Dirty Stepbrother

by Alycia Taylor

  Shit, fucking blackmailing piece of shit! “Okay, fine,” I said, proving those anger management classes worked.

  “Okay, then I’ll sign off on it. It’s a big deal for you and you shouldn’t miss it. I don’t mean to downplay that part of it. I know you’re proud of it and you should be. Just remember how easy it is to fall from grace. If you have anxiety, doubts, the urge to use…call someone, reach out to someone and above all, remember that the only place it got you before was rock bottom. Alcohol and drugs are always a temporary fix.”

  I nodded and said, “I’ll remember. I really don’t want to go back to living like that.” They weren’t only a temporary fix, they were like putting a Band-Aid on that was going to pull the skin off underneath and make everything worse.

  “Good,” he said, “I don’t believe that you do. You’ve made a lot of progress here. How is everything else going?”

  “Good; great, actually.”

  “Um…there is something I think we should talk about,” Elly interrupted.

  What the hell? What is she doing? She never brought stuff up when we met with my therapist. I was racking my brains wondering what the hell it could be.

  “What is it that we need to talk about, Elly?” the doctor asked.

  “Well, it’s actually something I need to talk to Tristan about. I don’t feel like he’s been honest with me.”

  Jesus! Fuck! What is she doing? If it was something she needed to talk to me about, why was she doing it here. Was this about Brooke? I was glaring at her trying to get her to stop, but she just kept talking.

  “Tristan, yesterday when you dropped your stuff in the living room, I picked it up and I saw the papers on top.”

  Motherfucker! What the hell was she doing telling me this in front of the fucking doctor? She snooped through my shit and twenty-four hours later, she suddenly wanted to talk about it.

  I took a deep breath and tried to put myself in a calmer place. If I went off on her right then in front of the doctor, he wasn’t going to sign off on letting me go. She knew that. I got it right then; that’s why she wanted to talk about it there. Jesus, it wasn’t like I was going to backhand her or something.

  “Okay,” I said. “You found them and obviously you stepped all over some boundaries and read them,” It was sarcastic but not aggressive. I learned the difference in one of my classes. I guess I wasn’t a complete idiot.

  She looked like I had backhanded her. Then she said, “That’s not fair. You can’t turn this around on me. You lied to me.”

  “Wait, let’s back up,” the doctor said. He was completely lost. Good; it was none of his fucking business.

  I was still shooting her a warning look. There was still time for her to let this shit go. This couldn’t go anywhere good. Jesus, why right then? She knew how important it was he signed those papers. Fuck! I was hoping she got the meaning behind my look just about the time she opened her mouth again and spilled the beans.

  “You’ve been kicked out of your apartment since you got out of rehab. You got evicted for not paying the rent for three months.” She may as well have brought the fucking papers and read them aloud. She went on to say, in an accusing voice, “You’ve been living with me for three months and you lied that whole time.”

  “Fine, now that we all know that I’m a broke loser maybe you can explain where the fuck you get that I lied?” Fuck anger management. I was pissed right then and I had a right to be. Who the fuck did she think she was?

  “Tristan,” the doctor said in his smooth therapist voice that just served to piss me off more, “Calm down, okay? Let’s just talk about it.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about except the fact that she’s sitting here in front of you and calling me a liar. First of all, if she had an issue with me, this should have been done at home, and second of all, I never lied. She never asked me anything about my fucking apartment so I’d really like to know how she thinks she has a right to call me a liar. It was my business and I had no obligations to tell her. I’m sure there is plenty of shit in her past that she hasn’t told me about. Is that all a lie?”

  “You lied by omission, Tristan. It’s not the same as just not talking about something in your past. This was something that involved me, too. You were living with me…I was supporting you. That was something we should have talked about,” she said.

  She was just pissing me off more and more. Suddenly, she wanted some kind of credit for being a fucking martyr and taking in the homeless addict off the street. I wondered if she’d like me to tell the doctor how much she likes fucking the homeless addict, or maybe how she was the one who came to see me in that bar and fucked me in the bathroom that first night. I was tempted.

  “Why would we need to talk about it, Elly? So I could feel like shit about it? Was talking about it going to change the situation? If we had talked about it, were you going to not let me live with you? I don’t like being called a liar. I have no problems telling it like it is—if there’s a reason for it. Was there a reason for me telling you I got evicted other than you feeling fucking superior because you had an apartment and a job? Fuck no!”

  “Tristan….” the doctor tried again.

  “No!” I said, standing up. “Fuck this!” I walked out. I heard the doctor calling out to me, but I wasn’t going back. I couldn’t believe that Elly, of all people, had just thrown me underneath the fucking bus like that. I didn’t even think about him signing off on the fucking tour either. If I showed up without the papers, what were they going to do? I already won in front of hundreds of millions of people. The tour was already sold out. Fuck him and the papers—and Elly, too!

  I pushed open the outside doors and let them slam hard on my way out. I got to my bike just as I heard them push open again. I knew it was Elly, so I didn’t look back. I got on my bike and as I drove away, I saw her standing there with her arms folded as if she was the one who had a right to be pissed. She could have talked to me about it the other night…or that morning….but no, she fucking puts it out there in front of the doctor like a little fucking kid who is tattling to the teacher. She had no right! I was actually glad I didn’t go in there and tell her the night before like I was tempted to. She didn’t deserve my honestly if she was going to be a sneak and a traitor.

  Chapter Four

  Elly

  I watched Tristan drive out of the parking lot. I knew he was pissed that I’d brought it up in front of the doctor. I’m not even sure why I did. Maybe I knew how he was going to react and it felt safer to come out with it in front of a witness. I wasn’t sorry I confronted him about it, though. He said that he didn’t lie, but I felt that he did. I was supporting him; I had been for three months. I gave him a place to live and I went to all of his appointments with him. How the hell did he figure that I didn’t have a right to know? For his fucking information, I had an apartment and a job before he came along. After I met him, I lost one of them—because of him.

  I didn’t care what he said; a lie by omission is still a lie. Right then, I was wondering if that was all he wanted me for. He was desperate for a place to stay and he knew I was easy to manipulate. So far, I hadn’t really told him no about anything he wanted. It was my fault he expected me to give him everything he needed.

  When I got home, I told Susie what I did.

  “You brought it up there…in the therapist’s office?” She had a look on her face that told me she had something to say about it…but she was hesitant for whatever reason.

  “Yes. I thought it was the best place. He opens up there more than he does with just me…usually. What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

  She shrugged her shoulders. “Nothing.”

  I felt anger rising inside of me. “Bullshit, Susie. I can tell you’re thinking something. What is it? Tristan has already raked me over the coals today. You may as well too.”

  She sighed and said, “Don’t get mad; I’m just wondering if it wouldn’t have been better to talk to him about it in privat
e since you know how he gets. He’s so weird about his personal business, you know?”

  “I know, I thought about that. I knew he was going to be pissed about me looking at the legal papers. He shouldn’t have left them out like that though if he had something to hide. But, I know that you’re right, I should have tried it in private first. I wasn’t even sure I was going to bring it up today. It just came out and then he got all defensive and it pissed me off and I couldn’t let it go.”

  “I’d be pissed, too, that he didn’t tell me, don’t get me wrong. He should have told you. Maybe just apologize for where you brought it up but let him know you’re not going to tolerate him just not telling you things and calling it honesty. It’s okay to stand up for yourself. Sometimes with dicks—um, I mean men—you just have to go about it in a roundabout way for your own piece of mind.”

  I was nodding. She was right. The only way we’d get past this was if I started out with an apology. I knew how he was and I knew that he wasn’t going to make the first move. I think hell would truly freeze over before I ever heard Tristan genuinely apologize for anything.

  “Thanks, Susie, you’re right.”

  “I usually am,” she said with a grin.

  I lay in bed and listened for him. I figured if he came back, he would sleep on the couch. He was going to do his absolute best to avoid me at all costs; I knew him well. I planned on talking to him then, but it was after midnight when I heard him come in. I wondered where he’d been, and of course I wondered if he’d been using. I had to trust that he wasn’t going to go there every time things got a little stressful. Either way, I wasn’t going to get up and argue with him in the middle of the night. Besides, it would be worse because we were both tired; Susie didn’t need to be woken up with that. Maybe things would be calmer in the morning and we could talk about it before or on our way to leave for the tour.

  I woke up when my alarm went off at six. We had to be there at eight to get on the buses. I’d asked Susie to take us so that we didn’t have to leave my car or his bike parked downtown. I started to get in the shower but decided I should make some coffee and wake Tristan up first. I decided that we should get the discussion over with before the tour began.

  I slipped on my robe and slippers and went out into the living room. The blanket he used when he slept there was rumpled up on the couch, but Tristan wasn’t there. I looked around and realized his things were all gone too. The big chicken shit took off early so he didn’t have to talk to me. I’d woken up calmer and ready to apologize for my part of it; then I was pissed all over again. I took my shower and got ready to go. Since I was leaving early, I just called a cab and left Susie a note. I would call her later and check in. I dragged my two suitcases and overnight bag down the stairs and waited for the cab. I was a little pissed off at him about the fact that I wasn’t as excited as I should be because of all his crap.

  I got to the studio around seven-fifteen. I wasn’t surprised to see that it was already crowded; everyone was excited to get on the road. The crew was loading things up and the singers were mingling around with stars in their eyes—looking at the beginning of a new career, they hoped. I looked around but didn’t see Tristan. I wondered if he was still excited and I started to feel bad for my part in taking some of that away from him. I was softening, as I always did. I was going to head down to the music room and see if he was there for some reason, when I ran into Tony.

  “Hey, Elly!” I really could hardly stand to look at him these days. The little bald bastard had almost seemed to take some kind of pleasure in it the day they let me go. Right then he was all smiles. I wasn’t in the mood for his fake shit.

  “Hey,” I said, brushing past him. I really didn’t have anything nice to say to him. I needed to find Tristan.

  “If you’re looking for Tristan, he’s already on his own bus.” One thing Tristan was always right about was what a little prick this guy was. He said it like he was smart and knew everything. I wanted to tell him he was wrong, I wasn’t looking for Tristan, but he’d peaked my curiosity.

  “He has his own bus?”

  “Yeah, he’s got his own bus. That way he can rehearse and get plenty of rest. It was part of his winning the show, too. He is the star, after all.”

  “Yeah, he is,” I agreed. I tried to walk away again. I was feeling worse and worse for taking anything away from this for him, no matter how much right I’d had to be mad at him. I needed to find him before we left.

  I’d taken two steps and Tony said, “Hey, Elly?”

  “What!” That came out a lot snappier than I intended it to. My attitude was getting pissier and my mouth was getting dirtier; maybe I was spending too much time with Tristan. Or maybe I was just blaming Tristan for all of my short-comings. “Sorry, Tony. I’m just…never mind. What is it?”

  “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry about everything and welcome back.”

  Little prick! I’d bet that wasn’t what he was going to say. He just wanted to make me feel bad. “Thanks, Tony.”

  He finally let me walk away. I found my way through the crowd out to the back where the buses were waiting. I showed my badge and asked the security guard which bus was which. He directed me to the crew buses. I dropped my stuff next to the one that the girls in the crew would be on. We’d be sleeping on it in some of the towns we stopped in so they’d split up the crew by gender. I almost felt like I was back in high school going on a field trip.

  He hadn’t pointed out Tristan’s so I looked around for one that looked like it might belong to the star. I saw a big black one with blacked out windows. It was like a limousine bus. I went over to it. The doors were open so I stepped up inside. It was like a studio apartment. Lucky bastard, I was going to have to sleep on a cot on a bus with ten other women. I saw Clay, the drummer for the band that played for the contestants, slumped down in a chair in the seating area looking like he had a hangover, or maybe he just wasn’t a morning person. Either way he looked like shit.

  “Hey, Clay, is Tristan around?”

  Clay pointed to the back. The bus was huge and that part partitioned off; I guessed it was the star’s sleeping quarters. I made my way down the long aisle and knocked on the door.

  “What?”

  “Tristan, it’s Elly. Can we talk?”

  “Nah, we don’t have anything to talk about.” I felt a surge of anger rush through my veins again. How dare he be mad at me when I was the one doing everything for him and he couldn’t even be honest with me? Of course there I was, the one with the olive branch. He always did this…he turned it around to try and make me think it was all my fault. It wasn’t going to work this time.

  I pounded on the door again and I heard him say, “Fuck!” then I heard shuffling around and he finally pulled open the door. He looked like he’d been sleeping. I wondered if he’d gotten up in the middle of the night and come down there.

  “What?” he yelled at me again.

  “Don’t yell at me!”

  “Don’t bang on my fucking door!”

  I took a deep breath. This was stupid…I didn’t want this whole tour to be like this. That would be so uncomfortable…. “Can we talk? Five minutes? Please, we just need to work this out.”

  “Nothing to work out,” he said. “You’re a snitch. If you were in prison you’d have an ugly scar down the side of your pretty face.” So fucking mature.

  “Fuck you, Tristan!” I was stooping to his level.

  He closed the door in my face. I turned around and right then the entire band was on the bus and looking right at me. “Fuck all of you too!” I said. Jesus, I sounded just like him.

  Chapter Five

  Tristan

  It only took a few hours to get to Vegas. We had rooms at the MGM, which was cool. I would have been okay on the bus, but I wasn’t going to turn down a VIP luxury room, either. They gave us a schedule and it was pretty tight because our first show was the next morning. We weren’t allowed to run around Vegas at all, but the section of
the hotel we were in was completely private and it had a little mini casino, a couple of restaurants, and bars and gift shops. It was cool; behind where the rest of the tourists partied, they didn’t even know we were there.

  I avoided Elly. I’d never seen her as pissed as she was when she barged into the bus and told everyone to fuck off. The guys in the band thought it was hilarious. It was funny to see her like that actually…she was usually so even tempered. I wasn’t even sure why she thought she had a right to be mad at me. She’d gone snooping and then blurted my personal business out without even talking to me about it. I wanted to concentrate on the show and having a good time. I wasn’t going to let that shit follow me around and drag me down.

  I had to meet with the stylist and then get together with the band on my bus for practice. In the midst of all that, I got a note delivered to my door by one of Jake’s assistant’s that said Jake wanted to see me tomorrow before the show. Jake was the big wig producer that Elly was so fond of. I didn’t see that he was really any less of a prick than the rest of them. I wondered what the fuck I did. I wasn’t going to worry about it, though; I had too much other shit to do.

  I went down two floors to the room I was supposed to meet the stylist in. In the past, the cheap bastards gave the contestants four hundred dollars for each performance to buy their outfit. I say cheap bastards, but honestly, I got some nice stuff with it. The problem as usual was the girls. They whined so much about that, the producers had changed the rules. They made it worse instead of better. They changed it so that they take our measurements and the stylists bring clothes in and then help us choose what we’re going to wear. I didn’t need help, but what the fuck ever. I wasn’t going to whine about it like the girls. Brooke had gone on about it at dinner for an hour the other night.

  “Hi, Tristan!” Holly, the lead stylist opened the door for me. There were three others in the room. The hairstylist was a flaming gay guy who was funny as shit. I liked him, but I didn’t care much for the uptight make-up artist and her assistant.