by B. B. Hamel
Tickets were 200 bucks a pop. Proceeds went to nature preserves all across Colorado. Without a doubt, I was the poorest person in attendance, if you didn’t count the other staff. Maybe even if you did, since I didn’t exactly have any of my own money. Going to school full time didn’t leave much room for anything else.
I was supposed to be greeting everyone as they entered and pointing out the coat check, but I was a little preoccupied. My conversation with Lincoln kept playing over and over in my head, and although it felt like he had been avoiding me in the days leading up to the event, he had promised he would show. He was already a half hour late, but I didn’t exactly expect him to be prompt. Still, a phone call or even a text would have been great.
“Everything going okay, Brie?” Jules’s voice chirped in through the earpiece.
I cringed. “Yep. We’re all good up front. Need me to do anything?”
“No, dear, not at all. This is going fantastic. Thank you so much.”
Her walkie clicked out and I smiled to myself. I had to admit, for a last minute rush job, I had managed to find a pretty decent place. It was an old firehouse that had been bought and converted into event space a year or two earlier, and they luckily had a cancelation last minute. Some wedding that was called off or something.
Oh well. That couple’s tragedy worked out pretty well in my favor. It was probably for the best that they didn’t get married. Better they figured it out before the wedding than after it.
I spaced out for a few minutes as the sea of guests began to increase. Not too much longer until show time, I realized. As I was about to turn away and check on Jules, a familiar voice cut through the din of the other chatting guests.
“Hey, sweetheart.”
I turned and looked. “Hey, Dad. Broke out the tux, I see.”
He grinned. I had to admit, my dad was in good shape for a guy his age, and he looked pretty dapper in his fancy clothes. Not that he dressed up very often. Actually, I had no clue how often he dressed up. I was beginning to realize that I didn’t know much about my dad, despite having been raised by the man. But things weren’t exactly weird between us, regardless of what Lincoln had told me about him. I was having trouble seeing him as anyone other than the man who was there for me when mom died, all those years ago. Even if he was distant, I knew that he loved me.
He walked up and gave me a quick peck on the cheek.
“How’s Jules holding up?” he asked.
I shrugged. “She seems fine,” I said, pointing at the earpiece.
He laughed. “Seriously? You’re like the Secret Service.”
I grinned. “Way more intense than that. Jules is treating this like it’s actually going to save the world.”
“Who knows with her. It really might.”
“She can be surprising sometimes.”
“She sure can. Any clue where she’s off to?”
“Nope, none. Last I saw, she was hounding the drink staff.”
“Okay, kiddo. I’ll let you get back to work.”
I laughed. “I’m mostly just standing here looking important.”
“That’s the hardest work of all. See you later.”
He gave me a grin and walked off. I watched him disappear into the crowd, smiling softly to myself, as more and more people filtered into the space, filling up the seats.
Ten minutes dragged by with only a few questions from lost-looking elderly women. Twenty minutes and the flow of people had slowed down to a trickle. The room was mostly full with rich people in their finery sitting at banquet tables and drinking too much from the open bar.
I could have used a drink myself. But unfortunately I was on duty.
No Lincoln. I checked my phone again and typed him a message. Where are you? This thing is starting. I hit send and sighed to myself as Jules chirped into my ear.
“How is it up there?”
“Mostly clear. Are we starting soon?”
“We sure are. Wait another few minutes. Then head on over to your seat.”
“Okay, thanks.”
She clicked off and I sighed. Unless Lincoln was about to stroll in through that door, he was officially a no-show. I don’t know why I expected any different, but for some reason, since it was a special favor, I figured he’d come on time. Instead, I was going to go sit at my banquet table next to an empty chair and feel like a loser.
The lights in the main room dimmed, and the front lobby cleared out except for the staff. I sighed again, dreading the awkward dinner portion, and glanced at my phone again. No text.
“Okay, Aubrie, close up those doors and head on in,” Jules chirped into my ear.
“Got it.”
Reluctantly, I turned and headed toward the main area, slowly pulling the doors shut behind me. Just as they were about to click shut, a bright light caught my attention. I watched as Lincoln, dressed in a tux, limped into the lobby, followed by Jess and a single cameraman, a high light shining directly into my eyes.
I squinted and looked away.
“Hey, Brie,” Lincoln said.
“You’re late.” I walked back into the lobby and out of the direct beam of light.
And stared at Lincoln. I had never seen him dressed up, but he looked incredible. The black and white clothes fit him perfectly, letting every lean muscle of his ripped body shine through, and his rain-green eyes stood out under his perfectly styled hair. He was still covered in tattoos, but they only peeked out through his shirtsleeves and the collar of his shirt. His face had his usual stubble, but it only made his clean look seem all the more desirable.
Suddenly, I regretted inviting him. He looked too fucking good.
“This is where I leave you,” he said, looking at Jess.
“Anything to say to your adoring public before you go in?” she asked.
He looked directly into the camera. “Stay in school and wear a condom, you fucking monsters.”
The cameraman stifled a laugh and I grinned. Jess rolled her eyes.
“Okay, Brent, that’s good. Let’s cut it there.”
“Are you guys staying?” I asked as Brent shut his equipment down.
“No. They weren’t invited,” Lincoln said, giving Jess a look.
“Just getting a shot of Lincoln in his most fancy attire.”
I laughed. “It is a little weird to see him in anything but workout clothes.”
He grinned. “I even brought my fancy cane.” He held it up, and I laughed. The top was a silver skull with little diamonds in its eyes, and the length was a shiny, polished black sheen. Jess shook her head.
“He’s been so excited about that cane.”
“Can you blame me? Look at this thing. It’s fucking fantastic.”
I shook my head. “Come on. We’re late already. Jules is going to scream if we’re not in our seats within the next twenty seconds.”
Lincoln grinned at me and gestured toward my ear. “Is that mother dearest?”
“Sure is.”
“Okay then. Let’s not keep her waiting. Jess, Brent, farewell and goodnight.”
“Have fun, kids,” Jess said, and Brent gave us a nod.
Lincoln limped over toward me and held out his arms. “My lady?”
“What a gentleman.”
I slipped my hand through his arm and placed it on his bicep, feeling the strong bulge. I felt tingles run down my spine.
“Not such a gentleman. I’m using you for support.”
I laughed. “Well, at least you have the appearance down.”
“You know me. Always with the appearances.”
We walked together into the main banquet room just as Jules was beginning to introduce the speaker. She didn’t glance in our direction, but I felt many of the heads in the room snap toward us. Eyes locked onto Lincoln and stared at him, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. He simply moved forward with me, looking smug and confident as he entered the room. I couldn’t imagine many of them recognized him, since they weren’t exactly his target audience, b
ut there had to be a few people conscious enough of pop culture to know him. I just hoped it wasn’t weird.
Quickly, we found our spots, and the waiters filled our wine glasses. Lincoln gave me a grin as the speaker walked onstage.
Suddenly, looking at his cocky and alluring smile, I realized something.
Inviting him was a bad idea. A really bad idea. I thought it would be fun to have someone my age around, but my heart wouldn’t stop hammering just sitting near him, and he kept giving me these looks. These arrogant, sexy looks that made my knees shake.
It was going to be a long night.
“Are you Based Carter?”
The girl was probably our age, maybe a couple years younger, and had long, dirty blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. She was pretty in a conventional way, skinny and tall and all that. She was our waitress and I had seen her eyeing Lincoln all night long as one speaker turned into the next. He had pretended like he didn’t notice, or at least he hadn’t acted like he cared, until she finally worked up the nerve to ask.
“I sure am. What’s your name?”
“Wow. I’m Cindy. I’m a huge fan of yours.”
“That’s cool. Thanks, Cindy. Always good to meet a fan.”
“Listen, will you sign something?”
“Sure. Napkin?”
“I mean, they’re cloth.” She frowned, unsure.
He wasn’t listening. He pulled the napkin off his lap and looked up at her. She hesitated a second and then held out a black Sharpie. He proceeded to write, “To Cindy, jump off shit and fly, Based Carter” on the napkin and handed it to her.
“Not used, I promise.”
She giggled. “That’s okay. I mean, thanks so much.”
“No problem, Cindy.” He gave her an absolutely winning smile.
I was surprised by how smoothly he handled it. I knew he was famous, but that was the first time I had seen him deal with a fan. Clearly he had practice.
She stood there for a second staring at him before scampering off, shoving the napkin into her pocket quickly. I gave Lincoln a look.
“Does that happen a lot?” I asked.
“Not really. I mean, more and more in the last year, but it’s not like BASE jumping is super popular.”
“Still, must feel weird.”
“You’re not kidding. After the clothing deal went through, and I was in that Pepsi ad, I got recognized a lot more. That was surreal.”
“Pepsi ad. I forgot about that.”
He laughed. “How could you? Worst shit I’ve ever done, but they paid me a lot.”
I laughed along with him. He hadn’t talked much about his career until then. Throughout the years apart, I had seen him go from pretty obscure jumper to being in national ad campaigns. He wasn’t exactly Hollywood famous or anything like that, but whenever there was an extreme sports-based campaign, they always called up Based Carter. He was becoming pretty recognizable.
So much that his waitresses gushed over him like he was something special.
I took a bite of my salad and looked away. The speaker portion of the night was over, and most people were eating their “complimentary” dinner and drinking from the open bar. Lincoln was keeping our entire table entertained with stories from his travels, which ranged from a friend of his that pretended to fall off a cliff but was actually wearing a parachute to the time he broke the world record for jumping from a man-made structure only to end up arrested a few hours later. He was charming and kind and magnetic, and I could barely keep my eyes off him.
Which only made the doubt lodged in the center of my stomach that much worse. I knew what I wanted, but there were too many things in our way.
Mostly the fact that he was my stepbrother.
As the waitress took away our plates, a live string band began to play something slow but apparently danceable. I watched couples stand up from their tables, make their way to the little dance floor, and begin to slowly move around the space. Lincoln gave me a grin.
“Now that’s what I call classic,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Old people dancing to old music.”
I laughed. “It does look a little . . . slow.”
“And you prefer it fast,” he said. Not a question, but a statement.
I hit his thigh. “Cut it out.”
He looked innocent. “What? Just making the logical assumption.”
“Yeah, you’re so logical all the time, aren’t you?”
“I sure am. Just because I didn’t go to college doesn’t mean I can’t think.”
I ground my teeth. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh, sorry, my uneducated brain must not have understood.”
I shook my head, frustrated, and he grinned hugely at me.
“Do you ever turn off?” I asked him.
“Can’t turn off perfection.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Makes sense to me. Why are you so on edge tonight, anyway?”
I sighed and took a sip of my wine. “I don’t know. I hate this sort of thing, I guess.”
“What, a charity event full of old white people?”
I laughed. “Yeah, that. Also crowds and working for your mom.”
“I don’t blame you there.”
“I shouldn’t complain. She’s been good to me.”
“You can feel however you feel, Brie baby. It’s cool.”
I blinked, surprised by his decent response. “Was that a glimmer of humanity I just got from you?”
He laughed, and I wanted to reach forward and kiss the stubble along his throat.
“Don’t get used to it.”
He leaned back in his chair and finished his wine in three big gulps, gesturing at the waitress for another. She quickly came over to refill it. I rolled my eyes at him as she left.
“Fame must be nice,” I said.
“Has its perks.”
I looked across the room, trying to spot my dad or Jules, but couldn’t see either of them. “Did you see my dad yet?” I asked.
He froze in his seat. “Cliff is here?”
I gave him a look. “Yeah, of course. It’s his wife’s event.”
“I just figured he was too busy.”
“Nope. He’s here. What’s the deal, why do you look weird?”
He shook his head and composed himself, but for a moment there he looked like he had seen a ghost. His expression was quickly rearranged into his usual cocky grin, but I couldn’t help but wonder what that had meant.
“Not a thing, sweet Brie. Want to dance?”
I laughed. “Dance? Can’t you barely walk?”
He jerked his head at the dance floor. “Look at that pace. I think I can handle it.”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to push you.”
He leaned in close and I felt the blood rush to my brain. “You couldn’t push me too far even if you tried.”
“Okay. Let’s see about that.” I pushed my chair back and stood up.
His face broke out into a huge smile as he struggled to his feet and grabbed his stupid, skull-headed cane. “That’s the spirit.”
We walked together out toward the dance floor as the original song ended and another began. We stood for a second and watched how the old people were dancing.
“Think you can handle it?” he asked me.
“After you, Prince Charming.”
He dropped his cane onto the carpet and stepped out onto the floor, gesturing for me. I stepped up against him, standing with my hand in his and his arm on my hip, the oldest and most cliché dance position ever.
“Think my cane is safe there? These old dudes look pretty shady.”
I giggled softly. “I think you’re safe.”
We began to dance, matching the pace of the people around us. It was a simple step, just a few paces and a turn, and the rhythm was easy enough.
For a second, the world fell away. Lincoln wasn’t my stepbrother and I wasn’t stressed about Jules and being
stuck at home without any friends in the area. There was just me and him, his strong hands guiding me, his breath close against my face, and my heart beating hard in my chest. I didn’t care who saw us or what they thought. The only thing I wanted was for the song to keep playing. He was smooth and strong and confident, and we quickly fell into an easy step together. Despite his injuries, he never fell behind or gave any indication that his legs were bothering him.
I breathed deeply and filled myself with his smell, losing myself in him. I had never danced that way before with anyone, had really only ever danced with guys in clubs, but for some reason it was so much more intimate with Lincoln. Although my ass wasn’t crushing up against his dick, and we looked like proper rich people, I still felt like we were coming closer together than I ever had with anyone else. Maybe it was the glass of wine, though I doubted it.
It was getting harder and harder to deny. What I wanted, what I desperately wanted, kept threatening to overwhelm what I was doing. Every new step, every turn, every time I breathed in his smell and felt his strong hand against my hip.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice cutting through the music.
“Yeah, fine. Just hot I guess.” I looked away from his rain-green eyes.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” he practically growled into my ear.
“I can’t. I mean, Jules would kill me.”
He reached up and snatched the radio from my ear. I barely had time to register what he had done before it was pushed into his ear. He pressed the button to broadcast.
“Jules, it’s your son. I’m taking Brie home. She’s not feeling well.”
We kept dancing, keeping up appearances as he listened to her response. After a second, he grinned at me and pulled the earpiece out.
“All clear,” he said.
“Are you sure?”
“Come on. This shit isn’t getting any better.”
I sighed. “Fine. Let’s go.”
We moved off the floor, Lincoln’s limp a little more pronounced. I grabbed his cane for him, and he wrapped his hand through my arm. He was leaning a little more on me than he had before, but he wasn’t letting any pain show on his face. I could tell that the dancing had taken a lot out of him, though. The jerk wasn’t going to complain about it, he was just going to let me literally torture him with dancing.