I pushed Brielle out of my mind and threw together spaghetti and garlic bread. We had that almost every night. Not that Dad ever complained. I didn’t know how to make much else and it was cheap and filling. I pulled the garlic bread out of the oven when he walked in the door.
“Hey, Carter,” he smiled tiredly. “Spaghetti again?”
“Yeah,” I shrugged. “Hope that’s okay.”
“It’s great, kid. I really appreciate you stepping up since…you know…” His hazel eyes, so like my own, grew misty and he looked away quickly. “Yeah, that.”
“We’ll be okay, we don’t need her,” I insisted. My teenage bravado refused to let me feel like I’d been abandoned by the woman who gave birth to me.
“A boy needs a mother. You shouldn’t be doing all this stuff, Carter.”
“It’s no big deal, Dad. We’ll take care of each other. Screw women.” I sat down sullenly in my chair and Dad settled in across from me.
“Ouch, listen to that jaded tone from my son. Screw women. Damn. Have you got woman trouble, kiddo?” He dug into the spaghetti.
“Me? No. I just see women for what they are. They use you and then leave.”
“Not all women are bad, son.”
“Mom is.”
Dad paused and placed his fork down beside his plate. “Your mom…isn’t a bad person, Carter. She just wanted something different than I could give her. We got married young, we had you right out of high school, and she just realized that she never got to live. It’s the reality of our lives sometimes, we wake up and find that life has passed us by and we want to live what we didn’t get to have. That’s all.”
“She’s a bitch. She left us.” My anger had simmered long enough below the surface and I lashed out.
“Don’t say that about your mom,” Dad warned me.
“She is. All women are bitches.”
He paled and swallowed the mouthful of food. “Carter, son, are you trying to tell me something?”
“What?”
“Are you gay, son?”
“I’m not fucking gay!” I yelled, jumping up from my chair. It clattered to the floor behind me and I stormed off. “I’m just saying women are bitches!” I hollered again as I ran upstairs.
He seriously thought I was gay. Was it because I didn’t have a girlfriend yet? No girls were interested in me. I meandered into the bathroom to stare at my reflection. My hair was light brown, a little shaggy, and I had warm hazel eyes. I was slim with no muscles, and my skin was only a little pimply, not bad like Kirby’s.
He had said something about bulking up over the summer. I flexed my arms and grimaced at the lack of muscle there. Maybe he was right. We could start freshman year as hot nerds…then I could get a girlfriend.
Chapter Three
The night of the eighth grade dance was one of the most depressing of my life. Kirby had a date. I didn’t. To be fair, I hadn't asked anyone. I wanted Brielle, and I couldn’t have her. She was there with her senior boyfriend. He was eighteen and looked bored to be at a kids’ dance.
Brielle was in full-on ghetto-fabulous attire. She wore a flannel shirt tied around her waist, and a pale blue dress that was shredded, with glitter on the bodice that fell off every time she moved. She moved…a lot. Her body whirled and writhed up against her jock boyfriend, and he rocked his hips into her ass every time he could.
He looked to score. Brielle was willing. I stewed as I leaned against the wall, nursing a cup of punch. It was spiked, and I didn’t like the taste of it. Brielle was on her third cup. Her cheeks were flushed and she turned to loop her arms around her meathead boyfriend’s neck. She kissed him, deeply, pulling him down to her. His hand found her ass and he squeezed.
A teacher broke them apart and I was grateful. Not long after a slow song came on though, they were back at it. This time when a teacher broke them apart, he took her hand and pulled her out to the parking lot.
Some stupid part of me wanted to save her…from herself. I put my cup of punch down on the pink tulle covered table and hustled outside. The night was muggy and warm and sweat dripped down the back of my neck. I looked around the parking lot, trying to find Brielle so I could ride in on my white horse and rescue her.
I heard a noise, a soft, guttural moan to my left, and I hurried toward the noise. The moans grew louder as I walked behind the school. What I found there made me sick to my stomach. Brielle was pushed against the wall, her boyfriend pressed against her body. They were kissing. It looked like soon, it would be something else going on, too.
It was my worst nightmare come to life. She looked up at me and a sloppy smile crossed her lips. “We have an audience,” she purred, and her boyfriend looked over his shoulder at me.
“Do you like to watch, kid?”
“He’s wanted me since we were little,” Brielle explained, giggling as he turned back to kiss her neck.
“You’re never gonna have this sweet ass.” He laughed and Brielle joined him, pulling his face back to hers for another kiss.
I felt sick. I backed away, my chest aching. I hated her. I hated him. I hated that I wanted to save her. She didn’t want to be saved.
“Slut!” I yelled before I turned to run away.
Her laughter echoed through the parking lot and it haunted me the whole way home. I ran hard, sweat mingling with the tears running down my face. Kirby was right. She was nothing but a slut.
I burst through the door of my little house and walked into a scene that made my already nightmarish night worse. My father macked on the couch, with none other than the mother of the girl of my dreams. He was shirtless, and so was she. Her skirt was high around her waist, and his pants sagged below his ass cheeks. They froze. So did I. I wanted to scream and run away but I was rooted in place. It was like seeing Brielle all over again.
Finally I turned away and I could hear them straightening themselves. My father’s hand touched my shoulder. “Son, what are you doing home so early?”
“I had to get out of there,” I managed.
“I’m sorry you had to find out this way. But Lisa and I have been dating for a couple of weeks.”
“He looks pale, make him sit down, Charlie,” Lisa worried. He pushed me down onto the couch beside Brielle’s mother, who rapidly buttoned up her top. “Carter, honey, talk to us, are you okay?”
I nodded woodenly, unable to form words that would've been coherent. My father had sex with Brielle’s mother. They were dating. That was so many shades of wrong. So messed up I couldn’t even comprehend what had happened.
“How?” I finally choked out.
“How did we get together?” Lisa asked gently, and I nodded again. “Well, my car was running poorly and I took it to your dad’s shop. One thing led to another and well, here we are. Can I just ask you not to tell Brielle yet? I don’t think she’ll take it well. She’s been a little off track since her father left us.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem. We don’t exactly talk,” I explained.
“Why not? You two were inseparable at one point. I knew if I would see Brielle, Carter would be right there beside her. You two were so cute!”
“You as well as anyone should realize that people change, Mrs. Harper. Feelings change.” I knew my words were harsh, and her face fell. Tears filled her blue eyes, so like Brielle’s, and I took some sort of perverse pleasure in hurting her mother when I couldn’t hurt Brielle in the same manner.
“Carter, apologize!” my father roared, and I shook my head.
“No, I won’t. I won’t apologize for the truth.”
“Get upstairs then. I won’t stand for you hurting her feelings.”
“So it’s serious? Well, be prepared, Dad, her daughter’s nothing but a slut, and you know what they say, like mother, like daughter.” With that, I jumped off the couch and tore upstairs like hell’s demons were nipping at my heels. My father yelled at me to come back, but I ignored him, darting into my room and locking my door instead.
I threw
myself across the bed and beat the mattress with my fists. How could my father get mixed up with Brielle’s mother? Didn’t he know I loved her? We would be stepbrother and stepsister if they got married. I couldn’t very well love my stepsister, could I?
I squeezed my eyes shut and my breath came fast. I saw Brielle pushed against the wall again, but this time it was with me. Her eyes were half-closed in desire for me. She moaned my name. “Carter,” she breathed again, her mouth on my ear.
Rolling over again onto my pillow, I squeezed it tight and pretended instead I was making out with her. It didn't help. Groaning, I released the pillow and slid off the bed. I pulled off my nice clothes and tossed them to the floor. I was coated with sweat after my run, and I needed a shower.
After I cleaned myself up, I stared at my reflection. I looked pathetic. I was clammy, my hair was plastered to my forehead and I was lovesick. Brielle would never love me, not the way I loved her. Pushing away from the sink I moved back into my bedroom and found my father standing in the middle of my floor.
“What the hell! Haven’t you heard of privacy?” I railed, my anger getting the better of me.
“Kid, I own this house. There’s no privacy until you move out. We need to have a talk.” He crossed his thick arms across his chest and glared at me.
“I have nothing to say. So you’re fucking Mrs. Harper, whatever. If you want to slum, then by all means.” He hit me with the back of his hand and I fell back on my bed. “You hit me!” I daubed at my lip, which was already bleeding. “You fucking hit me!”
“Carter, you had it coming, God dammit. You have no right to talk about Lisa like that. She’s a nice woman, she just got shafted in her divorce.”
“Looks to me like she got shafted tonight,” I snapped.
“Watch your mouth.”
“Why? Are you like, in love with her?” I demanded, sitting up and wiping my mouth again. Blood smeared across the back of my hand but I didn’t care.
“I might be.”
“Great. Just freakin’ great.”
“You used to be best friends with Brielle. You two could be again,” he offered, his tone softened, and he tempted me with the biggest piece of candy in the world.
The thing was, I wanted more than just to be with her every single day. I wanted her to be mine. I wanted to kiss her. To hold her. To make love to her one day. And she didn’t want that with me. “That’s not gonna happen,” I said both to myself and him.
“Why? What changed?”
“She grew up, got breasts, and forgot I existed.”
“Ahh, I see what’s going on,” Dad smirked. “You like her.”
“No shit, Sherlock, it took you that long to figure it out.”
“She’s going for older men, right?”
“Yeah.” I sulked, my shoulders dropping down in disgust.
“Girls go through that phase. Nice guys finish first, Carter, don’t forget that. Brielle isn’t the right girl for you. You’re young. You’ll find a nice girl.” He stepped closer and squeezed my shoulder. “I’m sorry about the lip. I just let my temper get the best of me,” he offered.
“Yeah, it’s okay, Dad,” I told him, trying to smile.
“If Lisa and I get married, you won’t have to worry about Brielle anymore anyway. She’ll be your sister. Then you two can be friends again.”
“Sure,” I whispered. My father left me then, and his words rang through my brain. She’d be my sister. My sister. My sister. Which meant it was wrong, wrong, wrong to want her.
Dad basically told me to prepare. Things were about to get serious with Lisa, and I needed to nip any fantasies of me and Brielle in the bud. I tried. God help me, I tried.
I failed.
Chapter Four
By the end of summer, Lisa and Brielle had moved in with me and Dad. I was miserable. I hated every second of it. Brielle seemed to delight in wearing next to nothing through the house, as if she knew it drove me slowly insane. Every day she put on a tiny black bikini and slathered herself in baby oil so she could go outside and tan. She would set up her chair directly in front of my window.
Granted, that was the area that got the best sun, but it also gave me a view every day that made me want to explode. That day was no different, and I wanted to die at the sight of her slicked up body getting comfortable on the chair. Sunlight glistened off her skin and she turned to her belly. Her fingers caught the strings on her suit and she undid them.
I swallowed nervously, angling my fan so I could cool off. Her back looked dry. She needed baby oil on her skin. I walked downstairs to assist her. I wanted to touch her. I needed to touch her.
Stepping out into the hot summer afternoon, I winced at the bright sunlight. Both of our parents were gone for the day. My dad was at the shop, and her mom was at the grocery store, where she worked part time. We were alone.
“Brielle?” I called softly, not wanting to frighten her.
She turned her head to look at me and a slow smile crossed her lips. “I wondered when you’d be out here.”
“What?”
“I know you watch me.”
“Me? Watch you? You’re crazy,” I scoffed.
“Hey, while you’re down here, brother, do you think you could rub some oil on my back? I’m not getting a good tan.” She held up the bottle of oil and I forgot how to breathe.
“Sure,” I choked out, taking the oil from her. Unscrewing the cap, I dribbled hot oil into my hand and placed the bottle down on the grass by her chair. I rubbed my hands together and squeezed my eyes shut as I placed my palms on her skin.
Electricity sizzled from the contact and I bit my bottom lip, hard. Brielle sighed softly. “Rub harder,” she breathed, and I could barely focus. My pulse thundered loudly in my ears, so loud I was sure she could hear it. I kneaded her flesh, slowly working from her delicate, sun-warmed shoulders down to the curve of her back just before her butt.
“I know you're in love with me, Carter.” she said suddenly, and I froze, withdrawing my hands.
“I am not.”
“I'm gonna be your sister...” she giggled.
“You’re not my sister!”
“When our parents get married, I will be. I knew you had it bad for me, Carter, I just didn’t realize you were this pathetic.”
“Fuck you!” I yelled and she grinned.
“You’d love to. But sadly, you’ll never get to.” She waved me away like I was an annoying fly. “You can go.”
I ducked inside the house and ran to my bathroom where I scrubbed my hands clean. I felt dirty. She had toyed with me and I was powerless to stop it. Brielle had all the control and she knew it. She was a temptress and I was ensnared by her spell.
I walked back into my bedroom, and I groaned in annoyance. Brielle leaned against my door jamb. She smelled like baby oil and sucked on an orange lollipop.
“Wow, nice room,” she giggled.
“Get out of my room.”
“Isn’t this where you want me?” she pouted, then walked further in and draped herself across my bed. “I hear you at night, you know. Do you always think about me when you...?” I was silent, and she giggled again. “You do, don’t you. Oh, poor Carter. A nice boy like you shouldn’t want a bad girl like me. I am a bad girl, you know. I could show you things that would blow your little...mind.” She smirked.
“Get out.”
“Carter, you need to get over me. I’ll never want you. Ever. In a million years. You’re a geek. I prefer older, more sophisticated men.” She crossed her legs and reclined on my bed.
“Right, like your charming boyfriend who did God knows what to you against a wall.”
“It was fun. But we’re over.”
“Whatever. Get out.”
“I’m going to be someone, someday, Carter, and you better be nice to me.”
“You’re never nice to me!”
She pouted and then smiled. “I know. But you still love me. Don’t you?”
“You’re a bitch.”<
br />
“I am. But I’m beautiful and sexy. You have loved me for years. It’s kinda cute how you actually think something will happen. If only you were older, and someone else…” with a heavy sigh, she sat up and shrugged. “But you’re not. You’re Carter Travis. I’m Brielle Harper, and I’m totally out of your league.”
“Just leave me alone,” I growled.
“I can’t. That would ruin all of my fun.” She hopped off my bed and darted toward me, lightning quick on the balls of her feet. Her hands came to my hips and she pressed an open mouthed kiss on my neck. With that, she was gone.
Kicking my door closed, I locked it and quickly dressed in clean clothes. I had to get out of the house. I decided to join my old man down at the garage. He’d hinted several times at me working for him, but I’d put him off. I wanted to enjoy my summer. But I wasn’t enjoying my summer. Kirby was up his girlfriend Mindy’s ass, and I was stuck in the house with the hellcat known as Brielle.
Hurrying down the stairs, I pulled on my shoes and grabbed my skateboard. I took off down the sidewalk and rode the short distance to Dad’s shop. He spotted me as I rolled into the parking lot and he waved.
“Hey, Carter, what’s up?”
“Is that job offer still available?” I asked.
“Sure. Always for my boy.”
“Then I want to take it.”
“What made you change your mind?”
“I needed to get out of the house.”
“Ah, I see,” he said simply. “Well, come on. Let’s get you some clothes to wear and put you to work.”
We worked together the rest of the summer before school started. I found that I loved the grease of cars and the camaraderie of the garage. Cars were easy to understand. You diagnosed the problem then put the right parts on and it worked. Cars were easier than my life.
Dad and I worked on a 1969 Chevy Camaro together. It was an old beater, but we fixed it up for a customer. The Friday before school started, we finished up the job. Dad closed the hood and ran his hand across the faded red paint.
Evil Stepsister Page 2
