by Anne Leigh
“It’s oatmeal.” I replied, pulling the cookie sheet out of the oven to allow the fourth batch of chocolate chip cookies to cool.
“Since when did you start making oatmeal...” Her words trailed off for a few seconds then she yelled, “Goodness gracious Brynn, you naughty, naughty bitch! You tapped Kieran’s teeny doinky, didn’t you? You did the naughty with him.” I had told her that Kieran loved oatmeal cookies.
“How did you figure out I slept with him? Just because I just baked him cookies?” My face burned red in embarrassment. Kieran didn’t have a teeny doinky. He had a massive doinky that warranted many doink-a-thons.
“Well, I didn’t. I’m just fishing for juicy details…My, my, Brynnie you blushin’?’“ She teased as her hands played with her phone. “I hope the son of Poseidon didn’t disappoint in bed.” Ava loved to read about the sexy sons of the Greeks. She said that those were the timeless love stories; they never grew old.
I kept a tight lid on my mouth. I was so not spilling the beans with her. Okay I was, but only after she goaded me into it.
She almost hit my face with her phone as I stood up, loading the next batch of cookies in the oven. In front of the screen was a zoomed image of Kieran in his trunks. Ava tapped the phone and Kieran’s ‘package’ filled the screen.
“So was he good?” She pointed to the center of the screen. I grabbed the phone from her. Ugh. Ava was a force to be reckoned with.
I chewed on my lip and gave her a tight smile. “He was better than good.”
“Hip freakin’ hooray!” She did a little jiggle with her hips and wiggled her butt. Some screws were knocked loose in her head sometime between infancy to the present. “Don’t spare me the details. At least you’ve been de-virginized twice now.”
How could someone be de-virginized twice? From the way she talked, you’d never guess she was an ICU nurse. Ava went into nursing school with me because she didn’t know what she wanted to be in college. With her family’s wealth, she’d never have to work a day in her life. She waited for me for almost a year before enrolling in college. Due to the fact that I was in and out of the hospital, my schooling had suffered, but I caught up with my classes as soon as I had the strength to do so, and took extra summer classes when I could. We might not be sisters, but I considered her as if we shared the same blood. She visited me almost every day in the hospital and brought me the silliest things. During the times when I was too sick to have visitors, she wrote me letters and left tiny packages for me with the nurses. She went into nursing because she liked the nurses who took care of me, she wanted to defend me from my future classmates, and she reasoned that she needed a college degree. It would be like killing three birds with one stone. It turned out that she was one of the smartest students in our nursing class. The nursing instructors hated her because she liked to challenge their opinions. Nonetheless, she got really good grades, better than mine. She processed and retained information like a computer. She went out all the time to attend the media functions and promotional events her parents asked her to because she was the face of her father’s company, but she never showed any tiredness during clinical rotations. The only reason that she was working part-time in the ICU was because she was now the head of the promotional/social media/marketing campaigns full-time and it required her to attend tons of social gatherings, in and out of the country.
“Ava, there are a lot of guys who would be willing to charge that V-card of yours anytime,” I mumbled, rolling the oatmeal cookie dough between my palms to form them into balls before placing them one to two-inch apart on the cookie sheets. “It’s just up to you.”
She was half-listening, her attention on her phone again. “I know. I’m just not ready. Who knows? Maybe I’ll be ready when I’m forty. I’d like to join Steve in the 40 year old virgin club,” she joked. I knew what she was looking for. She was hoping to have those Grecian love stories come to life as her own love story. I’ve told her many times that those stories ended up in tragedies, but she was a firm believer that she would have that kind of love. Who was I to contradict her? I just wanted her to be happy. She’s had a few boyfriends but they never went past second base. The newspapers and gossip magazines touted that she replaced boys like most women replaced shoes. The truth could not be any farther from that. She ditched them because they wanted intimacy with her and she just wasn’t ready. When she felt that they were pushing her, she dumped them like an old bag of tricks.
“Brynn look at this,” she enthused, questions about Kieran forgotten. The timer was set on the oven. I arranged the chocolate chip cookies on a serving platter, placing it next to the other two platters. Milo was going to be happy when he saw them later. He would finish them in record time, no doubt. Probably faster than his split times in a 100 meter race.
I took the phone from her outstretched hand. It was a video of Kieran being interviewed by the Sports Channel. The video was dated two days ago. Last night over the phone, he off-handedly mentioned he had done an interview, as if it was no big deal. I was actually thinking of looking it up, so now was as good of a time as any to watch it.
Ava brought her iPad to the table. “Let’s watch it here. Bigger screen.”
Kieran was doing a one-on-one interview with Denise Jenks, a brown-eyed, Hispanic beauty, and Sport Channel’s revered female anchor. He was wearing a red shirt with his sponsor, SwimFit’s, logo. His dark blond hair was in its signature, rumpled mess with his light brown eyes focused on Denise. His boyish good looks seemed highlighted on the screen next to her.
Ava let out a sigh. “He’s one handsome fella girlfriend.”
I turned up the volume on the side panel of the iPad, shushing Ava.
It was a 10-minute interview with no commercial breaks, according to the video description.
Denise: We are here with the country’s number one swimmer, Kieran Stone. Thanks for stopping by our studio today Kieran.
Kieran: You’re welcome. Thanks for having me.
Denise: Let’s dive right in. Pun intended (Kieran gave her a small grin.) What is it that makes you so different from the rest of the swimmers? It has been said that your powerful strokes can cut like a samurai sword in the water. Your reaction time is unlike any other athlete. You are presently the long-course record holder in the 100-meter butterfly, 200-meter butterfly, and 400-meter individual medley. Since the Pan Pacific Championships, where Milo Tanner beat you in the 200-meter freestyle, with the time of 1:45.63, there is talk that Milo is coming into his own, and you’re going to be head-to-head with him again in the World Championships in Shanghai. What do you say to this rivalry? Does this bother you?
Kieran: I don’t compare myself to others. I’m just me.
Denise: Milo has been outspoken about his desire to beat you in every event, any comments on that?
Typical of my brother, he was obnoxious and arrogant, but he backed it up. He really must want to beat Kieran if he is speaking to the media about this. Unless the media was fabricating stories again, like they always did.
Kieran: I have no comment. Like I said, I mind my own thing.
Denise: I have heard rumors that you and Milo have a strained relationship. Is there any truth to this?
Kieran: It is what it is.
Denise: And what is it?
Wow, the press can really be relentless and ruthless. Looks were deceiving, because Denise had an angelic face but her words bit like a snake.
Kieran: We belong to the same team. We swim for our country. We have a few events together, and we’re usually both on the 4 x 100 medley relay team.
Kieran was getting sharp-tongued, his voice held a snarky edge. The questions were trying his patience, and being specifically asked about my brother just added to the sting.
Denise: How is your shoulder? Your coach assured us that you are okay. Is your old injury bothering you?
At least she had the common sense to change her line of questioning.
Kieran: I’m fine. I wouldn’t compete if I d
idn’t believe I was at a hundred percent.
Ava’s voice cut through the interview so I pressed pause on the screen. “Kieran has the charm of a senator being put on trial. Gosh Brynn he doesn’t even smile.”
I agreed with her. “He hates interviews. He only does it because they’re required.”
She replied, tapping her forefinger on the bottom of her chin, “I can teach him how to become a media darling.”
I let out a resigned huff. “You can try. Kieran’s not very talkative. It’s like he counts his words the way he counts his strokes in the water.”
Her gray eyes glinted playfully. “How about in bed? Does he count his strokes?”
“No. Definitely not.” I joined her in a fit of giggles.
When our giggles died, I pressed play and we continued watching the interview. Denise asked Kieran questions about his practice times, diet, and training. Kieran answered them with as much enthusiasm as a child being put in time-out. He really had no compulsion to be a media darling. The interview was coming to a close.
Denise: Kieran, a lot of ladies are asking if you are single. Are you?
Kieran’s eyes turned dark, the only hint of any type of emotion during the whole interview.
Kieran: That’s really not anybody’s business.
Denise: (Her smile faltered a bit) What’s your ideal girl?
Kieran: Still none of anyone’s business.
If you looked closely, you could tell he was not happy with the barrage of personal questions because his left eye was slightly twitching.
Denise was not backing off. She smiled prettily, and was probably hoping it would persuade Kieran to give up some information.
Denise: For a woman to have any chance with you, do you require anything from her?
He took a long look at the camera, let out a measured sigh, and finally said, “She has to smell like vanilla.”
Denise ended the interview with a happy smile and her signature phrase. “Thanks for watching us on ‘What’s Happening Now’. Until next time. Have a great evening.”
Ava jumped up from her seat. “Oh Holy Moses! Kieran has useless charm on TV, but I bet you tons of ladies will be stocking up on vanilla-scented lotions and perfumes tonight, and they’ll definitely be wearing it around him.” She then answered her phone that was ringing non-stop.
I walked towards the counter and texted Kieran.
Me: I heard you like vanilla on a girl.
In a matter of seconds, my phone buzzed.
Kieran: On you, only on you. Vanilla and honey.
Me: You still in training?
Kieran: Almost done for the day.
Me: You want me to come over?
Kieran: Yes you will be ‘coming’ later.
Me: Ha
Kieran: It’s true.
Me: I saw the interview with Denise.
Kieran: Yeah?
Me: Yeah. It’s a good thing you’re good-looking or else you’d have no way of charming the masses.
Kieran: Don’t need to charm them. Only you.
Me: Whatevs.
Kieran: So you want me to make you ‘come’ later?
Me: Doesn’t your suit get tight when you have a hard-on?
Kieran: I have ways of preventing it from showing.
Me: Ha
Kieran: So you want me to?
Me: After you.
Kieran: Honey you forget I can swim miles in a day. I’ll make you go for miles before me.
Me: Lol. I baked you cookies.
Kieran: I want to eat your cookie.
Me: Lmao
Kieran: Your ass won’t be laughing later. Thanks for the cookies.
Me: You’re welcome
Kieran: See you later
Me: Ok later
Later that night, as I wrapped my arms around his bare chest, after he gorged on my cookie and made me come in many ways, he gently rubbed his hands against my arms. “Brynn, I don’t want to hide you anymore.”
My neck tensed. He instantly felt it because he started massaging the grooves between my shoulders. “Kieran, you know why we can’t tell anyone.”
He inhaled a long breath and on his exhale, replied, “I know. I’m just saying I don’t want to hide you anymore.”
I didn’t answer because I had none to offer. I didn’t want him to hide me either. In a parallel universe, things would be easier for us. I would not be the sister of his biggest rival, and the person who slept with my brother’s first love would not be Kieran.
I fell asleep not knowing what to do. In Kieran’s arms, I found the comfort that I didn’t know I was missing. For the first time in my life, I was thinking, “What if Milo was not my brother?” I pushed the thought away because there was no better brother than Milo. What would I do, if Milo found out? How would I even bring it up to him? These questions invaded my sleep. In the middle of the night, I found myself reaching out for Kieran’s arms because in him I found a sense of peace and a blanket of hope that I could be anything. As long as I was in his arms, I would be okay.
“I wish to see an alligator.”
~J.P. age 7, Wilms’ tumor
“Hurry up, Bee!” I heard Milo’s voice shouting from the living room.
Ava was fixing my hair in loose, wavy, tumbled curls. She was primping me for a night out with my brother and his friends.
What kind of girl hung out with her brother and his friends? Me, that’s who.
Milo had managed to convince me to check out this new club. He reasoned that he needed his sister to be the “Designated Driver.” From the amount of torture that Ava was subjecting my hair to, spraying it with mousse, heat protecting it, and wrapping it in 2-inch sections, it actually felt like she had been doing this for over an hour. Milo was going to have to find another DD because I wanted my piña colada, or maybe five tonight after all of this torment.
“Girlfriend, you are one hot POA.” POA was short for ‘piece of ass.’ Ava had an inkling for shortening names or words as it suited her mood.
I checked my reflection in the mirror. I was wearing a fitted, shimmery, gold chiffon dress that stopped just three inches above my knees. My hair flowed as wavy, soft curls fell down my back. Small gold hoop earrings adorned my ears. My eyes looked bluer with a smoky eye application that Ava applied. I usually did my own make-up, but tonight she insisted on doing it for me. Ava could convince me to wear one of those skintight leopard dresses, if she really wanted. She had the persuasive powers of a businesswoman, politician, and world leader combined. After all, her dad was the most powerful man in Vegas, and being his progeny, she must have inherited those characteristics of influence from him.
“Put on your hooker shoes,” she instructed, handing me the ridiculously expensive designer gold shoes with red bottoms that she had given me for my birthday last year. They were far from being hooker shoes. She just liked to call them that because they were the highest heeled shoes out of my measly collection. I collected recipes, not shoes. Excuse me, Miss Las Vegas.
“Let’s go before my brother has a hissy fit,” I muttered as we headed into the living room.
Leif saw me first because he was facing the hallway leading up to my bedroom. “Whoa there, hot stuff. Stop right there.” He grabbed his phone from the ottoman in front of him and was poised to take a picture with its camera when a couch pillow flew in front of his face, hitting his head.
“That’s my sister, you moron.” Milo stood up from the couch and looked at me. “Your dress is missing half the fabric, Bee.”
I rolled my eyes and snickered. “Shut up. We have to go,” I scolded as I grabbed my purse from the side table.
Milo was still standing in place, his eyes flying to Ava. “Well, look at you princess, your dress looks like it’s a Band-Aid strip. I’m thinking you’re the one who convinced Brynn to look like you.”
Ava’s gray eyes smoldered. “It’s Herve Leger, you idiot. It’s supposed to look like this, on a body like mine.” She swayed her hips and sauntered like th
e camera-ready butterfly that she was towards the door. Her dress was a red, sleeveless V-neck with allover bandage appliqué, the spandex material conforming to her body. Leif coughed once, then twice as he followed Ava’s showcase of legs and curves.
Milo’s green eyes turned darker. “Bee, if we didn’t have reservations...” He paused, he looked like he wanted to argue this topic more, but I stomped my gold heels down, interjecting, “You know what, let’s just get out of here.”
Inside Milo’s Audi Q5—my brother’s prized possession, which he bought after signing a major deal with his sponsor, WaterTech—Ava kept the conversation alive by trading barbs and insults with Leif. Milo was quiet, but once in a while, he chimed in, and Ava would shut him down. Ava was the only one who could do that to Milo. I knew what Milo’s true feelings and opinions for Ava were, but he didn’t dare speak them aloud because it would be hurtful to her, which in turn would hurt me. He might think that Ava’s a ‘slut’ or a ‘bitch’, but he gave her props for sticking up for me in first grade and for being my bestie throughout the years.
