know, I was worried he wouldn’t like my cooking, or get bored or, you know, whatever, but he’s been such a sweetheart, hasn’t he Marv?”
There’s that nodding again. No wonder Marvin is so meek, he’s grown up living in his son’s shadow.
“You know Landon is on his final warning at the club? You know he’s had problems with drugs, problems with violence and problems with women? You know about the car crash that almost ended his career, I presume.”
“I know how much baloney the papers make up. Anyway, you shouldn’t say bad things about your brother, I can tell you’re already missing him. An hour without him around and you’re pining for your playmate like a lost dog.”
“Are you serious? I don’t even know him.”
“Exactly, which is why you shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”
“And he’s my step brother anyway, not that I asked him to be.”
“And I know you well enough to tell you’re over the moon about it. It’s alright to admit that you like him, you know.”
Jesus, not Mom as well. What is this, liberal Americans week?
“Whatever. He can do what he likes as long as he leaves me alone.”
Jacuzzi, massage, pissing with the door open, sunbathing with his top off, smiling, poking fun, walking behind me, in front or alongside, whatever, as long as he leaves me alone.
Mom clears the dishes while Marvin focuses on the newspaper. I have to wrestle my plate back of her because I haven’t finished, and then explain why it’s taking me ten minutes to finish a slice of bread - sleep slowing everything down, Mom - to which I get the response:
“Landon would have polished that off in seconds. That boy can eat like a horse.”
Piss like one as well, I almost say.
Mom and Marvin have traditional roles, which would bother me, but doesn’t seem to bother them at all. Marvin is very much the trouser wearer, while Mom is happy to cook and clean and let him do his thing, which he does, very quietly and without much ruckus. Dad and Mom used to have blazing rows, but I can’t remember Marvin and Mom ever saying a crossed word to each other.
With Mom busying herself in the kitchen, and Marvin and I affectively alone at the table, I decide to do some digging. I’m hoping for some ammunition I can use against Landon later, if he comes back later of course. He’s left all of his stuff here so I presume he is. I hope he is too, even if it’s just so I can have a go at him.
“Marvin?”
Not so much a word as a gentle sound of agreement.
“What was Landon like when he was a boy? Do you have any embarrassing stories about him?”
“I’ve got plenty about you, Matilda.”
Jesus, this house really is too small.
“Mom, stay out, I want to find out about our super star.”
Marvin looks like he’s thinking. Reading the paper still, but thinking as well.
“Embarrassing stories about Landon?”
“Yeah, you know, the kind of things that he’s tried to forget about for years. The stories he wouldn’t want you to tell me.”
“Like that time you decided to go for a wee on stage, in the middle of the nativity play, in front of everyone. All the staff, all the parents, twenty film cameras.”
“Mom, I was four years old, and it wasn’t like I chose to do it, I couldn’t get to the bathroom in time, and it was a little bit of wee, you make it sound like I was peeing for hours. And no one had a film camera, you’ve just made that up.”
“Tracy has it on VHS, darling. She filmed all of the plays. Come to think of it, she might have even transferred it onto DVD. I’ll have to ask her about that.”
Every Christmas and every birthday without fail, Mom brings up that stupid story.
“Something like that?”
“Something exactly like that.”
I expect Landon has pissed all over a stage before. It’s undoubtedly something in his repertoire. Any excuse to get his huge dick out and swing it around. Alright, I’m exaggerating a little bit there. To be fair on him, despite countless confessions and hundreds of model shoots, Landon, to my knowledge, has never actually got his cock out and started swinging it around, just for publicity. It’s exactly the kind of thing I expect him to do, but, up to now at least, I have to hold my hands up and say he’s never done it, at least not in public. In private is a different matter entirely.
“Landon was always quite a shy boy growing up, he got bullied a lot for his height and his weight.”
Hold on. Landon fat and small? Landon a normal human being? That’s impossible.
“Bullied?”
“We had to move around a bit because of my job, which meant Landon was always in and out of schools, which is why he struggled to make friends. If I’m being entirely honest with you, I don’t think Landon’s ever made any friends, not real ones anyway.”
This is not really what I expected to hear.
“I mean he’s always had football, and his team mates from that, and things are a little different now, but he’s never really had a strong friendship group. I guess he takes after me in that respect at least. I always wanted to give him brothers and sisters, but things didn’t work out that way. It might explain why he can sometimes come across as abrasive or headstrong.”
Or arrogant and aloof. Not being able to form relationships makes perfect sense. He may think he’s perfect, but he’s hiding something broken inside.
“He took the divorce badly, and I don’t think he’s ever forgiven his Mom for leaving, but we don’t really talk about stuff like that. That’s probably my fault just as much as his to be fair.”
Marvin smiles softly, pushes his glasses up his nose and then goes back to his paper.
A psychological profile was not what I was after. I wanted a peeing his pants story, an embarrassing remark in front of a disliked boss, a hilarious gaff at a high profile sporting event. There’s no way that I’m going to be able to finish my toast now, not after a sob story that’s going to make me feel sorry for the millionaire playboy.
The morning ticks on, stuttering slowly into the afternoon as the sun climbs up into the cloudless sky over head.
After his initial mishap with the jacuzzi yesterday, Landon spent a large part of the evening out here in it, while Mom and Marvin followed my lead and declined an invite to join him. There are marks still on the grass below the decking, and the ones on the wood have only just dried up.
I read my book, I walk to the end of the garden, I make shapes out of clouds, I sit in silence in the bedroom that’s not mine and I wait for him. I hate to admit it, but I’m bored. I’m bored without him.
Mom and Marvin soak up the sun on the deck
, books or pamphlets or local information on their laps, lost in their own thoughts, happy in the comfort of each other and the silence the countryside brings. We eat lunch when we get hungry, a banquet of cheeses and breads and chutneys and sliced meats that Mom somehow conjures up from something, and in the afternoon we return to the garden, Mom and Marvin happy to relax once again, while I struggle to find something to do, my mind never too far away from him.
I imagine what it would be like, allowing myself, for the first time, to play with the ridiculous premise. Landon Maddox and I together, like I see Mom and Marvin being, both of us on our sun loungers spread out on the deck, comfortable in our silence. Our children where I am now, playing together at the end of the garden.
The image gets squashed by the reality, and I’m unable to avoid imagining Landon without picturing him in some kind of position of dominance, or acting in some way to court my attention, and as I continue to explore it, I begin to realize I wouldn’t want it any other way.
It amusing me to picture us both like this, not as enemies, or even as siblings, but as lovers, perhaps even secret lovers for a time being, until we are able to come out to Marvin and Mom and his coach and the Shoreville fans and everyone else who would be affected by that status.
Secret lovers. I explore the possibility in the comfortable confines of a fantasy, of a daydream. I know it would never happen, which protects the plausibility of imagining it.
Here, in my own head I can think about that huge appendage, that swinging dick going hard between my legs. I can think about that perfect body, that pantie-melting smile. Those eyes, those abs, those legs and arms. I can think about all of that because I know it will never happen.
It’ll never happen, not because he’s my stepbrother, but because I hate Landon Maddox. I hate him, because if I didn’t, I might not be able to hold myself back.
When I think the sun has gone behind a cloud, and I open my eyes just to check, there his is above my, smiling down like a lunatic. I’m not quick enough to hide the smile I give him back.
DONKEY: A Stepbrother Sports Romance (With FREE Bonus Novel Charged!) Page 7
