Dirty Stepbrother - A Firefighter Romance (The Maxwell Family)

by Alycia Taylor

  We lay there for a while, wrapped up in each other’s arms and legs and feeling each other’s hearts beating. When his breathing had settled down, Tristan said, “I need you here tomorrow. We need to practice our duet…all day.”

  I propped my head up on my elbow and looked at his face. “I have classes…”

  “Aw, come on, Elly. We need to practice. We’ll never be able to harmonize and get it right if we don’t.”

  I wanted him to win. I wanted it so badly that I was putting my own career on the line for it. I decided I could miss one day of classes.

  “Okay,” I told him. “I’ll be here.”

  Chapter Nine

  Tristan

  I slept like a rock that night after Elly left. It was the best night’s sleep I’d had since I’d been sober. Fucking her was like a drug and I think I was addicted to it. I woke up the next morning feeling rested and eager to get on with practicing our song. I was looking forward to singing with her.

  I showered and had time to stop in the cafeteria for some breakfast before I had therapy. I wasn’t sure how my therapist was going to feel about me after what had happened the day before. I had no idea what my parents told him after I left, but I had a pretty good idea that they had twisted it all around so that I was the one at fault for everything. When I walked in, he looked up at me and smiled.

  “How are you today, Tristan?”

  I shrugged. “I’m okay,” I said.

  “I was afraid you’d be having a hard time after the group session. That was pretty intense.”

  I dropped down into the chair across from him and said, “Any time spent with my parents is intense. Now maybe you at least understand why I didn’t want them here.”

  He was nodding and then he said, “Yes, of course. But sometimes what we want isn’t always what we need. I think a lot of your troubles are tied up in how you feel about your parents and how that all made you feel about yourself.”

  “I’m fine with myself,” I told him.

  He raised an eyebrow and said, “Are you really, Tristan?”

  “Yeah, really,” I told him.

  He leaned towards me. “I believe that you believe that, but what I see when I look at you and hear when I talk to you are a lot of insecurities and unresolved issues.”

  I couldn’t stop my eyes from rolling. “Wow, you can see and hear all that? You must be psychic.”

  He knew I was being sarcastic. He smiled and said, “No, just observant.” The rest of the visit went on like that. He was trying to “strip off” my defenses, he said. He was starting to get to me, I had to admit. Either that or I was just so bored in that place that even talking to him was preferable to another hour of staring at the wall in my room. I wished Elly could have stayed there with me—I’d never have left. My cock jerked in my pants just at the thought. I replaced Elly’s naked image with the image of my father. That did it—instant cock-block.

  When the therapist was finally finished with me, I said, “Elly is coming by today to practice the song we’ll be singing together this week. Can she bring my guitar in?”

  He sat back in his chair and gave me a long look. Then he said, “I grant you quite a few favors, Tristan. When am I going to get something in return?”

  “What is it you want, doc?”

  “I want you to talk to me, honestly for once.” Shit! I didn’t know if the guitar was worth all that, but I finally agreed that if he let Elly bring my guitar in I would open up to him about something in my past at our next session.

  I used my phone call again to call Elly and ask her to bring the guitar. She’d taken it that day that I’d thrown it. She said it didn’t look damaged, which was good since I couldn’t afford a new one.

  Elly got there around ten that morning, my guitar in hand. We used one of the empty dayrooms to practice. The lead nurse told me the walls were thick, so our music wouldn’t bother anyone. The door also locked from the inside so no one would bother us. There were windows that faced out to the nurses station, so that meant I wasn’t getting laid. At least the memories of our last fuck would last me a day or two.

  “Aren’t you just a little bit nervous about this?” she asked me once we were behind closed doors.

  “Not at all. If we blow it away and I win, the producers won’t be able to do shit.”

  “I wasn’t talking about that. Of course, I am nervous about that too; but I was talking about me singing. You’ve never even heard me sing. What if I open my mouth and something terrible comes out?”

  “Is it going to?” I asked.

  She clasped her hands together. “I hope not.”

  “Can you sing?”

  “Yeah….”

  “Okay then, here’s your music.” She looked down at it, and I watched her face while she read the lyrics. I could see her mouth moving already. She’d do fine. This I knew because the day I dropped her off for chorus I actually followed her in and listened. If Elly had been my competition on Fresh Voices show, I’d have lost, easily. I was a little bit too arrogant to admit that to her, though.

  Chapter Ten

  Elly

  I can’t remember ever being so nervous in my life. I was shaking so hard I was afraid if I tried to sing my voice would come out sounding like an eighty year old woman. Tristan and I had gone over and over it. It was fun practicing with him, and although he didn’t say it, I got the impression that he was happy with my voice. We were singing a duet that Chris Brown and Jordin Sparks had made famous: No Air. It was a love song. Tristan had, of course, changed the music so the tempo was more rock and less pop. I liked it though. He was genius when music was involved.

  “Hey, Elly!” I jumped about six feet off the ground.

  “Geez, Molly! You have to stop sneaking up on me like that.”

  She laughed and said, “You should stop being so nervous all the time. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” I lied.

  “You look really pretty tonight,” she told me. I was wearing one of the dresses that I always wore for the live shows, but I’d taken extra care with my hair and make-up. Singing in front of millions of people was bad enough; I didn’t want to worry about what I looked like, too.

  “Thanks,” I told her.

  She got closer and in a whisper she said, “Have you talked to Tristan?”

  Keith was not far away, so I only nodded. Again, Molly whispered, “Do you know who he’s singing with? The drummer from the band said it’s a chick.”

  “You’re gossiping with the drummer now?” I asked her, my eyebrow rose.

  She giggled and said, “No, just talking during lunch hour. You ditched me yesterday.”

  “I’m sorry. Clint said you guys didn’t really need me.” Molly stopped me; she could tell that I really felt bad.

  “No worries. Work was fine; I just missed you at lunch. I was forced to gossip with the drummer.”

  I laughed, “So sorry you had to endure that,” I told her.

  “Don’t let it happen again!”

  “Since we only have two weeks left, unless I get fired, I can commit to be here all two weeks.”

  “Unless you get fired?” she said, with a distressed look.

  “Figure of speech,” I told her. “We better start setting up.”

  The first two contestants were there early, before Tristan, of course. He always slipped in at the last minute, but that night I was glad. I knew everyone was curious who he was singing with and the longer it took him to get there, the less chance they had to ask him. The contestants had been given special passes for their co-singers who would sit in the front row of the audience until it was their turn. There would likely be a lot of speculation when the cameras panned across them, revealing one empty seat.

  I tried to shake all of those thoughts off because they were making my anxiety even worse. I helped Molly finish getting everything ready and then I stood at the stage entrance and watched the first duet. It was Ethan and he had brought his girlfriend. They sang a love song
from the eighties, from Dirty Dancing or something. It was sweet and they did a good job harmonizing….but it sounded like a boyfriend and girlfriend singing to each other. There was no real ‘wow’ factor to it, and the judges told them so.

  Rosa went next. I was trying to get my breathing under control. The closer to time it came for me to go out there, the more nervous I got. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, so I was gulping in big mouthfuls of it. I knew that wouldn’t do while I was on stage. I needed to get it under control; I needed to blow them away. If I was going to lose my job, I wanted to go down fighting.

  Tristan arrived during Ethan’s song. He was sitting alone in the back. He hadn’t made eye contact with me at all. I wondered if he was as nervous as I was.

  Rosa sang with her brother and they did a fast, upbeat song. Again, it was sweet, but I wasn’t blown away by it. When I heard Molly tell Tristan that he was up, I casually took off my nametag and sat it down on the snack table. Tristan came over and took my hand and I walked out with him. When we got to center stage, I could see Molly’s shocked face looking at me. I could only imagine what my parents were thinking as they were sitting in their living room.

  The judges hadn’t had any more than a passing contact with me, so they had no idea who I was. The host looked at me a little strangely. I’m sure he at least thought I looked familiar. Tristan introduced me as a friend and just gave them my last name. I was thankful for the bright lights; they kept me from really being able to see the audience that was looking at me. I was going to have to completely forget about the cameras; every time I thought about them zooming in on my face, my insides would quiver and I would feel like I wanted to throw up.

  “You ready?” Tristan whispered in my ear. I nodded. He handed me my ear piece and I put it in. Then we both took a seat on the tall stools that sat facing the microphones; we were seated facing each other. Tristan strummed his guitar and then nodded at the musicians. I wondered if it was too late to back out now.

  I kept my eyes on Tristan’s face and when the note was right, I opened my mouth and the words just came out. They came out clear and in tone and I surprised even myself as I sang.

  If I should die before I wake. It's cause you took my breath away. Losing you is like living in a world with no air, oh . . .

  Tristan looked happy and when he opened his mouth for his part, his lyrics came out beautifully as well.

  I'm here alone, didn't wanna leave. My heart won't move, it's incomplete. Wish there was a way that I can make you understand.

  After the initial lyrics, I forgot that I was on stage in front of millions of people. It was like it was only Tristan and me again, back in that group room at rehab. I forgot about the producers, the judges, and the host. I forgot about the rest of the world.

  When we got to the end of the song and we were singing the chorus together I got the strangest feeling. It was a vibe from Tristan—one that I’d never felt before. The only way it could be described was passion. He was looking at me with real passion in his eyes. It was different that the lust he usually gazed at me with…and I liked it.

  As the music ended, I started to turn towards the judges, but Tristan stopped me…with his lips. He kissed me in front of the judges, the producers, my parents…and eight or ten million other people. It was a soft, sweet kiss, and in my head, we were suddenly in a vacuum. It was void of all the other people and all the troubles. It was just me and him and the song we’d just sung.

  When he stepped back, my whole body was tingling and there was a white-hot flame burning in the pit of my stomach. I wondered what the producers thought; then I realized that the best part was I really didn’t care. I wished that he would do it again. His kisses had been filled with lust up until then with sex being the end game for him. I hadn’t fooled myself that it was anything other than that….until that moment. That one felt real.

  The judges were on their feet, applauding us. When the noise settled down, Diva said, “She’s amazing, Tristan! Where have you been hiding her? I want to see more of you, sweetie. The two of you sing together like angels. I loved it. That was the best of the night for me.”

  The country singer simply said, “Best of the night for me, too.”

  The producer looked at Tristan first and said, “If you learn how to manage yourself, you’re going to go far. Take this girl with you.” I saw Tristan smile as we gave the audience a little bow and ran off the stage. Molly had her eyes on the television set. She turned when she saw me but I went around behind Tristan and out the door. I felt bad, but I still couldn’t talk to her about it.

  I went into the employee room to get my things, and I probably should have still been worrying about what the producers were going to do, but I just couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss. I decided that I needed to talk to Tristan about it before I let myself make it more than it was. I grabbed my purse and sweater and I went back out to find him.

  He was already gone.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tristan

  After the show I went straight back to the rehab. It was part of the deal that I’d made with them; no lags in between. They made me pee in a cup every time I came back, anyways, just to make sure. It wasn’t a big deal since I was starting to feel better. Every little thing didn’t annoy me like it had the first several days I was getting the shit out of my system. What was bothering me that night, was that kiss.

  Our duet had been fucking awesome. Elly was an amazing singer and our voices sounded great together. I’d gotten so caught up in that, and the lyrics…fuck, the truth was I kissed her because I wanted to and I actually felt it that time. She was in my head and making me feel all kinds of things that I didn’t want to feel. I didn’t need anyone, and I didn’t want to need anyone emotionally. I was pissed off at myself for letting her get to me.

  I knew she was different since that first night—it was what had drawn me to her in the first place. I wanted her to feel the things I was doing to her. I wanted to see and feel her response, but I didn’t want to let her in my head…and that’s right where she was. It was as if I’d traded in my addiction for a different kind and that just pissed me off.

  I couldn’t sit still in my little room so I got up and paced the halls. They had the television on in the dayroom and there was a clip of Elly and I playing as I walked by. I stopped and watched it; we looked damn good together and we sounded even better.

  There was some tweaker chick sitting on the couch and when she looked up and saw me she said, “Shit! That’s you!” I started to walk away and I heard her say, “Is she your girlfriend?”

  I looked back up at the screen…at Elly’s face. My girlfriend? Fuck no! I didn’t do girlfriends. I just walked away and ignored her. It was none of her business either way. I went out onto the patio. The night was cool as the weather was starting to change. I wondered what I would do about my apartment if I didn’t win…or if I got disqualified for singing with Elly.

  Damn it! I wished I could make my mind still. I knew that I could. I wasn’t a prisoner there. I could sign myself out and go score some weed. That would calm me down. Of course, they probably wouldn’t let me back in if I just left, and if they did, they’d make me piss in a cup and kick me out anyways.

  Shit! I hated it. I wanted to call Elly, but it was too late to use the phone. I hated where I’d put myself and I hated that I had no idea where I was going from there. I guessed that was the kind of shit my therapist wanted me to talk about. I didn’t see the point, though; I could talk about it until I was blue in the face—wouldn’t change a fucking thing. I was the only one who could change anything. Thinking I only had myself to depend on, was a depressing thought. I’d done a fucking bang up job so far.

  I finally went back to my room. It took hours for me to fall asleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about how bad I wanted something…anything. It wasn’t a physical craving any more. It was mental. I wanted to feel numb again; feeling shit was for the birds.

  I got woke up the next d
ay by a loud knock on my door. It was the nurse with my pills. They gave me something that took away the cravings for the opiates. They had something new; they didn’t use methadone like they used to. I used to like the methadone—if I’d cheek it and then take it all at once later on, it was almost as good as a speed-ball. Probably why they stopped using it—they figured that out. The shit they gave me was called Suboxone. It worked, my body wasn’t feeling that physical need for the drugs…but it didn’t make me high, or numb.

  After I took my pills and had breakfast, I went to my appointment with my therapist. I had almost convinced myself that I was going to open up to him that day. But, I knew that was just going to make my anxiety worse. We talked about the show the previous night and he tried to talk about my parents again. Finally, after about fifteen minutes of that, I told him I wasn’t feeling good and that I’d been thinking about leaving and going to use all night.

  “So, are you going to be okay tonight, when you leave for the show?” He looked concerned.

  “I doubt it,” I told him, honestly. “I really don’t want to start this shit all over again, but given the opportunity today; I think I’d take it.”

  “So what should we do?” he asked me.

  “I think I should skip the show tonight. If I leave here, I’m going to find something, and I’m probably not going to care what it as.”

  He nodded and said, “I’ll call them and let them know you’re not going to make it tonight. I’m proud of you for coming to me with this, Tristan; it shows real progress.”

  I walked away from that meeting wanting to be as apathetic about it as I was everything else. The hard truth was that it had been so long since anyone had been proud of me for anything, I let it make me feel good that he said it….just a little bit.

  Chapter Twelve

  Elly

  The first thing I realized when I got out of bed was that I no longer had to look at the stupid picture of my dead boyfriend. I’d taken it and put it in the drawer the night before when I got home, and I had no desire to look at it again. One thing that I’d learned since being with Tristan is that anyone can get off drugs if they want it badly enough.