Bossy

by Kim Linwood

  Well, Mom always said to do the right thing. “Excuse me.” I get Joyce’s attention, her gaze hawk like again. “I’m sorry. I know it isn’t much, but you can go ahead of us at least.”

  Joyce’s expression softens again, and she actually cracks a smile. “Thank you, dearie. It’s nice to see that good manners haven’t completely died out. Some days...” She trails off while I get out of the way. I’m glad to see Gavin moving as well, but then he frowns a moment. He throws me a sly glance, as if to say watch this.

  “You know what, ladies? Making you wait like this is unacceptable. Follow me.” And as simply as that, he forces his way through the crowd. “Come on, people. Let the ladies through. What kind of misanthropes are you?”

  Misanthropes? I’m surprised he even knows the word. Still, the crowd parts reluctantly, letting the four of us past, until we’re standing at the desk with the surly concierge glaring up at us. “What’s going on?” The couple he was helping, the man in skinny jeans and a polo jacket, the woman in a designer dress and some awfully big and gaudy jewelry, glare at us, their eyes shooting daggers. They obviously want to object, but Gavin’s a pretty scary guy when he wants to be. They stay to the side and fume quietly.

  He flexes as he leans on the concierge’s desk, looking down with pure disdain. His tattoos shift enticingly, though I’m pretty sure that’s not what the man in front of him thinks. Gavin’s voice is even, calm and full of steel. “I’m not sure what you think customer service is around here, but this sure as hell isn’t it.”

  The concierge sighs dramatically, then explains in a bored voice, as if he’s already had to do this several times today, “Sir, we’re processing the line as quickly as we can. If you’d just go back to your position—”

  “Listen...” Gavin takes a look at his name tag. “Richard. Dick? Can I call you Dick?”

  “I—” The concierge doesn’t get far.

  “Listen, Dick, these two ladies have lived far too long to have to wait for a weasel like you. If you guys don’t have an express lane for seniors, well, then I’m opening one now. Starting with them.” He looms closer for emphasis.

  “Sir, we don’t— I can’t—” Dick is so shocked he can’t make words.

  “You can and you will.” He gestures magnanimously for Joyce and Mabel to step up to the counter, then hangs back just far enough to never leave Dick’s field of vision. Crossing his arms over his powerful chest, he glares until the sour concierge helps them check in.

  Wow. I don’t even know if he’s an ass, a hero, or both. I’m glad the two old ladies don’t have to wait any longer, but holy crap. He obviously doesn’t care, but I can feel the eyes of everyone around us boring angrily into my back.

  Joyce turns to us with a remarkably childish grin. “Thank you so much, young man. You’re a brute, but you used it to our advantage, so we appreciate it.”

  Gavin shrugs. “I do what I must.”

  “You do indeed. You remind me a lot of my fourth husband, actually—” Mabel interrupts her by pulling on her sleeve. “I suppose I’m needed. Thank you again.”

  I give them a little wave and a smile as they walk towards the elevators. Meanwhile, Gavin’s turned back to the counter.

  The concierge tries to take charge again. “Sir, you’re not a senior. Please get back in—”

  “Oh shut up. You want to get rid of us, so here’s your chance. Herbert Caldwell and Marie Wilson. We have a suite.” Gavin talks right over him, but when he hears the names, it’s like the concierge is a whole new person. He lights up, smiling broadly, eager to help. I roll my eyes. What a suck up.

  Gavin receives our key cards and hands one to me which I jam in my pocket. He thanks the concierge for his help, then picks up both of our suitcases and sets off towards the elevators with long strides, giving me nothing to do except follow. I catch up, just in time to hear him mumble something like, “...ass-kissing motherfucker.”

  Maybe not in those words, but for once we agree on something.

  Chapter 7: Angie

  The door opens to our room, and even Gavin whistles. “Nice choice, Dad. It’s the fucking bridal suite.” He steps inside with our suitcases, leaving me in the doorway with my mouth hanging open and my eyes flitting around the room.

  Our cabin’s huge. Two rooms. The bright white walls are covered with floral murals that are so detailed that I half expect to be able to smell them. I can’t keep from running my fingers over everything, like I have to check if it’s real.

  The room has all the typical hotel room things, a sitting area, a minibar, closets and drawers, but everything looks money. Stainless steel and polished wood. Gold trim. The two love seats are so white I’m afraid to sit down and get them dirty. The pink heart shaped pillows are a little hokey, though.

  A gorgeous bouquet of roses stands in a vase on the low glass coffee table, as well as a bucket of champagne and a box of fancy chocolates. I don’t know champagne, but I bet it’s the good stuff. While Gavin carries our suitcases into the bedroom, I sneak one of the chocolates, and it’s amazing. Smooth and delicious, filled with some sort of alcohol that melts in my mouth and warms my stomach.

  Large windows line the opposite wall, framing a door that leads out to a huge balcony. It opens easily, and crisp ocean air fills my lungs as I step out into the night. This close to the city, there aren’t a lot of stars out, but the view from this high up is breathtaking. Not quite as nice as Gavin’s apartment, but close.

  I should check out the bedroom, if only to make sure Gavin isn’t rooting through my underwear or something. I peek my head in, but all I catch him doing is lying on the bed without having taken off his shoes. He looks up when he notices me and smirks. “Going to join me on the bed? Plenty of room, though I do like to spread out. You might have to sleep on top of me. Or under.”

  God, he just won’t quit. I’m not even dignifying that with an answer.

  I kick off my heels. The plush carpet is smooth and soft under my bare feet. Roses and lilies spread in full bloom across the walls, continuing the amazing patterns from the living room. Romantic if, you know, you were actually here for romance. And not stuck here with an idiot stepbrother.

  The only real piece of furniture in the bedroom is the bed, but it’s huge. White satin sheets, mounds of white pillows, a thick white down comforter. Everything is white. A white lacy canopy, attached to the ceiling, hangs around it, tied back with satin ribbons. Old fashioned, but in a modern way. Any bride would be thrilled to be here.

  “Alright, I’m thirsty.” Gavin jumps off the bed, miraculously not leaving any stains on the sheets. Rooting in the bar cabinet, he examines the bottles carefully before choosing one. The liquor is so dark it’s almost brown. He pauses and arches an eyebrow at me. “You want some?”

  “Uh, no. I’ll go with water for now.”

  “Suit yourself.” Opening the fridge next to the bar cabinet, he pulls out a bottle of water and tosses it at me. “Think fast.”

  I catch it. Go me. “Doesn’t that stuff cost a fortune?”

  “What do you think this is, a motel? For what we’re paying I could call that stick-up-his-ass desk jockey up to serve for me.” He grins and screws the cork off the bottle, pouring himself a solid dash in a glass tumbler before recorking it and returning it to the cabinet. “So now what? Christen the bed? Or the couches, maybe? Oh, I know!” He grins over a sip of whisky. “We should do it on the balcony.”

  What? “You do realize that we’re not going to fuck, right? And that you’re sleeping on that couch in the other room.” Boundaries. We need them, ASAP.

  He eyes me skeptically. “It’s a big fucking bed. Plenty of room for us even without me getting between your legs.”

  “Couch.”

  “You’re a cruel bitch, Sis.” He sighs melodramatically. “But I suppose I knew that.”

  My train of thought as I try to come up with a reply is interrupted when the ship’s horn blows loud enough to make me jump. Three long blasts and then t
he floor shifts just slightly under my feet. Outside the windows, the city seems like it’s moving very slowly. I want to go look, but I don’t want to act like a tourist.

  Gavin solves it for me. “This is your first time, right? Let’s watch.” He grabs his tumbler and heads for the balcony.

  I don’t really want be anywhere near him right now, but I do want to see. I might never be on a luxury cruise ship again, so I follow him outside. It’s windy this high up, making me shiver. I should’ve dug my sweater out of my suitcase, but if I take the time to find it now, I’ll miss it.

  Gavin sees me shiver and stands behind me. “I’ll keep you warm, if you want.”

  Rolling my eyes, I bite back over my shoulder, “Don’t touch me.”

  He steps back, raising his hands. “Hey, just offering, Sis. It’s the kinda stuff big brothers do, right?”

  Whatever. I know exactly what kind of brotherly love he has for me, and chivalry has nothing to do with it. Besides, I have a luxury liner departure to watch.

  It’s not quite like in those old movies with the transatlantic ships setting out and the docks packed with cheering people and streamers, but there’re at least a few people down there under the floodlights keeping the dock lit, waving as the ship pulls out. I wave back, though I’ve no idea who they are. They probably can’t see me up here anyway. Gavin throws me an amused glance before looking the other way, towards the open ocean.

  As the ship picks up steam, it’s not long before the only sounds left are seagulls, water streaming by below us and the rumble of engines deep within the ship. It’s beautiful, but watching the shore pull away is a little scary too. There’s no running away now.

  Gavin drops into a deck chair and sets his drink on the table next to it. The sun set a while ago, and the only light is what streams out from our room, so from my angle he’s mostly hidden in darkness.

  “You’re being unusually quiet. I haven’t heard a crude comment in minutes.” I sit in the chair across the table from him.

  “I dunno. Thinking about this marriage shit.”

  “If I’m not letting you fuck me, I’m sure as hell not letting you marry me.”

  He laughs. “We’ll see about that. What about you?”

  “What about me?” I have lots of feelings about the marriage, most of which I don’t intend to share with him.

  “What do you think of this whole marriage thing? Your mom’s getting hitched to a multimillionaire, if not billionaire. I lost track of how much money he makes a long time ago. That’s got to be a little weird for a girl... um... in your situation.” He trails off.

  Ouch, direct hit. “In my situation? And what situation is that exactly?” My eyes shoot daggers at his outline.

  “Well, you know... I mean, I guess you’re not homeless exactly, but now you’re suddenly heading into super rich territory. What do you think you’ll get out of it?” He takes a sip. “College money? Fancy clothes? A car?”

  That is so far beyond insulting, words almost fail me. “Screw you, Gavin. I can work for my own damn things, if that’s what you’re so worried about. I’ve got a free ride to Stanford.”

  “Fuck, should’ve known. You’re smart and sexy. What are you going for?” His question sounds like an inmate’s. What are you in for?

  “Pre-med. I even have a lot of the first year requirements done early.”

  He laughs, a short bark. “No wonder you’re still a fucking virgin.”

  I consider denying it, but what would be the point? I get up, taking my water and heading for the door when he stops me.

  “Wait. I’m just saying, you’d had to have worked real hard for that. Me? I tried business, but dropped out after a few months. I didn’t have time for that shit.”

  I stop in the door, insulted that he thinks education is ‘that shit’, and annoyed that he has enough money for it not to matter. “Am I supposed to be surprised that a thug like you never graduated college? Hell, I’m surprised you graduated high school.” The temperature’s dropping as the ship moves further from land, but nowhere near as fast as it does in the space between the two of us.

  “Loosen up and enjoy it while you can is my advice. It’s not going to fucking last, anyway.” He huffs, looking back out over the water.

  “What’s not going to last?”

  “Their marriage. You think this is the first time?” He drains the last of the whiskey. “This is Dad’s fourth marriage, plus a couple of false starts that didn’t even get that far. He’s a hard man to live with, especially when you’re only marrying him for his money.”

  I’m halfway in, but I storm back out to stand over him. “Are you calling my mom a gold digger?”

  He shrugs. “Just saying, isn’t it awfully convenient? Her business isn’t doing well, right? Are you so goddamn sure?” In the dark, his pupils are black, his eyes rectangular slits under his thick, frowning eyebrows.

  I turn away, my voice quieter. “Mom’s not like that.” Right? She grew up poor, working her way up. Meeting Dad and becoming a Navy wife certainly bought her a lot of security, but she’s always worked hard. But now that her business isn’t doing that well, would she? It all happened so fast.

  “For what it’s worth, I believe you.” His voice is calmer.

  “You do?” I talk to him over my shoulder, not looking.

  “You’re the stubbornest and proudest girl I’ve met in my life, babe. That shit came from somewhere.” His chair scrapes on the deck as he gets up. “I’m getting another drink.”

  “I don’t think stubbornest is a word.” I smile at his praise in spite of myself. Why do I even care about his approval?

  “I don’t give a fuck.”

  For a minute there he almost seemed reasonable. “Alright. Fine. So what are you working for, then?”

  He looks at me curiously. “Working for? I don’t have to. I’ve already got it.”

  “Seriously? There’s nothing you’re burning for? Nothing you want to do?” I give him a disbelieving look. “Just party all the time and be an asshole?”

  “Sure. Why not? What choice do I have? Dad expects me to take over at some point, so I guess I will. Maybe I’ll just sell it all off when he’s gone. Live off the interest.” He shrugs.

  Must be nice to not care about money. “Sounds boring.”

  “Hey, it’s how the other half lives. You’re born. You do what they tell you and have fun while you can until it’s over. Are you hungry?”

  The conversation just got way too deep. My stomach rumbles in response to the talk about food. “Hell yeah.”

  “Alright, I’ll order up some room service.”

  By the time I’m done staring at the water and looking for the horizon in the darkness, the food’s here. They’re quick. There’s so much food you’d think we’re having guests. “How many people is this seafood platter for, anyway?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Eat up. Put some fucking meat on those bones.” He grins while cracking a gigantic lobster claw.

  “What are you trying to say?”

  “That I don’t want you to break when you’re under me.”

  I roll my eyes, but crude come-ons are almost a relief. This Gavin I can deal with, even if the thought of him over me makes me tingle. I’m not letting him know that. I don’t even want to know that. Gavin can dream all he wants, but it’ll never be more than that. There’s still Paul, if nothing else. “Then I’ll eat as little or much as I want, because that’ll never happen.”

  “Maybe not tonight. Maybe not tomorrow night. But some night. And soon.” That cocky smirk again.

  The stupid thing is that I can’t quite keep the smile off my face either. It must be the white wine, or the chocolates, or the sea air. It’s definitely not him. “In your dreams.” I raise my glass to him. “To all expenses paid luxury cruises.”

  He raises his, responding with an eloquent, “Fuck yeah.”

  Chapter 8: Angie

  The rest of the evening, he doesn’t mention sex at all. It’s li
ke aliens stole the Gavin I know and replaced him with a well-behaved clone. I hate to admit it, but he’s actually pretty fun when he’s not in asshole-mode. He might not have been college material, but he’s done a lot of crazy shit and he’s smarter than he acts. Maybe it’s more that college wasn’t Gavin material. Either way, with all the tension between us, it feels weird to actually have a civilized conversation with him.

  “So.” He looks at me across the table, looking as stuffed as I feel. “If you could have anything in the world that you wanted, what would it be?”

  “Anything?”

  “Anything. Absolutely anything. But a thing, not some world peace bullshit or whatever.”

  I mull it over. Cars, jewelry, designer things. All nice, but I know right away it’s none of those. “Old books. I love the smell and feel of them, with the rough cut paper and fancy print. And I’d need a nice bookshelf to keep them in. Maybe one of those fancy libraries that you have in mansions with shelves everywhere and deep leather chairs, know what I mean?”

  He eyes me like I was just offered ice-cream and chose broccoli instead. “Books? Seriously? Who’s your favorite author?”

  I blank. “That’s like asking a mom to pick her favorite kid. I don’t know, there are so many.”

  “Pick one.”

  “Lewis Carroll.” I second guess myself right away when I see the look on his face. Too childish? Heinlein? Steele? Nabokov? I don’t know. It’s not fair to ask me to choose.

  Gavin laughs, a short burst. “Alice in Wonderland? Really?”

  To be honest, I’m surprised he even knows who Lewis Carroll is. “Really? You’re a reader?” I’m pretty sure the disbelief comes through clearly in my voice.

  “You think I showed up on Earth like this? I was a kid once too you know.” He grins. “But I probably just saw the movie.”

  “Oh whatever. What about you?” Before he answers, I hurry to add, “And for you it can’t be something you buy. You can already buy anything you want, so the question’s pointless then.”