Beware of Bad Boy

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Beware of Bad Boy Page 4

by April Brookshire

CHAPTER TWO

  “The reason that the all-American boy prefers beauty

  to brains is that he can see better than he can think.”

  -Farrah Fawcett

  CALEB

  This was the boring life my dad chose over my mom? I couldn’t believe I was going to be stuck here until I graduated high school. After complaining for years about my dad giving up on their marriage, my mom chucked me out the door to go live with him and his new family.

  So maybe I got into trouble every now and then. So maybe I got expelled from another school last May. When did boys will be boys turn into I can’t take it anymore, you’re going to live with your father?

  Three years ago my dad brought this blonde woman to meet me and told me she was going to be my new stepmother. I went home, told my mom and she freaked like her heart was breaking. The thing she was stuck on at the time was that my dad’s new wife was so much younger than her. My future stepmother appeared nice enough, but I loved my mom and I couldn’t stand her pain. I told my dad I refused to ever be a part of his new family. Even though she never said it outright, I know it made my mom feel a little better when I was resistant to having anything to do with my new stepmother and her kids.

  Now, barely three years later, my mom couldn’t seem to pawn me off to that new family fast enough. Being her only child only got me so far. She’d had enough of my antics and was ready to send me to dad to straighten me out. I thought the way our home life worked was just fine. My mom did her thing and I did mine. The problem for her was she didn’t like the things I got up to.

  When I pulled up to a giant two-story house which looked like it belonged on a sitcom, I couldn’t help but compare it to the apartment I shared with my mom. Our apartment was in a trendy Denver neighborhood. This place was definitely a far cry from trendy. The neighbors probably expected quiet and everyone was in bed by ten at night.

  My dad had been mowing the lawn when I pulled up and his wife was gardening in a flowerbed. My artist mother would have called it very Norman Rockwell. I hoped I wasn’t expected to take part in any of it. I especially wasn’t going to be pushing a damn lawnmower around the front yard.

  As soon as I’d parked, my dad turned off the lawnmower and met me as I got out of the car. We grabbed some of my bags from the trunk and I was ushered through the white front door with a fancy gold knocker. My dad happily patted me on the back while Julie, my stepmom, yapped about how excited everyone was to have me there.

  All of a sudden a skinny blonde kid came crashing into my legs. “Caleb is here! He’s going to play PlayStation with me!” The welcoming party sure was confident. When tugging on my hand in the direction of what I guessed was the game console didn’t work, he only pulled harder.

  “Caleb, this is my son, Chance, and he’s obviously excited about your coming to live with us. Chance, honey, Caleb just got here. He needs to get settled in first, so please stop yanking on his hand.” It was weird how she spoke sternly with a smile on her face.

  Maybe my dad went out and married my mom’s opposite. When my mom used that tone you better believe there was a frown to accompany it. My mom was the moody artistic type, more likely to tie a scarf around her waist than her neck. This lady dressed different too, very preppy in her polo shirt. “Caleb, come sit over on the couch so we can all get to know each other.”

  I followed them into a living room, feeling awkward. Jesus Christ, could a person fit more floral printed furniture and paintings into one room? I spied what seemed to be some sort of shrine on the other side of the room. A long table against the wall was covered in pictures of a blonde girl at different ages. Different outfits, too. Some looked cheerleading related and some had her in ballet getups. The pictures were far from where I sat, but she looked sort of pretty. I didn’t remember how old the daughter was, high school age at least, but she looked good enough to bang if she weren’t my dad’s stepdaughter. That definitely put her on the Do Not Bang list.

  Julie and Scott followed my gaze and, believe it or not, Julie got even more excited. “Oh, Caleb, that’s my daughter, Gianna. Chance, go get your sister. She should be here to welcome Caleb.” Interesting that her name was Gianna, an Italian name when I doubted she had an ounce of Italian blood in her. My mom was Italian-American and she didn’t even have an Italian name.

  “I can’t go get her mom ‘cause she left right when Caleb got here. I told her he’s here, then she ran upstairs, then she ran downstairs, went to the garage and left,” Chance explained in a rush.

  “Oh well . . . she must’ve been late to meet a friend, but you’ll get a chance to meet her later, Caleb. I know, I’ll show you to your room now.” Julie’s cheeks were pink as she excused her daughter’s absence. Perhaps my new stepsister wasn’t so happy about me being here.

  Three hours later I was contemplating living in my car. I needed to escape. If I had to put up with any more of this family time crap I was gonna choke someone. That someone may just be my new stepmother. After I was shown my new room, painted baby blue with sailboat border on the wall, Julie insisted on getting to know me more. This consisted of two hours of Julie asking me questions, my dad staring at her like he loved her curiosity and Chance yanking on my sleeve to get my attention. Julie was hot and all for a lady in her thirties, but I didn’t know what my dad saw in her beyond that. If her daughter was anything like her, I’d be walking around the house with a roll of duct tape for her mouth.

  Finally a reprieve when my dad asked to speak with me privately in his study. A study for fucks sake! It was even decorated like the study cliché with manly plaids and dark woods. I sat across from him and picked up a Mallard duck statue with a question in my eyes.

  He shrugged with a smirk on his face. “I let Julie do the decorating.”

  Setting the duck back down, I laughed. “You should hire a professional to redecorate.”

  “Nah, it doesn’t bother me.”

  “The sailboats in my room have to go.”

  “Whatever makes you more at home, Caleb. I’m sure Julie won’t mind. We really want you to be comfortable living here.”

  “Thanks, dad.”

  He cleared his throat and sat forward. “I wanted to talk to you alone about why your mom wanted you here.”

  I gave him a skeptical look. “You mean, why she didn’t want me there anymore?”

  “Don’t be a brat, Caleb. You know your mother loves you. She just thought the lifestyle down there wasn’t benefitting you.”

  Actually, I liked my life a whole lot. My life was awesome in Denver. “Of course she loves me,” I agreed. “She just thinks I’m a pain in the ass.”

  “You have been in the past,” my dad said. “But let’s leave the past where it belongs and why don’t you look at this as a fresh start? I’m here if you need to talk or if you feel like you’re slipping into bad habits again.”

  I wouldn’t refer to them as bad habits. More like me being me and other people having a problem with it. Maybe if I promised to be a good little boy, my mom would let me come home? I so didn’t want to be here, living in the suburbs, going to another new school and missing my friends. Too bad my mom knew me so well. She wouldn’t believe for a minute I’d already changed my ways.

  “Will do, dad,” I stated halfheartedly. Life was about to get very boring.

  Julie yelled that dinner was ready and we headed towards the dining room to have what she described as “our first family dinner.” Oh joy. At least the food smelled damn good. My mom didn’t cook much and when she did it was out of the box, so I’d finally found a plus about moving in. The spread on the table was mouthwatering and definitely home-cooked. If all family dinners were like this, I’d have to start working out more.

  Right as we were digging in, a door slammed shut nearby. Julie smiled one of her exuberant smiles. “Gianna, honey, we’re in the dining room!” Ten seconds later, in walks one of the most smokin’ hot pieces I’d ever seen.

 

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