by Ora Wilde
“And he should have that title fight!” my father screamed in agreement. “He has worked so hard for that title fight! He’ll kick Jones’ ass. That kid’s a punk!”
“I understand your contempt, Sir,” Danny tried to pacify him. “Everyone hates Johnny Jones. He’s a trash talking mofo, and no one wants him as champ. Unfortunately, though, at this point, everyone hates your son even more.”
My father just clicked his tongue.
“I don’t care about what people say,” I joined their conversation as I sat on the couch without waiting for anyone’s permission. “I just want that damn title fight.”
Danny ordered the cameramen to stop filming.
“Mr. McXavier, Conner needs this documentary,” he explained. “We want to portray him as a real person... someone who isn’t just a lean, mean, killing... errrr... forget that last adjective... I mean... he’s more than just a ferocious fighter. We want the whole world to know that he’s just as real and as human as each and every one of them.”
“And this... documentary... will be able to do that?” my father asked, his tone was still filled with doubt.
“Yes!” Danny resoundingly confirmed. “With this documentary, they’ll know the real Conner... the Conner who has a soft heart for his home and his family...”
“Eh?” my father got lost when he heard the words home and family.
“I understand your wariness, Sir, but trust me,” Danny invited him, “we will do everything that we can to portray Conner ‘The Savior’ McXavier as just a regular Joe who happens to be so passionate about this sport. I don’t care if we have to choose the footages we will use, or to edit some of the things we will capture, or to dub over some of the conversations that we won’t deem helpful, or even hire some actors and actresses to fabricate particular scenes for the docu. I promise you, Sir, we will make America, and the entire world, see Conner as a good person who truly is deserving of the XFC middleweight championship.”
My father started to nod in agreement.
Then I heard a voice... another familiar voice... a female’s voice... coming from the entrance. The cameramen turned on their machines and pointed their lenses towards the direction from where the voice emanated.
“Mom! I’m home!” she said. “Oh... we have guests...”
“Honey, we’re here at the living room,” my father’s wife replied.
“Mom! Uncle Benny! You wouldn’t believe who’s in Susanville!” the female voice continued.
She stopped as she saw me.
I looked at her more intently, and...
Oh fucking hell...
“You!” she cried in anger.
I just shrugged.
“You’re the asshole who blamed me for that accident!” she continued to scream. “You’re the prick who angrily approached my car and wanted to beat me up! And you’re my damn... stepbrother?”
From the corner of my eye, I saw Danny cover his face in horror.
“Oh my God, Conner,” he mumbled behind his palms. “What a fucking great way to start your redemption!”
Chapter Six
MEG
“Thank you.”
It was a callous remark, but at least it sounded honest. I guessed, for someone like him, a show of appreciation like that would’ve been very, very hard to digest. Yet, he did thank me.
“I just told them the truth,” I replied.
The documentary crew has left us for the evening. They were bunked in a motel at the outskirt of town along Highway 45, they said. They would be staying there every night during the shoot.
So there we sat, around a dining table that has, for so long, been used to three people. There were only three seats there. I had to get the plastic chair from the porch just to accommodate our visitor.
A quiet family dinner.
Only, it wouldn’t be that quiet for long.
As soon as me and my newly acquainted stepbrother met, I told the documentary crew the whole story: that this Conner was angry at first but he was quick to calm down, that he offered to pay for the damage, that he was a perfect gentleman after an initial display of rage.
And now, four hours since I narrated the truth and an hour since those people left, he was able to muster enough humility to thank me.
Better late than never, I guessed.
“Will you be staying with us for the night?” my mother asked him as he passed the bowl of roast beef stew.
“That is the plan, yes,” he coldly replied.
“Good, good... we have an extra room upstairs,” my mom offered.
“No, no... I’m perfectly fine on the couch,” he said, still with a rather chilly tone.
“Nonsense!” she argued. “You will take the guest room upstairs. Meg will help you bring your bags there after dinner, and she will help you unpack.”
“What?!” I responded incredulously. “Me? Why me?”
The new man in the house didn’t even thank my mother. He just continued fiddling with his fork as he span its edges on the piece of meat on the plate. Wasn’t he hungry? Was he a vegetarian? Or was he simply not in the mood to enjoy dinner?
I stole a few glances and noticed that he really was an attractive guy. A strong jaw that just screamed virility. A perfectly angled nose that, surprisingly, didn’t show any signs of ever being broken. His face didn’t show any trace that he just came from an MMA fight a couple of nights ago.
I never watched any of his matches, but based on my stepfather’s reaction whenever he viewed his fights, this Conner guy was good.
And he knew it.
He moved with the cockiness of a rock star, the awkward grace of a gladiator from days of yore, and the inelegance of a man who reveled at the prospect of trouble.
His undercut-styled hair, braided on the sides. His beard that grew around two inches long. His eyes - small, dreamy and brooding. His lips, thin and red and always straight.
His face... it was unmistakable.
How could I have not recognized him immediately?
I always wanted to punch myself whenever I was reminded of that failing.
Then he turned to face me.
Oh shit!
He caught me looking at him!
“Problem?” he asked rather rudely.
“Huh? What’re you talking about?” I replied, feigning innocence.
“You’ve been staring at me,” he said, loud enough for everyone in the table to hear. That bastard!
“I wasn’t!” I lied. “I was looking at the... the... the clock behind you.”
He turned around to see what I was referring to: a grandfather clock stationed at the side of the door leading to the living room.
“That old shit?” he uttered. “I can barely see the hands from where I am, and you’re farther than me.”
“Well...”
Think, Margaret, think!
“Well... I wasn’t trying to determine the time. I was just... admiring it.”
Stupid!
“Bull fucking shit!” he responded with a snide grin. “You think I’d believe a crappy reason like that? You were fucking staring at me and you know it!”
“Conner...” Uncle Benny suddenly called his attention. “That kind of language... we do not allow it in this household.”
“Ohhhhh....” he reacted with a deprecating slur. “One of your rules again, huh? Like the many, many rules you imposed on me when I was a kid. Rules that you said were necessary.”
“They were,” Uncle Benny answered without even looking at him. He continued to cut the slice of beef with his knife.
“Were they now?” Conner asked. “Or were they just reasons for you to relive your glory days?”
I was beyond startled by what just transpired. Sure, he may have caught me looking at him and he reacted in an unrefined and ungentlemanly manner... but the speed by which things escalated... the sudden change in his mood as well as my stepdad’s... the rekindled animosity between them that they may have tried to repress since they met earlier
that day... they were just paralyzingly shocking.
Relive your glory days?
Uncle Benny used to be a boxer. I guessed his years as a prizefighter were his glory days. And boxers box... they dance around the ring and... punch...
Oh my God...
Uncle Benny suddenly slammed his utensils on the table. He didn’t speak a word. He just stood up and started to leave. My mother tried to stop him by gently holding his hand. But Uncle Benny just yanked it away from her grasp.
“Oh, that’s just fucking swell,” Conner ridiculed him. “I remind you of the fun times we had while I was growing up, and you do something that you did a long time ago... walk away. So walk the fuck away! I don’t fucking care! I’m used to it!”
Silence enveloped the dining table as soon as my stepfather disappeared from our sight. Conner just sat there, tapping his fingers on the surface, making a sound that I would’ve otherwise found irritating if I wasn’t worried about everyone’s emotional state. My mom clasped her hands. Her head was bowed down as if she was praying. She knew she had to say something to salvage the situation. But I knew, just by looking at her, that she didn’t know what to say.
There was no point continuing with dinner. Everyone has lost their appetite.
“Come,” I spoke as I looked at Conner, “let’s get your things sorted out.”
“Thank God!” he quickly responded as he stood up and proceeded to the living room where his things were stationed. He walked way ahead of me.
He didn’t bring a lot of things with him, just two backpacks. I offered to carry one of them but he refused. So I just led him upstairs.
As I ascended the flight of stairs, I asked him a question, just to ease whatever tension was left from the episode a few minutes ago.
“How do you find Susanville so far?”
He didn’t answer.
I turned my head to look at him. His gaze wasn’t focused on where he was going. Instead, he was staring at my back... or, to be more precise... the bottom part of my back.
“What are you looking at?” I questioned.
He jerked his head upwards with the clear intention of pretending that he wasn’t doing what I thought he was doing. He had an excuse ready. I just knew it. He was that kind of a guy... callous, rude and lecherous.
“You have a nice ass,” he said, with brutal candidness and a satirical smile.
My eyes widened in shock. I didn’t expect him to be that honest.
I hastened my pace until I reached the second floor.
I guided him towards the second room of the hallway. I opened the door and showed him the interior. White sheets. White blinds. White wallpaper. White everything, except for the study desk that was adorned with wooden laminate.
“This will be your room,” I told him.
“It looks like a damn hospital ward,” he said as his eyes circled the area.
“Sorry. Too much whiteness, huh? I’m sure we can fix that.”
He sniffed loudly.
“Smells like the morgue,” he sardonically stated.
“You’re exaggerating. I know it’s quite stuffy in here. This room is rarely used.”
“I don’t really care about the room,” he declared. “I’m interested in something more important.”
“What’s that?”
“Where’s your room?” he asked, as he rested the side of his body on the door frame. He gave me a knowing smile.
I gulped.
“I-It’s right over there,” I pointed at the first room near the staircase.
“Oh... just beside mine?”
“I guess so...”
“You guess so?”
“I mean...” Shit! I hate it when I get rattled and lose control over the things I say. “Yes... just beside this one.”
A lewd grin formed on his face.
“That’s good,” he uttered.
“What do you mean?”
“Only a wall would separate us.”
“And?”
“I don’t think that would be enough...”
He laughed as he went inside, closing the door behind him, leaving me shocked and petrified... thinking about what kind of horrors he was pertaining to.
Chapter Seven
CONNER
“You look like a cartoon character, Mister...”
If there’s one thing I hate more than kids... it’s the things that they say.
There I stood, inside a classroom, dwarfing over a girl who barely reached my knee. If she was a midget, I would’ve punted her like a football for that ridiculous comment. I kept reminding myself that she was just a child... just a child... but then, she said another thing that made me blow my fuse once more.
“Do you have peeh-neez?”
What the fuck?!
The cameras were rolling, recording every gesture I made, every facial reaction I showed. I wanted to yell at her... to scare her so that she’d have nightmares about me... but I was on film, and I needed to be at my best behavior to get that damn title shot.
“She meant pennies,” Margaret said from behind me. “It’s an... inside joke amongst us.”
I looked at my stepsister - a term I still couldn’t fully accept - then I turned my gaze back at the pipsqueak in front of me. She was extending her hand as if she was begging for some money.
“I don’t have any fu... any pennies,” I told her.
“This little sweetheart is Zoe,” Margaret said as she kneeled beside the punk who was flashing a wide smile, hoping, maybe, that I’d reciprocate his warm attempt to befriend me. I wanted to say that I didn’t care about her name but... well...
I was distracted.
As Margaret dropped on her knees, she unwittingly revealed the opening of her blouse, exposing her cleavage which, as I have discovered, was very, very enticing. For a fraction of a second, my eyes actually opened wide. If the split between her breasts was indicative of the beauty of her bosoms, then I was sure that her pair was just as luscious as her cleavage.
If I were to be honest, though, my stepsister is a very attractive wench. Long, brown hair; skin as smooth as silk and as white as milk; expressive eyes; lips that were pleading to be kissed; and a figure that may not be perfect - short, not skinny, but neither is she plump - Margaret is actually a fuckable prospect.
After a couple of beers.
“Like what you see?” someone asked from the other end of the room.
“Eh?” I responded, turning around to look at source of the male voice that uttered those words.
It was Artemis. He wasn’t able to arrive yesterday, but the shitbagger did send a text informing me that he was coming to town today.
“God! This town is awful!” he yelled. “Awful! Awful! Awful!”
The kids in the room, around two dozens of them, looked at the new visitor who was causing a scene with his loud voice.
“Did you know that Susanville doesn’t even have a hotel?” he continued to say. “There are just two bed and breakfasts here... probably managed by some old couples. Fucking hell will I live with jurassic farts for, what? Two weeks? Three?”
“Sir,” Margaret intervened. “Please watch your language. We’re in a pre-school.”
“Oh?” Artemis responded as if he didn’t have a clue about what she was talking about. Then he realized where he really was. “Oh! Oh... right! I’m sorry about that. Anyway, Conner... your folks... they don’t happen to have an extra room where I can bunk?”
“I dunno,” I answered. “It ain’t my house.”
“Damn!” Artemis said before realizing that he uttered another forbidden word. He put his hand on his mouth and raised the other to apologize to Margaret who was looking at him angrily.
“Is he your daddy?” the kid, Zoe, asked. I don’t know if she was genuinely intrigued or if the squirt was just being mischievous at my fucking expense.
I gave her a dagger look. She retreated behind Margaret. I smirked at the thought that I was able to terrify her like that.
&nbs
p; “Anyway, what’re we doing here?” Artemis asked. “This is a school for, what? Three? Four? Five year olds? Are you supposed to do some social work here? For the sake of the documentary? If so... that’s a stroke of absolute genius!”