Douche: A Bad Boy Stepbrother Romance

by Chloe Plume

  Speaking of which, I have to deal with that hot mess lounging in my bed.

  I took a single, long sip of whisky, which always helped my hangovers, and marched out to the bedroom.

  She was still there, ass in the air, sprawled on top of my bed like she’d never let go.

  Holy fuck, that ass!

  It was a thing of beauty. Juicy and rounded, but firm, taut, and contoured perfectly. I wanted nothing more than to dive right back in, and I assume she wanted the same.

  Too bad for her.

  She broke the rules and stayed the night. I didn’t like that kind of commitment. Plus, I wanted my shirt back.

  “Alright, sleeping beauty,” I began. “Time to get out of here; hope you had fun.”

  “Zaaaydee,” she mumbled, yawning. “What time is it?”

  I pulled the blinds open to fill the room with some harsh, glaring L.A. sun.

  That should help.

  “It’s time to go.”

  She begrudgingly slipped out of bed and pulled up her skirt. Grabbing her heels, she walked right up to me and, before I could pull away, leaned in on the tips of her toes and pecked a kiss right on my lips.

  What the hell was that?

  She smiled and slinked out towards the door.

  Watching her go was a beautiful sight.

  This girl was hot, no doubt about it.

  Glossy blonde hair and a tight little body with that fucking ass sashaying out of my apartment—holy fuck, I almost stopped myself and called her back. Then again, she was like a dozen other girls I’d probably come across in the next…oh, I’d say week or so. And they’d throw themselves at me like this one. After all, there were thousands of them, and only one Zayde Knight.

  She turned seductively and I swear it almost worked. “Call me?”

  “Unlikely,” I said flatly.

  Her face tensed angrily, and I swear she didn’t look so pretty anymore. “You know what Zayde?!” she screamed. “You’re a Douche!”

  Story of my life.

  Chapter 3

  Madison

  My dad was supposed to pick me up from LAX, but the flight was delayed and he sent a driver instead. Charlene was probably at home, but she couldn’t be bothered. Besides, she never really liked me, though I tried. She seemed to be really insecure when it came to my dad’s affection, which I didn’t understand. I mean, my mom was dead—it’s not like he was going to get up one day and decide to get back with her. And I was off at boarding school most of the year, and next year I’d be up north in Stanford. Well…I’d given up on a good relationship with my step-mom and just told myself it was one of those things in life I couldn’t do anything about.

  The car pulled up to the wrought-iron gate in the late afternoon, so I was sure my dad wasn’t home yet. He worked late every day, although at this point he really didn’t need to.

  The house was massive. And beautiful. I remember when my mom, my dad, and I moved there from a place in Los Feliz. My dad had successfully merged his record label with another business to form Pierce Media and he could finally enjoy the fruits of his labor.

  As a kid, I loved it. Its cream stucco walls, stacked red tile roof, and secluded courtyards were a dream come true to a young girl who loved to read and daydream. I used to wander through the rose gardens and stone patios with my book, and cool off in the sparkling pool on hot summer days.

  It was a romantic place that reminded me of how much my mom and dad loved each other. Whenever I visited, I was transported back to those pancake breakfasts my dad made against the Spanish-style mosaic backsplash in the kitchen. Or the late evenings, sipping my grape juice while they drank wine and we all played board games under the rustic beamed ceilings.

  I thought it would never end. But then my mom started waking up in the middle of the night with headaches. She started to go to the doctor’s a lot, but there wasn’t much they could do for a glioblastoma. Cancer treatments weren’t effective, even though my dad got her into early stem cell trials. She died within a year and nothing was ever the same.

  My dad sent me to boarding school in Massachusetts. He told me it was because he didn’t want me to grow up in L.A. and my mom would have wanted me to have a first class, distraction free education, but I knew better. Even before I left to finish middle school on the East Coast, he buried himself in his work and I never saw him.

  Then, as I started high school, he started seeing someone else. I was happy for him. He seemed more upbeat on the phone. I remember when we talked on the phone before I flew back after exams at the end freshman year. “No one will ever replace your mother,” he’d said. “Alina really was the shining light of our lives, and maybe she shined too bright for this world. But Madison, Charlene makes me happy and she’s a good, hard working person.”

  It wasn’t long before he married her and Zayden moved in. And it wasn’t long before Sound Play made the childhood tv star a household name—most of all, in our household. When I came back during the summer, it was all about his career. Charlene couldn’t stop talking to my dad about Zayden: this promotion, that tour, on and on…and she did her best to ignore me.

  The house had a very different meaning for me now, and it had been a while since I felt comfortable there. Still, I looked forward to seeing my father. And of course, college was right around the corner—so much to get ready for.

  I stepped out of the car as it came to a stop on the cobblestone circle drive, right in front of the fountain. My dad had it made after my mother passed away. It was statue of an angel of light. My dad had said it was in memory of her, because without her this was just a house and not a home. Needless to say, Charlene never liked the fountain, but it stayed.

  The doors were unlocked, which meant Charlene was home. I wheeled my suitcase along the marble tiled floor of the foyer and attempted to cross to the staircase and get to my room without drawing Charlene’s attention. The rest of my stuff had been shipped from school earlier and I was eager to unpack and get organized. I knew I had all summer, but somehow it felt good to start prepping for college.

  Charlene didn’t even notice I was there. Even if she did, she didn’t say anything or stop what she was doing for a second. I could see through the archway into the kitchen as I hauled my suitcase up the stairs. She was redecorating again. It seemed like she always was, every single time I came home. Maybe she thought that doing it enough times would erase the memory of my mother for good.

  I parked the suitcase outside the open door to my room. I stepped inside and was glad to see the boxes of my school stuff piled neatly in the corner. Then I turned to my bed and wasn’t glad at all.

  What the FUCK!!!

  No way he’s here!

  Unfortunately he was. The bastard was lounging in my bed with his dirty ass jeans, and his leather jacket was thrown carelessly on the floor.

  “Zayden! What the hell are you doing here?!” I screamed.

  He turned his head towards me with that smug look that made me want to smack him. “Actually, Maddy, I go by Zayde now. You should read news. You know. Stay informed.”

  “Yeah, right. That’s news. Some people have better things to do than keep track of name-change announcements from egotists like you.”

  “Um…well, actually Maddy, most people don’t.”

  Wait! What’s he reading? I’d never known Zayden…or Zayde…to read a book.

  “What the hell is that, a book Zayde?” I asked. “Your fans would be so disappointed.”

  He smirked. “No worries, Maddy, it’s a picture book.”

  Wait! What?!

  He was holding the yearbook my dad had brought back after graduation. “Hey, stop that!” I screamed. “You can’t just go through my things and—”

  “One second…” Zayde interjected. “I just want to say a few things.” He opened the book to the portrait photographs section and pointed to a member of my graduating class. “This guy…hilarious…” He started chuckling. “I mean, come on…”

  “Wh
at’s so funny Zayde?”

  “Well, first of all, his name—Reginald…really?”

  “Reggie’s a great guy Zayde. Valedictorian actually.”

  “Yeah, okay. Well, what the fuck is he wearing, like a tuxedo and bowtie for his class picture. He looks like a fucking clown and”—Zayde extended his arm and held the yearbook out over the bed facing me—“what’s this, a love note?”

  “Zayde!” I yelled, “Give that back to me. I swear, I’m—”

  “ ‘To my dearest Madison,’—Oh this is hilarious—‘my destiny has called me to Harvard and yours to Stanford, but we shall always remain the best of friends, yours, Reginald.’ Haha. You can’t make this stuff up!”

  “Zayde, I swear—”

  “Oh Maddy, it’s just like the old days.” Zayde began thumbing through the yearbook. “I think you might be turning red. Mad, mad Maddy…”

  “Alright,” I began, “Zayde, you’ve had your fun. Give it back.”

  Zayde smirked. “So, what, this guy was like your boyfriend?”

  “No, he was just a good friend,” I shot back.

  Zayde shook his head. “Yeah, right. I’m surprised though Maddy…”

  “What?”

  Zayde smiled sarcastically, squinting his eyes. “I’m surprised good old Reggie knows where to put it. Didn’t think those preppy guys had it in them. Plus, don’t you go to an all girls school?”

  “We have mixers stupid.”

  Stupid? Now I sound like I’m in middle school.

  “Wait…what are you saying?”

  “I’m saying I thought you were a virgin Maddy,” Zayde stated matter-of-factly.

  “Yeah, right. I’ve been with guys Zayde, you idiot.”

  Is it really that obvious?

  “Now give back my damn yearbook and get out of here!”

  “Oh!” Zayde shouted, “Look!”—He turned the book toward me again—“It’s you!”

  “Okay, give it back,” I said, rushing towards the bed.

  “Haha…What are you wearing?” Zayde laughed, rolling to the side of the bed with the book, just out of reach.

  I clawed at him, but he dodged my grasp and clutched the book tightly so I couldn’t get it back. “I’m wearing regular clothes, Zayde. Not everyone wears pre-torn jeans and sleeveless hoodies you know…”

  “Seriously, you look like a college professor or something—is that a jacket or a robe?”

  “Zayde, seriously, enough…”

  “I mean, it’s the perfect blend of frumpy and dowdy, if that’s what you’re going for, complete with—oh yes!”—He pointed to the picture again—“Complete with a baggy flower-pattern blouse. Well, if that’s what Reggie’s into…”

  Finally, I managed to grab the yearbook, sprawling stomach down on the bed in the process. “Yeah, well, look at what you’re wearing. Like some kind of…like you’re a post-apocalyptic biker or something…It’s stupid.

  Actually, he looks so fucking hot it’s not fair.

  “Alright then Maddy,” Zayde exhaled, finally getting off my bed. “I think I look great, and so does the rest of the world—just check out my Instagram.”

  “Yeah, alright Zayde. Time to get out of my room.” I motioned towards the door and he shrugged, sauntering out. As his tall frame brushed past me, I couldn’t help but notice the rippling muscles of his arms and shoulders.

  Of course, it’s that easy for him.

  The skinny pop star had turned into a badass overnight. Complete with a set of tattoos on his upper chest and forearms.

  “What’s with the tattoos?” I was curious.

  “Well,” he said, turning with a shrug, “it’s time for a change.” And finally, he was gone.

  Chapter 4

  Zayde

  Fuck! Maddy’s really grown up. She still dresses like shit, but damn…

  I couldn’t believe it.

  Beanpole Maddy? No way.

  She used to be so skinny you could hardly tell where her hips ended and waist began. Especially with the clothes she wore, and that hair—with that thick, dark mess of hair she looked like one of the Ramones from the back, like Joey Ramone in those old posters or something.

  Well, not anymore.

  She’d filled out nicely. It took some acute observation, given the boxy garbage she wore. But damn, her tits had really come through. And her ass…

  That was pretty smart of me. Holding her yearbook out and having her stretching out over the bed to get it back. I loved messing with her—so fun. But I was really able to get a good look that way. And I liked what I saw. Plump and tight. Hard to tell under those—what do they call them? Oh yeah, boyfriend jeans…terrible invention.

  Still, I could see enough, and I was shocked. If someone had told me a few years back that I’d be thinking this way about Madison Pierce, well, I’d say they were blind. It wouldn’t have been a remote possibility. But now, something stirred. When she grabbed that yearbook and fell flat on her stomach, ass raised slightly in the air, I couldn’t help but trace the shape with my eyes and feel that sudden tightness in my pants, which was awkward since I was of course going commando.

  Unbelievable.

  I shook my head.

  Damn.

  It was probably just being back home that was doing this. Or, as close to home as I ever had since I was always moving as a kid and, well, that hasn’t changed. The place was probably messing with my mind, dragging up old memories and confusing me. I mean, come on? So what if she’d gotten a little cuter.

  It’s Madison Pierce, you idiot! Mad Maddy, for crying out loud!

  And I was Zayden fucking Knight. I could have any girl I wanted, when I wanted.

  So why the hell was I even wasting my time thinking about this?

  Snap out of it!

  I didn’t go on worldwide tours and workout like crazy to spend my time thinking about a girl like Madison Pierce.

  The solution is obvious.

  I needed a quick lay. Granted, I’d slept with that tasty blonde less than 2 days ago. But I couldn’t even enjoy it because of her clingy vibes. I needed to get some real fun—no strings, no expectations.

  I had just the girl for the job. I took out my phone.

  Oh fuck, you’ve got to be kidding me!

  What’s her name—the blonde—I forgot I gave her my number! Shit…

  Maybe like 20 texts, even a few voicemails.

  I deleted them. I needed a new phone number immediately. So I called Jonathan, my jerkoff manager.

  “Zayyyde, my man, what’s up?” His voice was as sleazy as the man himself.

  “I need a new phone, new number, everything.”

  “You gotta stop giving out your number Zayde, you know that. But yeah, sure, I’ll have my assistant get it all set-up, and text everyone the new number, all that—let’s say, tomorrow…”

  “Let’s say NOW.”

  “Zayyyde…”

  “Jonathan, listen. I know you’re sitting around jerking off all day waiting for your commission anyway, so get off your ass and make it happen or you can find yourself another cash cow.”

  Fucker.

  “Yeah, sure…”

  “I’ll be waiting at my step-dad’s house.” I immediately hung up. It always brought me a bit of twisted satisfaction to light a fire under Jonathan’s ass. I was never sure what the hell he did for me except collect my checks and take a hefty cut. Moochers.

  Dinner Time. The whole family together. Oh Joy.

  “Zayde, honey, it’s so wonderful to have you back home, isn’t it Duncan.” My mom beamed, turning to my dad, who shrugged and continued slicing the steak.

  “Depends,” he said, “are you going to get it together and get back on tour.” Duncan stared at me intensely, and—I’m not gonna lie—it made me feel nervous, especially since he was holding a giant steak knife.

  “Yeah, yeah, sure…” I said, hesitantly.

  “Good, because your stunt cost Pierce Media a lot of money. Rescheduling a $150 million dol
lar tour is going to hurt, even if we’re lucky no one wants a refund on tickets that go that fast.”

  “Luck has nothing to do with it,” I stated, jokingly.

  Duncan shook his head. “Zayde, you’re really going to have to grow the fuck up.”

  “Honey!” my mom shouted suddenly. “Let’s just be glad we’re all together as a family. Zayde’s been under so much stress. He really is in a fragile emotional state.”

  Duncan raised his eyebrows and looked down at the steak again. “Fragile my ass,” he murmured and finished distributing his grilling into four more or less equal portions. “Listen, wasn’t Gloria supposed to leave the table set before she took the day off—I can’t find a damn thing…”

  “Oh Honey,” my mom exclaimed, “just go sit down and let me take care of everything. I did a little redecorating, which I’m sure you noticed.”

  “Hmmm. Okay, sure.” Duncan sat down, plopping his cold beer on the table without a coaster.

  “Duncan! Really!” My mom made a show of rushing to the rescue with some ostentatious, woven-leather thing.

  And that’s when Madison decided to show up. I saw her step carefully down the stairs in the background. She’d taken a shower and freshened up from her trip, and—as surprising as it was—she’d actually done her hair. That wild mess had been tamed a bit and looked pretty good falling mostly straight, with that little bit on the right side tucked behind her ear…

  Come on Zayde! What the hell am I thinking? I must be bored.

  I grabbed a beer from the fridge and plunked down next to my step-father. He wasn’t all that bad, even if he was pissed at me. I mean, I wouldn’t have transitioned from kid acting crap to big-time touring artist if it weren’t for his company tirelessly promoting me. Maybe he did it mostly for my mom, but I had to be grateful. Not to mention, I liked the fact that he talked to me straight and didn’t beat around the bush. Duncan Pierce was probably the only person I knew that didn’t bullshit me to get something out of me.

  And shit, the guy was pretty cool. I mean, I was happy my mom married Duncan. She deserved a guy like that, after what she went through. He was successful, smart, and managed to nail that tricky balance between boring businessman and sleazeball who tries too hard, which were pretty much the only two types of guys I encountered on the business side of the music industry.