PAYBACK’S A BITCH

by Johnson, Missy

  After Dad texted me, I went to bed and completely forgot about the pizza in the oven. The smoke alarm going off was what woke me up, what I think to be about a half hour later, along with the fire department banging down my door a few minutes after that. The person in the apartment across from me called the authorities when they arrived home from work and saw smoke escaping under my door. I guess it could have been much worse, but there was enough damage to keep me out of my place for a couple days while they fixed it. Normally I would have just crashed on Lewis’ couch, but he’d gone to visit his parents for the night. Not that it matters, because I was starting to see the benefits of being forced to stay here.

  Earlier, when Darcy and I were down in the kitchen, the look on her face when she saw me sitting there? It was priceless. Not to mention the sight of her trying to dislodge that milk free. Having to stay here for a couple of nights definitely has its positives, and one of them is having to sleep in the room next to her.

  I peel off my shirt and throw it in my room, before walking down the hallway to the bathroom. On my way back, I run straight into Darcy. I grab her wrists to steady her as she stumbles against me. She stares up at me, then her gaze lowers over my bare chest, then rises again, her cheeks a fiery red.

  “Did you purposely run into me, just so you could feel me up?” I tease her.

  “If I wanted to feel you up then I’d just do this,” she retorts

  I swallow, shifting positions as she slides her fingertips down over my stomach, my body shivering against her touch. But it’s the other ways my body reacts that really gets my smile widening. She glances down at my obvious erection and laughs.

  “Anyway, the answer to your question would be no,” she reiterates.

  I laugh. I probably deserved that, but fuck, she certainly has a way of expressing herself that I find very appealing. She smirks at me as she struts past me, to her room. When she reaches the door, she turns back and cocks her head.

  “By the way, I hope you sleep well.”

  Her voice is full of fake concern that instantly makes me suspicious.

  “Thanks,” I say slowly. “But is there any reason why I wouldn’t?”

  “It’s just that I took all the good pillows from the room you’re staying in and left all the shitty ones.”

  She disappears into the room, closing the door, leaving me shaking my head. I laugh, because some of the shit that comes out of her mouth is so fucking random that I cannot not believe it.

  After doing my business in the bathroom, head back to my room. I’m still thinking about Darcy when I crawl into bed a few minutes later. I whip out my phone, unable to resist sending her another text. I smirk when I hear the notification ping float through from her room, then the sound of her soft giggling as she reads it.

  Me: I know it’s late, but I just wanted to bid you a goodnight.

  Darcy: Bid? What are you, an eighteenth-century poet?

  Me: I was trying to be a gentleman. Just call me Mr. Darcy. I thought women liked that? Or are you one of those girls who likes assholes?

  Darcy: Nope. There’s only enough room for one asshole in a relationship. Me.

  Me: Probably why your ad was so successful…

  Darcy: Probably. Please tell me your last name isn’t Darcy?

  Me: Why? I think Darcy Darcy has a nice ring to it. I’ve heard similar things about your asshole.

  Darcy: So, we’re getting married now? Shouldn’t we meet first?

  Me: If you insist on us meeting first, then we shall. But for now, I bid you farewell. Goodnight, my fair Darcy.

  I smile as her chuckles filter through the thin walls again.

  Darcy: Night James.

  * * *

  “Mackie.”

  I throw my arms around my brother and give him a hug. He groans and struggles out of my grasp, but the smile on his face tells me he loves my attention. I know he looks up to me, probably because I’m that much older than him and because, let’s face it, I’m a really cool guy. How could he not want to be just like his older brother?

  “How about you spend the day with me?” I suggest.

  “Uh…school?” he reminds me, rolling his eyes.

  I roll my eyes right back at him.

  Is it Monday already? Where the fuck did Sunday go?

  “Like you don’t skip half your classes anyway,” I scoff. “Come on. It’ll be fun. How many days have you skipped this year already?” I add. I nod when he winces. “Exactly. So, one more day isn’t going to make much of a difference, is it?”

  He sighs loudly. “Okay, you twisted my arm. What do you want to do?” he asks.

  “Whatever you want.” I shrug, slapping him hard on the back. He flinches, then scowls up at me. “We can even go surfing if you want?” I suggest. That gets a smile. “There’s some decent wind around today, so the waves might be good,” I add.

  His grin widens. “Surfing sounds great, actually. But are you sure you remember how to do it? I’d hate to feel responsible for you drowning because you’ve turned into a pussy.”

  I chuckle. “I’ll be fine. It’s like riding a bike, right?”

  * * *

  Apparently, it’s not like riding a bike. Not at all.

  Mack laughs hysterically as I face plant into the water for the fifteenth time in a row. I can’t even keep my balance sitting on the damn thing, let alone attempting to stand up. Lucky for me, I don’t care if I look like a fool in front of my little brother. Especially if it’s making him smile.

  “Come on, Cam. Pull your shit together,” he teases.

  I glower at Mack, who’s paddling on his board a few feet away, heckling me.

  “Shut up,” I say, smothering a laugh. “I think I’m doing pretty well, considering I haven’t done this in years,” I add.

  “Yeah? Whose fault is that?” Mack taunts. “And no, you’re not doing well. Even by beginner standards, you’re doing shit.” He shakes his head at me. “You call this surfing? You should be ashamed. Lewis could stand on a board better than you are right now.”

  “Hey, I’ve been busy at work,” I protest with a laugh. “Something you wouldn’t understand because you’re twelve. And don’t swear at me, you little shithead.”

  “Oh, so it’s okay for you to swear but not me?” he says with a chuckle. “That smells like bullshit.”

  “I’m more than twice your age, so yes,” I retort.

  “Yeah, well I have more than twice your brain cells,” he jeers, splashing water at me “What are you going to do, anyway, tell Dad on me?”

  “If I thought it would make a difference, yes,” I reply. “You know, most twelve-year-old’s would have a bit more respect for their older brothers,” I point out.

  “Yeah, well, in case you didn’t notice, I’m not like most twelve-year-old’s and you’re not much of a brother,” he fires back.

  Fucking ouch.

  However, he’s got me; on both counts.

  Mack certainly is one of a kind and thank fuck for that but he’s right. I haven’t been much of a brother, because I’ve been too focused on my own life. I can use work as an excuse all I want, but both Mack and I know it’s just that. An excuse.

  We sit on our boards in silence for a moment, paddling as we wait for the next set of waves. It’s actually really nice out here. It’s both peaceful and quiet. The only sound is the soft rippling of the waves as they lap at our legs. I glance at Mack and smile.

  “I’m sorry I haven't been around much lately,” I say quietly. “You’re right. As far as brother’s go, I suck pretty hard.”

  There are so many innuendoes he could make to that comment, but he doesn’t. That right there is my first clue that something is bothering him.

  “Mack?” I prompt.

  He shrugs. “It’s nothing.”

  “Is it the wedding?” I ask. “Because I’m having the same trouble with trying to get my head around it,” I admit.

  He sits forward on his board and paddles his feet in the water,
staring down into it. Then he looks up and offers me a half-hearted smile.

  “Sometimes I feel like everyone’s forgotten me.” He looks over at me and smiles. “I get it,” he says. “You work and have your life. It’s cool, Cam. I don’t expect you to drop everything for me, but sometimes I feel like I fall between the cracks.”

  “With your mouth, you’re pretty unforgettable,” I say, only half-joking.

  It’s the most serious thing I’ve ever heard my brother say and it scares the fuck out of me.

  He smiles at me. “I like having Paula around,” he admits. “She's cool and she keeps Dad off my back. And Darcy’s fun to have around too.”

  “Because of all the shit you give Darcy, you mean,” I chuckle.

  “Oh, come on. I’m just messing around with her. I act out around her because it gets a reaction. I can still think she’s a cool chick. She seems to really not like you much though,” he adds with a grin.

  “You noticed that too, huh?” I smirk at him.

  “Bit hard not to,” he grins. “I guess I don’t blame her. You are a bit of a dick.”

  “Hey,” I grumble.

  I reach over to punch him on the arm, but I lose my balance and fall into the water. He's laughing when I resurface.

  “That's what you get for trying to be a fuckwit,” he guffaws.

  He looks out at the waves and then paddles furiously toward them. He stands up and starts riding the waves. I watch him for a moment because he’s pretty good. If he put his mind to it, he could be great. I used to be great. Enough that I was scouted by sponsors and shit, but after Mom died…well, when that happened, I stopped doing much of anything.

  I paddle out and attempt to ride the next lot of waves but once again I end up face down in the water, with my board on top of me.

  “Don’t give up your day job, you weak pussy,” Mack hollers.

  I chuckle, pick up my board and walk onto the sand. A passing couple give me a concerned look. I shrug at them.

  “He’s older than he looks.”

  I sit down on the sand and reach for my phone. I smile when I see a text waiting for me from Darcy. I actually look forward to her messages, and not just because she’s buying into my joke, but because I like hearing what she has to say. I like the witty comebacks and the fact that she handles most things with a smile.

  Does she really not like me?

  Because she seems to be enjoying James.

  Everything I say to her is true. I’m not making up some bullshit story, I’m just being myself. Even the name James isn’t something I just pulled out of nowhere. It’s my middle name. Whether she believes that when she finds out it’s me, that’s another story. I shake my head. Huh. Maybe I am starting to like her.

  No.

  It’s just because I’m staying there and around her so much…isn’t it? I shake off the thought as I grab my phone and click on her latest message.

  Darcy: I have a very serious question to ask you. This or that.

  Me: Excuse me?

  Darcy: You know. This or that. Which would you rather? Drink a glass of your jizz or a glass of someone else’s urine?

  I laugh. Is she fucking kidding me? They’re my choices? I make a face. I don’t even want to answer, just in case this turns into some kind of creepy proposition.

  Me: Is neither an option?

  Darcy: No. Stop being such a pussy and pick one.

  Me: Fine. The second option. Your turn. Sand or lemon juice in your vagina?

  I toss the phone on the towel next to me and I look out at Mack, who’s still in the water. I shiver as I watch him, feeling strangely empty. I find it so hard sometimes, but what I often forget is that this has to be even harder on him.

  We both lost Mom. It wasn’t just me.

  It’s been two years since she died, following a year long battle with cancer. I think about her a lot, probably more than I even realize. She sneaks into so many thoughts, sometimes even really random ones. I’ll be doing something as simple as watching a show, and something will remind me of her. I miss her. A lot. And I know Mack does too.

  I know Mom and Dad were on and off for a long time before she died, but just after her diagnosis, they got back together. In my irrational mind, he moved on from her death way too fast. But that’s not really what gets to me. It’s the significance of the date he's chosen to marry Paula on, and the fact that he has no fucking idea what it means. That’s what I’m struggling to accept.

  I scoop up my phone when it beeps, laughing at Darcy’s reply.

  Darcy: Fuck. That’s just mean. My options weren’t painful, at least.

  Me: That’s arguable. I’d find it very painful drinking a glass of urine.

  Darcy: There’s actually proven health benefits to drinking your own urine. People have been doing it for centuries.

  Me: Tell you what. You start doing it, then come talk to me about how those benefits are working for you. Also…let me know if you do start this practice so I can avoid kissing you.

  Darcy: Are you one of those guys who refuses to kiss a girl after she swallows your load?

  Me: No, actually. I love nothing more than tasting myself on a woman’s tongue.

  Darcy: Really?

  Me: No. Of course I don’t. There’s a reason I chose the urine.

  Dad’s name flashes on my screen. He’s not the person I want to be thinking about while discussing the pros and cons of tasting your own cum. I shudder, and then I press ignore. I do the same thing the next two times he tries to ring, because he obviously can’t take a hint.

  And then my phone is gone.

  I stare at my empty hands then look across at Mack, who’s holding it. I reach over and snatch it back. I’m shocked, because I didn't even notice he’d come out of the water, let alone that he’d sat next to me.

  “Hey,” I protest, swatting Mack’s hand away when he attempts to grab it again. I nudge him in the side. “Get your filthy paws off my shit.”

  “Who are you texting?” he asks, craning his neck to see. “Is it a girl? Are you seeing someone? Oh, Cam’s in love,” he croons, swaying back and forth. “So, when’s the wedding?” he asks, grinning. “Have you had sex yet?” he adds, thrusting his hips into the air. “Oooh, Cammy, yes, yes, yes!”

  “Shut up and leave me alone,” I growl at him. He’s a dick sometimes, but I can’t stay mad at him. “You’re an annoying little shit sometimes, you know that?” I say affectionately, tossing a handful of sand at him.

  He nods, looking proud of himself.

  “You’ve got no idea how much it means to me just to hear you say that.”

  * * *

  After we leave the beach, we head back home, grabbing some lunch on the way. I walk inside the house to find Dad standing there, pacing the living room. I panic. Maybe ignoring his phone calls wasn’t my smartest idea, but it’s too late now.

  “For fuck’s sake, Cameron. Where the hell have you been?” he snaps.

  I frown at him because he typically doesn’t use such a hard tone. Or swear. Ever.

  “Sorry, we just went out to catch some waves—”

  “And what about school?” he demands. He glares at Mack. “Was this your idea?”

  “Hey, don’t blame him,” I say. “It was my idea. I felt bad about not spending time with him—”

  “So, you thought you take him out of school? Do you even realize he is on his final warning? The principal called me. You’ve got no idea how lucky he is that he’s not expelled because of your stupidity.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” I say, frowning at him. “I just wanted to talk with him and make sure he was going okay.”

  “Why wouldn’t he be okay? "Of course he’s okay,” Dad snaps.

  I shake my head and laugh.

  “Yeah, sure he is.”

  Dad frowns at me. “What are you talking about, Cameron? Why wouldn’t he be okay?”

  I sigh. “Just forget about it.”

  “I think I’ll go to my room,�
�� Mack mumbles. He creeps out of the room, leaving the two of us alone.

  “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “Making him skip school was a stupid thing to do and I wasn’t thinking. It won’t happen again.”

  “I’ll take him back now.” He looks at me and sighs. “I’m glad you’re making an effort with him, Cameron, I’m just disappointed in you. You don’t think sometimes. And when I got that call from his school, I panicked…”

  I nod stiffly and swallow, because the one thing I hate being told more than anything else is that I’m a disappointment. No other word makes me feel like such a failure as that word does. I might act like I don’t care, but the truth is I do. I care a lot. I stare back at Dad, feeling tense and on edge.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeat, a hardness to my voice that wasn’t there before. “Next time I’ll think more like you would.”

  He frowns at me, probably trying to work out if that’s an insult or a compliment. Then he turns around and glances up the stairs.

  “Mack,” Dad calls out. “We’re going. Grab your things.”

  Mack comes bounding down from upstairs. He gives me a sympathetic look as he follows Dad out of the house. I sit down on the arm of the chair and laugh. All I wanted was to do something nice for Mack and once again, I just didn’t think.

  “Fuck,” I hiss, clasping my hands behind my head.

  I love him because he’s my father, but fuck, I hate him sometimes.

  * * *

  I head upstairs and jump in the shower, because it’s the best way I know how to relax. Well, I know a few other ways to relax, but after that last time when someone walked in on me, I’ll save the potentially embarrassing situations for another day.

  I stand under the hot stream of water and groan, the sensation of the hot water scalding my back addictive. Eventually, the water begins to run cold, so I reluctantly turn it off and step out. I dry myself off then throw on a pair of boxers, but I’m fucked if I can find a clean shirt or a pair of jeans. I frown, because I’m pretty sure I threw some in the wash yesterday. With any luck, Paula will have cleaned them. I saunter down to the laundry, relieved when I spot them hanging up. I spin around when I hear a noise that sounds a lot like a strangled gasp, but there’s no one there.