Falling for My Son's Best Friend

by Cassandra Dee

  “Obscene ones,” I stuttered. “Ass-Hole Chickie, Two-Holer, Double Banger, I can’t even remember.”

  “And what did you do then?” asked Bob gently.

  “I ran!” I sobbed. “I saw a couple other guys pick up shovels as well, loosening their belts, and I … I had to get out of there.”

  “We get it,” soothed Bob, looking over at the jury. “And does this happen all the time now? The harassment, I mean?”

  “Yes,” I said, my voice cracking. “Everywhere I go, people look at me I’m some sex doll, a Barbie with no inhibitions. But I’m just a normal girl!”

  And it went on and on after that, the questioning. I described to the jury my constant paranoia, using aliases when I traveled, switching hotel rooms at the last minute, how I’d seriously considered changing my name.

  “And I’m scared,” I concluded, my voice stiff. “I’m always looking over my shoulder, thinking someone’s taping. But it’s my job to be on camera,” I said bitterly. “And it’s pure hell for me now.”

  Because it was true. I’d started filming again, reporting from the sidelines and it’d been disaster the first couple times. I couldn’t look into the camera and smile, instead I’d look around nervously, my eyes twitching, see who was around.

  “Straight into the camera!” yelled the producer. “Look straight, big smile.”

  And I tried, I really did, but with so many cell phone cameras, people holding them up to snap me, selfie sticks constantly waving in my peripheral vision, it was tough.

  “So I can’t do my job,” I concluded softly. “I had so much promise, and now I’m the sportscaster afraid to be on TV. Me, Stacey Light,” I said bitterly, looking down. “I wish you could have just one day in my shoes.”

  The hum from the crowd was sympathetic. After all, it was clear I was an innocent party and there wasn’t much for the jury to debate. The trial went pretty quickly after that, guilty verdicts handed down.

  But when it came time for sentencing, I was left in shock.

  “Six months in prison and probation for three years thereafter,” intoned the judge.

  My head spun. Six months of jail time was ridiculous when my life had been destroyed, torn to tatters. The defendant had purposefully filmed me hoping to sell the video, and admitted it fully. I didn’t care if he was remorseful, if he was old, if he was in financial straits and “acted dumb, sorry.” Six months wasn’t enough.

  It’s embarrassing what happened next. Through it all, I’d been strong. I’d gone to therapy, meditated, worked out like a maniac, even danced at the Donkey to regain my confidence.

  But this punishment was nothing, a mere slap on the wrist for destroying my life, as if I meant nothing. And I lost it, my walls crumbling, my defensive shields reduced to smithereens. With a wail, I fell into a faint, caught by Pax and Peyton, their twin forms shielding me from the negativity, the pain. I couldn’t take it … not without them.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Pax

  It hurt like hell to watch Stacey go through with the trial. Even seeing the defendant in the courtroom was hard, it’s difficult to look evil in the eye. I’d watched as Stacey did it, marshalling her courage, and my heart went out to her, you could see the pulse leaping in her throat, her eyes filled with hurt and rage as she confronted her attacker. Me, I just wanted to hammer the asshole into the pavement, that guy was nothing, less than zero.

  The verdict came out guilty, but we expected that. There was no disputing the facts of the case, Lester was a dirty douche who’d tried to make a buck off of Stacey’s naked body.

  But that’s the worst thing about the process. Throughout the testimony, I could see our sister question herself. Should she have noticed that her peephole was different? Why didn’t she check-in under an alias? All public figures do, don’t they? The self-doubt and second-guessing heaped on our little sister was painful, we could see her crumpling under the strain, the barbs unbearable.

  So Peyton and I took things into our own hands. We didn’t get to where we are by being the nicest guys. You don’t get to the top without making some enemies, and my twin and I have a system for keeping those enemies in check. Fight fire with fire, right?

  “Sister,” I said to her calmly as we sat in the living room, “we want you to meet someone.” Stacey had moved in with us by now, allegedly to calm her nerves, and it was partially true. We wanted her to feel better, to be able to breathe deeply, and there was nowhere better than our Long Island estate. The water was tranquil, there was private beachfront and plenty of sunshine to keep her spirits up.

  Even more, we wanted her under our protection, installed at our home with its twelve-foot gates and top-of-the-line electronic security system. Plus, there was always us, only idiots would target the home of two six-four pro athletes.

  “I don’t know Pax,” she said listlessly, her face pale and turned away. “I’m not really up for meeting anyone.” The aftermath had been hard, there’d been public outrage about the outcome of the trial, but nothing had changed. The six month prison term still stood.

  “I want you to meet our friend Henry,” I said slowly. “He’s a friend of ours from Alabama.”

  “Oh another football player?” she asked disinterestedly. “No Pax, I can’t, I’m just not up to it, I’m sorry.”

  That was true, our step had become a shut-in, only leaving the house for a quick run or to take the dog out for a walk. Stacey had taken leave from her job to recuperate, but we were worried that she’d never go back, simply fade away, a wraith, a shadow pacing around the house.

  “No honey,” I said slowly. “Henry’s an attorney, he was at Bama Law while we were undergrads. Now he’s a law professor who’s been following your case.”

  Her nose wrinkled. “What could a law professor have to say?” she asked. “Everything’s done and sealed. No changing anything,” she said bitterly.

  “Well, that’s the thing,” I said slowly. “Peyton and I talked with Henry about the trial and he’s brought up the possibility of bringing up the judge for recall.”

  “Recall?” she asked, confused. “I don’t get it. What does that mean?”

  “You’ll have to let an attorney explain because I don’t know all the details myself, but what I understand is that if a state judge does a bad job, he or she is subject to removal from their position. It’s called a recall,” I said.

  “I don’t want to go through this again,” Stacey said vehemently. “I just want things to end.”

  My heart went out to her.

  “I know what you’re saying, but Henry’s assured us that a recall is different from a trial. There’s no trial, it just means that Henry will spearhead an attempt to gather signatures for a petition to unseat the judge. If we get enough signatures, then it’ll go up for a vote to the people of New York. If enough people vote yes, then he’ll lose his position as judge.”

  “Is this like the Gray Davis recall?” Stacey asked slowly. “I remember Arnold Schwarzenegger became governor in the middle of someone else’s term.”

  “That’s it exactly,” I nodded. “The people of California were unhappy with Davis’s performance so in the middle of his term, they recalled him. On the same ballot, there was a second question as to who would replace him, and Arnie won.”

  “Oh,” was all Stacey said. But I could tell she was thinking about it.

  “It won’t hurt to meet Henry,” added Peyton persuasively. “He’s a great guy, we almost thought about asking him to be our agent when we went up for the draft, but he was more interested in a legal career,” said my twin. “But we’ve stayed in touch and Henry’s more than happy to talk with you now.”

  My sister was silent. But finally she nodded slowly.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll meet with him and hear what he has to say about this recall stuff. But no promises,” she said. “I don’t know if I can live through the trauma again.”

  “No worries, Sister,” said my twin carefully. “We won’t
let that happen to you.”

  And he was speaking the truth. Because no one could be more important to us now, after everything we’d been through. Supporting our step was paramount to us, her happiness, her joy, was our first priority. We had to make this happen.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Peyton

  It’s hard to explain how we feel about our sister now. Maybe going through something this big, this significant and shitty, brought out our protective sides. God knows, Pax and I have never exactly been caring guys before, we were more “one and done” types when it came to girls.

  But Stacey’s won us over with her resilience, her ability to survive, seeking productive outlets for her rage, finding the silver lining in a tough time.

  I’m not saying the situation’s great because the truth is that it can never be “good” per se. What happened to her is a clear breach of privacy and it’ll be a long time before she’s able to lose that wall of defensiveness, stop looking over her shoulder, flinching whenever someone takes her picture unexpectedly.

  But Stacey’s back on the job reporting at NFL games, and we see her from the field, her blonde ponytail peppy, staring down the camera fiercely.

  And our hearts go out to her, Pax and me both. Our sister is incredible with what she’s overcome, and we make sure she knows it.

  “You were amazing today,” I complimented once we were all back at the house. Our travel schedules are insane, so we look forward to the times when we’re home, able to relax and enjoy each other’s company.

  “You think?” she asked coyly. “I thought you looked a little jealous when I interviewed McBrown Knight.”

  Oh yeah, McBrown, the hottest thing to hit the NFL since sliced bread. The rookie was so big in the head, he needed to get knocked around a little stet.

  But what made us really happy was her saucy demeanor, the way she looked at us with spark in her voice, her face open, smiling, her shoulders straight, her frame with a little more weight on it now.

  “McBrown making you jealous?” she teased, slinging a leg over my own.

  And I growled at the sight of that slim thigh on top of my massive one. Both Pax and I are heavily built … everywhere, and it was time to show the girl who was in charge.

  “Stacey,” I said with a note of warning in my voice. “Be careful,” I said, my stare hungry.

  “I wasn’t flirting with him,” she tossed-off, winking at me. “McBrown is just soooo cute, you know? Maybe I should invite him to the Donkey.”

  And that made us laugh because McBrown was actually perfect for the club. He was an oaf, seven feet tall, about three hundred pounds with straw-like hair and a gigantic stomach. But hey, overgrown farm boys find the Donkey just like home, he’d fit right in.

  “You still dancing at the Donkey?” my brother asked casually.

  “Yeah, sometimes,” she admitted. “It’s the place where I get release, you know? Where I’m someone else for a little while, I can let loose and let my wild side show.”

  “Well honey, you’re a public figure now,” I said carefully. “If you weren’t already before, then you really are now with the trial and the recall. You sure people aren’t recognizing you up on stage?” I was worried. Ever since the decision came down, and there were pictures of our sister in the regular news, not just the sports channels.

  But the girl smiled at us.

  “I hear you, I get it,” she replied. “Don’t worry, I’m not that silly. I’ve been using a mask to cover my face recently, it’s a net with a hole for my mouth. I call myself ‘Enchantress Inga.’ You like?” she teased.

  And I have to admit, we were titillated. The thought of our girl going up there, dancing nude with only her ruby red lips showing was a turn-on, we wanted to see that show, oh yeah.

  But we were serious.

  “Stacey, we’re concerned about you,” growled Pax. “Are you sure no one knows that you’re Enchantress Inga? Because we’re fighting the good fight, Henry’s close to getting enough signatures to get Judge Martin recalled and we don’t want it to go to waste.”

  And that made the blonde sit up, look somber.

  “That’s the thing,” she said slowly. “I’ve been thinking, is it too late to stop this recall stuff?”

  “What do you mean?” I asked. “Henry’s already gotten over fifty thousand signatures, there’s a lot of outrage over the sentence.”

  “I know,” she replied seriously. “It’s just that it seems really harsh for a judge to lose his job over something like this.”

  I could hardly believe what I was hearing.

  “Really?” I asked, eyebrow arched. “But aren’t you pissed about the sentence?” Pax looked just as confused. What was going on?

  Our sister nodded.

  “I’ve been reading and studying,” she replied. “State court judges, like all judges, need judicial independence. That means that they have to be able to examine the facts without fear of losing their job.”

  “Well Martin effed up,” Pax grunted. “He’s not doing his job because the defendants got peanuts for punishment.”

  “I know what you’re saying,” replied Stacey. “I want Lester to pay more than anyone. But it’s a question of process. Judges need to be able to judge without worrying about a popularity contest. It’s why many judgeships are life-time appointments. They shouldn’t lose their job because of unpopular decisions in specific cases.”

  This made us pause. We’ve always known that our sister had the smarts but had no idea that she was this sharp. All this stuff about judicial independence and recalls, it made my head hurt, I’d simply been going with my gut, enraged about the situation.

  But she continued, sharp as tacks.

  “From what I’ve gathered, the judge did his job,” she said slowly. “He didn’t abuse his legal authority, he reviewed the facts of the case and the recommendation from the probation authority. Taking those into account, he used his discretion. Given all that, I don’t want to upend the judicial system. Not on my behalf.”

  “Sister, you know what you’re saying right?” I said seriously. “You’re saying you’re okay with the sentence?”

  “It’s not that I’m okay with it,” she replied slowly. “It’s that there’s a wider world beyond just me. There’s an entire system at issue, and I guess I’m not ready to be the straw that breaks the camel’s back.”

  My brother and I looked at each other. This girl was amazing. She wasn’t hung up on herself at all, even as the victim of a heinous crime. Instead, she was able to look beyond herself, think about the future, about others, how her actions could seriously weaken the status quo.

  We were astonished, elated, and more than a little in awe. Because behind the bouncy blonde exterior, behind the sports-girl persona, there was also a woman with empathy for others – even ones who had hurt her. She was able to look objectively at a situation and understand that sometimes there’s a bigger goal to achieve. Stacey was balanced, process-driven, with incredible compassion for others.

  “Sister,” I said seriously. “If you want to call off the recall, I’ll let Henry know immediately.”

  “Let me think about it some more,” she said slowly. “Just give me another week.”

  And I nodded. It was bad to jump into anything at this point.

  “I have an idea,” suggested Pax. “Henry’s still nowhere near the number of signatures needed for a successful recall. Why don’t we let it ride for another week or two and see what happens? Maybe it won’t even be an issue.”

  That was true, and I nodded. Sometimes the best action is to wait and see, don’t rock the boat any more than you have to on already turbulent waters.

  “Okay,” said Stacey, her mind made up, her chin firm. “Let’s go with that then.”

  And we looked on with wonder. Our sister, the victim, who more than anyone should have been screaming with rage, beating her chest, tearing her hair out, instead was proving to be a smart cookie. More than that, a cool cat, someone w
ho handled pressure well, who’d fought off her demons and was back on the beat, which made us love her even more.

  I looked at my twin and he nodded. We were in the same boat. We wanted this girl … for keeps.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Stacey

  Life is sometimes crazy, you know? Pax, Peyton and I were thrown together unexpectedly, step-siblings one second, and then forced to walk through hell together. Or I should say I was forced to walk through hell, they came along for the ride.

  And I appreciate it because my steps didn’t have to. They could have ignored me, brushed me off as some girl they barely knew. But they didn’t. They stuck by my side, a steady hand on the wheel when I needed it most, the star by which to sail my ship.

  And I feel like that’s what relationships are about, hanging through the thick and thin, when things look bad your SO is someone that’s there for you. I’d had serious doubts about that before. Actually, take that back, even worse. I thought they were heartless bastards, nowhere even in SO territory.

  So it’s amazing that things have done a one eighty now. Yep, you guessed it. I’m now standing in a white dress with my groom waiting, best man at his side.

  I’m getting married, can you believe it? After all the trauma, the roller-coaster, the agony, I’m now here on the best day of my life, about to tie the knot with Peyton, Pax as our best man.

  It was amazing, the proposal. We’d just finished another hot session, my limbs entangled with theirs in the sheets, our skin hot and flushed, our breathing still coming fast and hard.

  “Brothers,” I heaved, smiling at my twin lovers, taking their hands. “That was incredible, I loved it.”

  And they smiled back, growling their pleasure, taking in my ample curves, the blonde hair spread on the pillow.

  “Stacey,” Pax growled. “We have something for you.”

  And I figured I knew what it was. We’d been talking about going to Tahiti during the off-season, take some time off when things weren’t busy. The beach would be amazing, palm fronds waving in the air, a cool tropical drink in my hand, my lovers by my side.