Wicked Knight

by Tierney O'Malley

  Mother and son were waiting in the living room. Marla was sitting with her legs crossed, a cigarette in between her fingers. On her lap was a white long tube, the kind draftsmen used to keep their blueprints inside.

  Sebastian cradled a white bag with a Dunkin Donuts logo on the front. While looking at him with a nasty smirk on his face, Sebastian's meaty hand went in the bag and took out two donut holes. He popped them into his mouth, then the hand went back inside the bag again. Tristan wondered if he could beat Gawain in a hotdog-eating contest. He bet it would be a neck and neck race.

  Teta was right. The man looked ready to jump overboard, with his potbelly for a lifesaver. The two looked up when Tristan, hand-in-hand with Julie, came down the long stairway. Tristan squeezed Julie's hand. “They look like normal people to me,” he whispered, trying to relieve Julie from nervousness.

  “Just wait. They can transform into rapid rats before your eyes. Believe you me.”

  True enough, Marla's nose flared and her eyes glinted with malice. Not bothering to look for an ashtray, she jabbed her cigarette butt on the glass coffee table and stood up so fast it was as if someone poked her ass with a needle. Sebastian followed, chewing with his mouth open.

  “Finally came out of hiding to show the world that you're not what you want us to think you are?” Marla said with derision.

  “Hello, Marla. What brought your here?” Julie asked without wavering.

  “Oh, got fangs now, do you? Is it because of hotshot here?”

  “Who the hell are you?” Sebastian asked, still chewing with his mouth open.

  Tristan avoided looking at his masticated donuts.

  “This is Dr. Tristan Knight, my fiance. Tristan, this is my stepmother, and her son, Sebastian.”

  Tristan saw Marla's shock reaction, but it was brief. Sebastian concerned Tristan most. The man's color turned into a fried lobster. He was afraid he would keel over. If he suddenly had a heart attack, Tristan would call 911, but would not perform CPR. He flexed his muscles. He didn't like the two, not even a bit.

  “Nice to meet you both.”

  “Fiance? Since when did you start dating real men? A week ago, you were in a gay bar with your girlfriend and few weeks before that you played bingo with your bassoon for a housekeeper. No man was around, so how did you manage to get engaged? Unless he's only a man who sees you to scratch your itch. And not really your fiance.”

  He'd give it to her—Marla was smart. Tristan thought it was time to step in.

  “Marla, would you like to sit back down? We can talk about this like civilized people. You're probably not happy about being out of the loop about Julie's recent engagement. Which I understand, you, after all, are her stepmother.”

  Marla eyed him from head to foot before she went back to sit on the sofa. She searched her purse for a smoke.

  “If you're thinking about smoking again, please don't. Second hand smoke is a killer.”

  Marla smirked. “Why, is she pregnant? I know she's a whore pretending to be a virgin.”

  “Watch your tongue, ma'am.”

  “Whatever,” Marla said sardonically.

  “Julie, should I bring out snacks? Looks like your stepbrother is deflating. He needs more food. Oh, I have a better idea. Why don't I serve them bullets?”

  Everyone's gaze pointed at Teta. She was holding Cinnamon's collar, trying to stop the dog from running. Cinnamon could smell the bag of donuts on Sebastian's lap. Tristan wished Teta would let the dog go.

  “You. Why don't you go back to the Amazon forest?”

  “I will, but not without your baboon for a son. His kind misses him so much.”

  “Fuck you, hag!”

  Teta huffed then let go of Cinnamon's leash. Cinnamon's paws slipped on the marble floor in her haste to run. Sebastian thought it funny, but stopped laughing when he realized the dog was running toward him.

  “Stop that dog!” Sebastian yelled.

  To Tristan's dismay, Julie grabbed Cinnamon's leash.

  “I hate that dog!”

  “And I hate both of you.” Teta reached in her purse with a glint in her eyes. No doubt she was happy to find the opportunity to use her Remington. “Let see what's in that ugly head of yours. I bet it's empty. Just as this bitch's chest is. No heart, no soul.”

  “Teta, no.” As much as he wanted to see Sebastian's thick, big head explode, he didn't want his brains on Julie's couch and floor. Besides, he wasn't worth a bullet—if Teta indeed put bullets in her gun's chambers.

  “Can't believe you're letting your housekeeper talk to us this way.”

  “What way, Marla? Like you two are unsightly scabs?”

  “Fuck you and your beehive hair.”

  Before Sebastian even blinked, Cinnamon lunged on Sebastian's lap and grabbed the bag with her mouth. Based on Sebastian's howl, Cinnamon must have nipped his crotch.

  “Take your blasted dog out!” yelled Marla. “And stop your howling, Sebastian. You idiot.”

  “Teta, please take Cinnamon out.”

  “Are you sure you don't want me to use my Remington with these two? I'm sure I'll do this country a favor if I get rid of two more scabs. God knows we have lots of them around.”

  “I'm sure, Teta. Thank you.”

  Teta harrumphed, placed her two fingers inside her mouth, and let out a high-pitched sound. The sound bounced around the walls and hit Tristan's ear. Cinnamon went to Julie's side and wagged her tail.

  “Go to Teta, Cinnamon. Good girl.”

  “One word, Julie, and I'll pump my bullets on these two. Come on, dog.”

  As soon as Cinnamon and Teta were out the door, Julie faced Marla. “Why are you here, Marla?”

  Her voice didn't shake, but Tristan knew she wasn't as composed as she let on. Julie gripped his hand as if it were her lifeline.

  “You know why I'm here. It is time for you to pack up and leave.”

  “That'll never happen. You have nothing against me.”

  “Oh, yes, I do. Your mother—as feeble as she was—was right about adding the stipulation in her will. Because you cannot be trusted, cannot behave, and were born to disgrace your family's name. Right now, I have the strongest proof that you are what I thought you were the moment I met you. A whore. You'd better give it up and leave, Julie. Or do you want this to go to court?”

  “No.”

  Tristan could feel Julie's body tremble beside him. He hoped she wouldn't crumble. He squeezed her hand to remind her that he was there to help. Un-fucking-believable. He could not believe he'd actually meet the fucking bitch in person. The woman was as greedy as Cruella Deville, mean as Cinderella's stepmother. And Julie fended her off all by herself for years.

  “Well, then, I have a prewritten form you need to sign.”

  “What form?”

  “Form that says you broke the condition. Sebastian,” Marla snapped her fingers. “Show your stepsister the pen and form. Come on!”

  Sebastian grinned, showing his crooked teeth. He opened his black leather briefcase, took out a white sheet of paper and shook it in the air. “We finally got you.”

  Tristan took a step forward. “Hand me the paper, Sebastian.”

  “Why? You're not part of this.”

  “Oh, yes I am. And if you don't give me that paper, my fist will leave an imprint on your face.”

  Sebastian blanched. He practically threw the paper at Tristan.

  “Ha! This intimidation will go to court also, Julie. I say you tell your Rottweiler here to back off.”

  “Tristan, please...” Julie's voice was barely a whisper but he heard her.

  Glancing back at Julie, he gave her a reassuring smile. “Julie will sign the form.” Behind her Julie let out what sounded like a gasp and whimper. Patience, Tristan thought. A good stratagem was all he needed to trap the snake in its own pit. “But first, we need to see your proof that she indeed has broken the condition.”

  “It's a waste of time, if you ask me. Just let her sign the paper to save he
r from further embarrassment. This is what I've been trying to tell her lawyer. She's such a bad girl, her own mother created her daughter's invisible noose. Imagine that.”

  “Show us your proof, Marla.”

  “This is the reason.” Marla pulled a picture out of her purse and threw it on the table.

  Tristan picked it up and did a double take. Seeing Julie's naked body in the bedroom was un-fucking-believable. He stared at the glossy picture. It was Julie, all right, lying on a plush sofa, as naked as the day she was born.

  She looked beautiful. Her hair pinned up and tied with a blue ribbon. The style gave her a look of princess. She was coiling a lock of hair around her finger while her other hand was flat on her midriff. Her left leg was bent and leaning against the couch while the other leg...dangling with her toes barely touching the floor. The position provided a great view of her exquisite body, luscious breasts and pussy. The picture was so clear he could see her clitoris.

  Good God! Fucking Sebastian must have looked at this picture a million times. He'd bet his medical license the dirty slime ball masturbated while staring at Julie's nudity.

  “Where did you get this?”

  “Someone gave it to me.”

  Julie's loud breath intake took his eyes away from the picture. “Oh my God, that's me,” she whimpered, covering her mouth with her hand.

  “Got that right, bitch. See? She admitted it was her.” A cackle as loud as if she finally found a deadly potion erupted from Marla's mouth.

  Peering closely at the picture, he could feel his heart ready to explode. Whoever did this to Julie would pay. “Julie?”

  “Tristan, I...I remem—” her voice broke in mid-sentence.

  “Julie, relax.”

  “No! This is wrong. I would never do anything like that.” She took a step back, shaking her head in disbelief.

  “Yeah, right. Here is the proof. How can you deny this?”

  “I don't know where you got this picture, Marla, but that's not me. Tristan, I remember posing like this for Gap, but not naked. I swear.”

  “You couldn't remember? Why? Were you on drugs or drunk when you posed?”

  “I don't do drugs and I've gotten drunk only one time.”

  “Whore! Men probably took turns having sex with you.”

  “Marla, do not talk to—”

  The door opened. Teta's head peaked in. “There's a Smith here. He said he's the shark representing the bloodsuckers.”

  “He's my lawyer. Send him in.”

  Teta's face turned bright red. No doubt wishing she could blast Marla with her Remington.

  “Thanks, Teta.”

  Tristan wanted to wipe the victory smile off Marla's face, but this wasn't the time. At least not yet. “Smith's your lawyer?”

  “Of course. Oh, we told Weatherholt to come, too. He needs to see this. You know what? This time that old lawyer of Laura won't be able to defend you now.”

  “Do not speak my mother's name, Marla. Mom may be dead, but she wasn't your equal.”

  “What-eveeerr.”

  “I should have told you this long time ago, Marla.”

  “What?” Marla snapped.

  “You are one ugly bitch.”

  “Well, this bitch will kick you out of this house with nothing but that shirt you're wearing.”

  * * * *

  Whatever Julie wanted to say was interrupted by Smith's greeting. Smith flashed her a smile, then he stood beside Marla. Julie noticed the mustached lawyer silently appraising her home. Teta was right. This man was a shark. His brown hair, the same shade as mud, was perfectly combed. The tasseled black shoes he wore shone like his black as coal, piercing, untrusting eyes. The man didn't smile, but sneered. He reminded Julie of a viper waiting to strike and devour his unsuspecting victim. Instant dislike grew quick inside her chest.

  There was no need to know the man. Just one look at him and she knew he and Marla were alike. Both were greedy, nasty, and evil.

  She wanted to kick Marla and Sebastian out of her house, including the shark. Deep inside she knew the picture was a fake. She would never pose naked for anyone, not even for a million dollars. But how did Marla get it? What about the headshot? Was it one of those shots the Gap photographer took that didn't make it in the magazine? Marla planned all of this. She held the ace or she thought she did. But she'd get to the bottom of this. Never in this lifetime would she let these sleaze balls get near her mother's fortune.

  Think. Think.

  Weatherholt arrived five minutes after Smith. Julie gave Weatherholt a reassuring smile. Although she thought, it should be the other way around. He, after all, was her attorney. Her mother's old friend wiped his forehead. Lord, he is nervous.

  “Excuse us.” Tristan grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the kitchen.

  Julie had to run to keep up with Tristan. Otherwise, he'd end up dragging her. “Tristan, what are you doing?”

  In the kitchen, he surprised her by cupping her face for a quick kiss. “Be strong, baby. Before the day is over, this whole thing will be over. I promise.” With both his hands on her hips, he lifted her up and sat her on the kitchen counter. “You need to eat. If you want to face these monsters, you have to have something in your stomach. Sit there.”

  “What about them?”

  Tristan scoffed. “Do they look like they're starving? Let them wait. Let Marla squirm.”

  “Do you believe me?”

  “I believe you, love.” He kissed her again, then went on to preparing Bologna sandwiches. He placed a can of Diet Coke in her hand. “Eat and drink. This will be a long fight, love.”

  “What about you?”

  Tristan opened her legs and stood in between. He wrapped his arms around her waist, staring at her intensely. “As long as you're strong, I will be, too. Eat. I need to make a phone call.”

  Julie ate her food, half-listening to Tristan, and half-listening to the murmurs coming from Marla, Sebastian, and Smith. Weatherholt was quiet. Only the breadcrumbs were left on her plate when the doorbell rang.

  “Stay here, love. I'll see who it is.”

  Good God, her doorbell hardly rang. Who could it be this time? Crotcher?

  She was wrong.

  Bors and Gawain walked in the kitchen like two models walking on a ramp, but with the swagger of cowboys. Both brothers wore faded jeans that hugged their lean waists and long legs. All four brothers were partial to boots. While Gawain wore brown, Bors’ were black. She thought the only things missing on the brothers’ ensemble were gun belts, and they'd be the cowboys she imagined for her next book. Seeing the brothers in the house was like having reinforcement, more ammo to beat Marla. Although she didn't know exactly how the brothers would help her cause.

  She sighed—she couldn't help it—when both brothers smiled.

  “Hey there. We heard you're in some kind of trouble. Are you okay?” Gawain reached her first. Just as Tristan did earlier, he walked in between her legs and gave her a tight squeeze.

  “I'm all right, Gawain.” She felt him kiss the top of her head. He didn't release her right away. The simple gesture touched her deeply where she wanted to cry.

  Gawain mumbled something about kicking asses and come to us before he let go of her. As soon as he stepped back, Bors took his turn. He touched her cheek with his big hand, shaking his head. “Girl, didn't we love you enough? You know you're one of us, right?”

  Gosh, did she hurt their feelings by hiding the truth from them and their family? A big lump suddenly appeared in her throat, making it hard to breathe. Afraid she'd cry all over him, she nodded.

  “Good. Next time, you come to us. This isn't just your fight, Julie. And whether you are married to Tristan or not, you will remain a part of our family. We love you that much.”

  “Thank you,” Julie whispered.

  Like Gawain, Bors kissed the top of her head and whispered in her ear. “But my brother loves you more in a different way.”

  “I don't think so.” God, I hope y
ou are right, Bors.

  Bors kept his hands around Julie. “Is he looking?”

  Julie peeked around Bors’ arm and almost gasped at the intensity of Tristan's gaze. He looked like a bull seeing red, ready to charge anyone, anything. “He's looking and he looks ready to kill.”

  “See what I mean? Maybe he hasn't realized he loves you, but we know. We've known a long time now. That's why Kirsten went to him to ask for help.” Bors let go of her and leaned against the counter. “Gawain and I will stand witness. Dad, Mom and Kirsten are only a few minutes late. Percival won't make it, but he sends his congratulations.”

  Julie took a minute to digest what Bors just said. The Knight family suspected Tristan was in love with her. She glanced at Tristan, whose gaze was still fixed on her face. Her heart began beating against her ribs, making it impossible to hear her own thoughts. Did Bors say that except for Percival, the whole Knight family was coming to witness her wedding with Tristan? “Why?”

  “Dad will officiate. Kirsten will kill us if we don't wait for her, Mom stomped her foot and said she didn't want to be left behind.”

  “Your mom stomped her foot?”

  “Uh-huh. Now what are we going to do about those three? Tell me if you want me to break the son of a bitch's neck, throw Marla out to the Sound, and I'll do it.”

  “We'll do this clean and right, Bors. Believe me, all I am thinking right now is to shove all of them in the garbage compactor, but that's not how they will go down,” Tristan said. His tone was low and even, but anger was evident in his eyes. His left eyelid was visibly twitching and he stood as if he was ready to draw.

  Cinnamon's nails clicked on the floor, interrupting them. Teta followed. Her lips were drawn tight and she was clutching her purse. “How long are they going to be here? I don't want them contaminating this house with their diseases. Weatherholt looks like he took a dive in the pool with his sweat. Good Lord. What is this? A convention of tall, dark, and handsome men?”

  “Oh, I like her.” Gawain grinned at Teta.

  “Teta, this is Gawain and Bors. They're Tristan's brothers.”

  “Only a blind person wouldn't see that they're all related. So what did your mom do? Offer a goat to God so she could have perfect sons?”