"Penny!" I swear that half my conversations with my best friend consist of me trying to stop the fucked up shit that comes out of her mouth.
"Yeah, you get a nice, long look at that tat, Maddy,” she purrs suggestively. “Even better if it's good and hard at the time. Maybe you could even get down and give it a little kiss. Maybe open your mouth and --"
"OK, I'm hanging up now!" I cut her off and disconnect the call. It's OK, she's used to it. Most of my calls to Penny end the same way.
For the next ten minutes I stay safely hidden under the sheets, wishing I could just have the house to myself again; wishing I didn't have to worry about the guy in the next room over. Eventually, though, I figure I may as well tear the band aid off quickly. Rafe isn't going anywhere, and I know I'll have to face my embarrassment sooner or later.
Second impressions are a thing, right?
Once again I change – making damned sure the door is locked this time – back into my boring chinos and white blouse. I don't care how cool I look now, so long as I'm covered up. Now the My Little Pony panties have made an appearance the idea that Rafe could ever think I'm cool, edgy or sexy is pretty much out the window. From now on I'll always be the kid with the cartoon panties.
When I'm completely certain I haven't popped a button or torn a hole in my pants I unlock my bedroom door and slip out into the hallway, then stand silently for a minute to psych myself up before knocking on Rafe's bedroom door.
Get it together, girl! This is your house! Fuck, why does he make me feel like I need to ask permission to speak?
With one final slow, deep breath I tap on the door.
"Yeah?" Rafe's voice calls out.
"Ummm, it's Madison. Can I come in?"
"Whatever."
I push open the door, and right away I'm met by the smell of smoke coming the other way. Rafe sits on the windowsill, one leg hanging out the window, with a cigarette hanging from his lips as he lazily flips through the pages of a dog-eared book.
"What?" he demands, the cigarette bobbing up and down as he speaks.
I'm fucking enraged, my embarrassment forgotten. "What the hell do you think you're doing? You can't smoke in here!" I just can't believe he's lighting up in my house, like that's a completely normal thing to do.
Rafe snorts. "Sure I can. It's my room, right? Or do I need to put a glittery 'Prince Rafe' sign on the door before I can do want I want in here?"
I cough. The smoke doesn't really bother me, but I want to make a point. "Look, this is my house, and there's no smoking in my house."
Rafe shakes his head with derision, blows a stream of smoke through pursed lips and flicks his butt out the window, down to the driveway. "Whatever you say, your majesty. Are there any other rules you'd like to give me? No girls? No noise after 10PM? Do I have to provide my own pair of My Little Pony panties, or will they be issued along with my prison stripes?"
I flush pink with anger and embarrassment. "You leave my fucking panties out of this!"
Rafe laughs as he rolls his Zippo lighter along the leg of his jeans, striking a flame. "Wow, you have a special pair of fucking panties? Maybe you're not as prudish as you look."
"What?" It takes me a second to figure out what he meant. "Oh, fuck you, Rafe."
"Sure thing. Just strip down to your cute little fucking panties and I'll go find my boning boxers." He reaches into his pocket, slips out a crumpled soft pack of Marlboros and pulls out another. "Nah, I'm just kidding." He tugs down the waist of his jeans to show me an expanse of naked, tanned, muscular thigh. "I go commando. Smoke?"
I glare at him and speak slowly, emphasizing each word. "I. Don't. Smoke." I'm mad as hell, but in the back of my mind I can't help but imagine his cock just hanging loose beneath those jeans.
Rafe smiles as he slips the cigarette between his lips. "Good for you, doll. These things'll kill you." He nods towards the door as he strikes the lighter again. "Now if you wouldn't mind I'd like a little privacy. I'm really getting into my book. Gotta see what happens to this hungry caterpillar, y'know?"
I stand for a moment in the doorway, glaring at Rafe as if daring him to light the cigarette. He just flips the pages of his book calmly, striking and closing the lighter, the Marlboro still hanging from his lips. Eventually he glances up at my as if he'd forgotten I was there. "You can close the door on your way out, sweet cheeks."
I'm too mad to speak. It's all I can do to back out of the room and slam the door without every cell in my body exploding with anger, and I only get madder when I hear Rafe's cheerful, mocking voice on the other side. "There's a good girl."
I stand silently in the hallway for a full minute until my heart stops pounding, wondering all the while if the world might not be a much better place if I was to storm back in, stride across to the window and push that asshole out of it. I just can't believe it. He's been in the house ten minutes, and already he's made me so mad I want to scream.
Well, fuck him. He might have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, and maybe I do feel myself getting wet whenever I so much as think of him looking in my direction, but he's nothing but a pain in the ass thug. Mom was right about him, and the day he leaves the two of us will throw a God damned party.
I just wish the stupid, Neanderthal part of my brain would shut up and listen. I can't stand this asshole, so why is it that that little Stone Age woman living in my head wants him to drag me back to his cave and fuck me three ways 'til Tuesday? How can I want to push him out a window and beg him to tear off my panties at the same time?
Stupid, horny brain.
Penny's raucous laugh drowns out the sound of the stereo for a moment, and a few dancers look around to see what's going on. I blush at the attention, and sink deeper into the sofa.
"Honey, you don't really wear My Little Pony panties, right? Please tell me you're making that part up." Penny takes a sip from her beer, dribbling it down her chin as she lets out an involuntarily giggle.
I punch her on the shoulder. "Sshhhh! Not so loud! It was my laundry day underwear, OK? They're just an old pair of panties I've had for years. Let's not make a federal case out of it. They're just panties. End of story."
Penny gives me a sidelong glance and lowers her voice. "But... well, you're not wearing them now, are you?"
"No!" I reach down to my waist and pull out a little pink lacy fabric with my thumb. "Look, regular non-weird panties. Jesus, I'm not gonna come to a party in cartoon underwear. What if I met a guy?"
Penny looks around the room at the dozens of young guys dancing around us. "Honey, half these guys would screw you if you were wearing your grampa's unwashed old jockeys. The other half would get so turned on by a cute girl in a pair of cartoon panties they'd come before they even touched you."
I cringe. "Ewww, that's so fucking gross, Pen." I look around the room with distaste, trying to guess just how many of the college freshmen in the room have a schoolgirl fetish. "You're making me lose my girl boner."
Penny laughs. "What can I tell you, Mad? Guys are all fucked up in the head, every last one of them. Still, they're a lot of fun once you sort through the assholes and find a good one."
I nudge her in the ribs and whisper. "Uh oh. Brace yourself. Nightmare at 3 o'clock."
Penny looks confused until she turns and spots the girl approaching the couch. Manda Sloane, the hostess of the party, has us in her sights, and it looks like there's no escape. The broad, slightly crazed grin on her face is explained by the half empty bottle of tequila swinging loosely from her hand as she weaves her way through the crowd.
"Ladies!" Manda yells, loud enough to carry over the music. "What are you doing sittin' on the couch like a couple of grandmas?"
I smile politely. "Oh, we're just taking a break from the dance floor. Don't worry about us." I can't stand Manda, but there's no getting around the fact that the girl throw the best parties in town. Her dad owns this massive 10 bedroom house, his job takes him to Stuttgart twice a month, and he's so desperate to make sure his
ex-wife is miserable that he'd put up with anything to stop Manda from moving in with her mother, including cleanup costs that often run into the thousands of dollars after every epic rager. Everyone between the age of 17 and 25 for ten miles around knows about Manda's legendary house parties, but only 1% of them ever get through the door. It's a close run thing, but it's just about worth putting up with Manda's grating personality to get into that 1%.
"No break. Drink!" Manda barks, holding out the tequila with one hand and a plate of salt and lime with the other.
Penny puts on a convincing fake smile. "Oh, we've already had too much, Manda, but thanks anyway."
"No! Drink! Drink drink drink drink drink." She spins around and drops herself on the sofa between the two of us, forcing us both to hop out of the way to avoid her swiftly approaching ass. "My party, my rules."
I catch Penny's eye, passing a silent message. Let's just humor her for a minute. I shake a little salt out on the back of my hand, grab a slice of lime and pass the plate across to Penny.
Manda takes a swig straight from the bottle, swallows and winces. "Soooo, girls, what's the gossip? Lay it on me, sisters."
I take the bottle, lick the salt and take a swig before biting the lime. Fuck, I hate tequila! I can't stand this shit, but it's worth it to keep from talking.
Penny steps in. "No gossip, Manda. It's been pretty quiet lately."
Manda almost hops in her seat as she turns to me. "Wait! Didn't I hear something about a deadbeat brother?" She nods to herself. "Yeah, your dad has some kind of criminal son, right?"
I don't know how Manda does it. Only a couple of people know about Rafe, but somehow word has reached the gossip queen of California.
"Ummm, yeah," I admit. "He arrived this afternoon."
"That's, like, soooo fucking cool, Maddy! I always wanted a brother, but then, y'know, dad's vasectomy, mom's affair, the divorce, yada yada yada. Wasn't on the cards, I guess. So what's he like? I hear he killed a guy."
I laugh. "What?! No! No, nothing like that. He just... well, he stole a car. Well, I don't know if he stole it, stole it, but he took it for a joyride."
Manda shakes her head in wonder. "That's just, like, soooo badass. Is he hot?"
The question takes me by surprise. "What? I don't know! I mean no! I don't care!"
Manda turns to Penny and flashes an evil grin. "I knew it. He's hot. She likes him, right?"
Now that the conversation has turned to mocking me Penny wants in on the action. "That's exactly what I said! She was all gross, he's my brother, but I can tell. She gets all googly eyed when she talks about him. I swear she's been burning holes through all her panties ever since she first saw his picture."
Manda jumps up in her seat again, bouncing the sofa cushions and spilling tequila on the carpet. "Ooh! You have a photo? Lemme see lemme see lemme see!"
I sigh. There's really no choice. Manda can be dangerously fickle, and the slightest little thing could trigger a grudge that would push me into the 99% who have their faces pressed against the window of her parties. I pull out my phone and scroll until I reach the photo I copied from Karl's cell. "Here."
Manda stares at the picture for a moment, trying to focus on the screen through bleary, tequila blurred eyes. Eventually she turns to me with her mouth wide open. "This is your brother? This guy? Are you fucking serious?"
I frown and shoot a confused glance at Penny. "Ummm, yeah. Why?"
"He's called Rafe, right? Tell me I'm not going crazy?"
I'm shocked. Manda's gossip network is good, but how the fuck did she get his name? "Yeah, Rafe. How the hell did you know that?"
Manda bursts out laughing. "I know because this fucking hottie's in my den right now, surrounded by every girl in the state fighting over who gets to fuck him."
"Rafe's here? Why? How?" I'm sure there must be some mistake. Why would Rafe gatecrash a stranger's party?
"Why?" Manda repeats. "I don't know, but it's probably because I throw the most kickass parties. As for how, I guess he just walked through the door. A guy who looks like that wouldn't need an invitation to climb into my bed. He sure as hell doesn't need one to walk into a party."
I can't explain why, but the idea that Rafe has come to my party really pisses me off. With an attitude as bad as his he doesn't deserve to have fun. He should be at home, sat at his window smoking his cigarettes like a tool. He certainly shouldn't be at a party, and especially not if he's getting the attention of my friends.
"Lemme guess," I say, "he's standing around in a tight t-shirt with a cigarette, doing a shitty impression of James Dean for a bunch of dumbass girls who fall for his bad boy act."
Manda frowns. "Ummm, no, that doesn't sound like him at all. Wait, lemme see the photo again. "She holds the phone steady with two hands and squints. "No, that's definitely him. He's soooo fucking talented."
"Talented?" I ask, surprised. "At what?"
Manda smiles, reaches out and takes my hand, picking the right blurry shape at the second attempt. "Come on, I'll show you. God, you're so lucky."
I turn to Penny as Manda pulls me from the couch, beckoning her along. "Come on, Pen." I lower my voice to a whisper. "Don't leave me alone with..." I tilt my head towards Manda.
Penny's out of her seat before I even finish speaking. "Hey, you don't have to ask me twice. I want to see this hot asshole who got your My Little Pony panties in a bunch. Lead the way, Manda."
Manda guides me and Penny through the labyrinthine house, avoiding the drunken crowds and stepping over the slumbering bodies of those who've already let the booze get the better of them. There are always a few newbies who don't know how to pace themselves. They'll quickly learn their lesson when they wake in the morning with shaved eyebrows and cocks drawn on their faces.
The house really is huge. I expected the den to be... well, like a den, just a small room somewhere in the back of the house, but it's actually an entire outbuilding halfway down the enormous garden. Manda finds a way into the building in the dark, almost pulls all three of us into a hot tub that's in the middle of the hallway for some reason, and then finally leads us through a set of French doors into what could easily be the rehearsal area for a small but very comfortable orchestra. A couple of couches are arranged to face a beautiful glossy black grand piano. About two dozen people – mostly girls – are sat on the couches and the floor around them, their eyes fixed on the guy playing in the darkness.
It seems as if nobody has been able to find a light switch, so the piano is bathed in the light of the moon streaming from above through a skylight. Everything else is shrouded in darkness, the only other light being the dim glow of a cigarette that has burned down to the filter, forgotten, in an ashtray sitting on the piano beside a tumbler of whiskey.
I peer through the darkness, trying to make out the figure sitting on the stool before the piano. That can't really be him, right? I pick my way carefully over a few resting bodies until I can get a better view, and as I approach the piano the moon emerges from behind a cloud and sends a shaft of light down from above.
Rafe plays with his eyes closed, his fingers dancing gently across the keys as if the music is flowing from his soul. He's dressed in the same torn, scruffy jeans and t-shirt he was wearing earlier, but his expression makes him look like an entirely different person. As the music flows through his fingers his face softens. Gone is the smug, dickish smirk, and his brow is no longer furrowed in a belligerent scowl. As he plays he looks at peace, as if the music has allowed him to step out of himself, if only for a moment.
"That's the song from, ummm, Ocean's 11, right?" Penny whispers in my ear.
"Yeah," I reply, still staring at Rafe's fingers caressing the keys. "It's called Claire de Lune."
Stepbrother Fallen Page 3
