Filthy Dirty Laundry Vol. 3

by Kailin Gow

  “But they weren't seeing each other?”

  “What?”

  “My dad. My dad and your mom.” Every time he says it it's like it makes him sick.

  “No – they broke up when I was in high school.”

  “Right.” He keeps on pacing. “So what the hell happened, Sid?”

  “I don't know!” I cry, hoping he'll believe me. “Apparently she came to visit me in California on a whim but I wasn't there so she went to Rodeo Drive and then they ran into each other and I guess they reconnected or something and suddenly there's some guy named Paul marrying them in an Elvis costume, and I don't even...”

  “This. Is. Rich.” Philip rolls his eyes. “Even for Alan. Even for my father. Sure, we're not close – he's big on the Distant Dad thing when it comes to his children, but you'd think he'd let us know. Send us an invite.”

  “I don't think they planned this, Philip. I think it was just one of those spur of the moment things.”

  “Well, they can fuck all their spur of the moment things,” Philip growls. He almost looks dangerous as he paces. He runs his fingers through his hairs. “I just don't get it. I mean – this is what your mom does, now?”

  “It's not like that.” I feel embarrassed as I try to explain. “My mom's eccentric. But she has a good heart. She might be impulsive, but she always really loved your father. I think if circumstances hadn't been so hard with the divorce and the separation...I don't know. They were really happy together. But this – I admit, it's a huge step for someone like her. For anyone, really. You'd think she'd tell me, too.”

  “I guess I can understand it,” Philip says, sighing deeply. He sounds a little calmer now. His breathing and heart rate have returned to normal. “I mean, I guess my mom and sister didn't exactly make it easy for you guys. That divorce – Jeez, it was messy. Hard on the whole family. I was out of the country for most of it and I still felt the ripples, the waves, all the way in England. It was a fucking hurricane, that situation. And I don't blame anyone for wanting to avoid all the hassle the second time around. Getting to follow their hearts without the baggage a formal engagement might bring.” He puts his head in his hands. “I guess I'm proud of the old man, in a way. My dad is very formal, businesslike. Doesn't listen to his heart a lot. And I guess now he gets to be with the woman he loves.”

  “You're not mad?”

  “Why should I be mad?”

  “That my mom broke your parents up?”

  “Oh please,” Philip rolls his eyes. “My mom and dad had the unhappiest marriage I've ever seen. They hated each other. Made each other miserable for years. The best thing they ever did for each other was divorce. Their only chance at happiness is apart. I love them both in very different ways, but even I recognize that. I wish Kendall could have, too. But she was younger, more emotional. It was always hard for her. It's just...you and me.”

  “I know...” I say. I sigh deeply, sitting down next to Philip on the bed. “I mean, I'm happy for my mom. I love her. Of course I want her to be happy – as happy as she can be. And I always liked Alan and thought of him as kind of a father figure, when I knew him. He was good for her. But it's just so weird, Philip. I mean, you and I, we're only just...” Just what, I wonder? Fucking? Fooling around? Engaging in this weird quasi-non-relationship without a clue about what we're actually doing?

  “I know...” says Philip. “This is hard, really hard.”

  I wish I had something to say that would make all of this easier. That would reconcile all the different things I'm feeling, make all my obligations clear. I love my mother, of course, and I want her to be happy. I could never dream of standing in her way, especially for a fling. A fling that might not last with a man who might not even be reliable. With a playboy who could break my heart in a moment.

  “It's so complicated, Philip,” I say. “My mom, she's the most important person in my life. I don't want to ruin it for her. She's been so unhappy for so long and now she finally has this good, reliable, stable influence in her life. And she was so protective of me...it took its toll on her. Sometimes I think she and Alan, the reason they didn't work out, was because of me...”

  “How could you think that?” Philip's brows knit close together in concern. “I'm sure they were both so proud to have you in their lives.”

  “But Kendall....” I take a deep breath. “You know how it was, Philip. The two of us. We didn't get on. And it was tearing up Kendall. And even my mom could see that. And she's a good person. She didn't want to wreck a child's life. If Kendall didn't want the two of them together, my mom wasn't going to force her way into a family's life. And that was my fault.”

  “That was Kendall's fault,” says Philip sharply. “And my mother's for poisoning that particular well.” I've never heard him talk about his mother before in that way. I'm surprised at the vitriol in his tone. “Not yours. Don't let me ever hear you say that again, Sidney.”

  “I just don't want to hold her back ever again, Philip. I've done enough of that in my life. I don't want to do anything that would spoil her happiness. She is my mom, after all.”

  “What are you saying, Sidney?” Philip shoots me a warning glare.

  “I mean – I don't know what this means, yet. For us. For what we're doing. Whatever it is that we're doing. Our parents only just got married – I mean, we're step-siblings, Philip.”

  “I noticed,” he says gruffly.

  “How are we going to make this work? Already we have so much working against us – so much we have to keep silent about. How are we supposed to be together now? You're my boss, my stepsibling, my worst enemy's brother...”

  “So?”

  “So...what if we can't make it work?”

  Philip stares at me with despondent intensity. “No, Sidney,” he says. “You can't mean this. Not when we're just starting out...not when this is all so fresh...I'm in too deep for that, Sidney.”

  “But we're not, are we?” My voice is shaking. I can hear my heart breaking. This is the last thing I want to do. But I am so scared there is no other way.

  “No, Sidney, you can't be saying these things.”

  “I mean, it's not like we're serious, are we?”

  The silence in the room is unfathomable. You could hear the atoms colliding in the air.

  Philip grabs my shoulders hard. “I am serious about you, Sidney,” he says. “For once in my life, I'm serious. I'm not serious about a lot, but you...what you mean to me...this matters, Sidney. Whatever our parents do, it doesn't affect us. We were involved before they got back together – long before that...”

  “You mean...you want to keep on seeing me, despite everything.” I don't understand. How could Philip's feelings about me be this strong. We barely even know one another!

  And yet I feel it too. This connection. This truth. It's more than just a passing fancy, more than just a fling.

  “I don't want to give you up, Sidney,” Philip says, holding me tight. “I never will. Nothing can make me.”

  “Oh, Philip...” I sigh. I don't know what I can say. I want to believe him. I want to give myself over to this feeling – this insane desire, this almost-love. But how can I make myself this vulnerable? How can I give in – knowing how dire the consequences might be?

  “Sidney,” Philip tightens his grip on me. I try to pull away, but he won't let me. He's staring straight into my eyes. “I meant what I said. I want you. And I won't give you up no matter what. I don't care if I'm your stepbrother. It doesn't matter. Just because our parents got together doesn't mean we have to change our whole lives around what they...”

  His phone starts ringing. The little glow lights up the bedsheets.

  “Sorry,” he sighs. “I have to take this. It's...it's my dad.”

  “Hi...”

  He furrows his brow again. “Yeah, I heard. How? Sidney Stone. She works in my office, remember. Yeah – we're all out doing a story in Vegas.” He turns bright red. “A work thing. We're all in the...uh....Vegas office right now.
I heard her mom call. Congratulations, dad.” His mouth narrows into a cruel smirk. “You know, you really could have told us in advance...I know, I know. Meet?”

  He looks horrified.

  “No, dad, of course I want to meet her. But...I know, dad. I know.” He looks almost harangued. For the first time, I see him not as a powerful man, but as a little boy, just as annoyed by his parents as any of us. “Tomorrow night. Okay. Fine. I'll see you both....no, dad, Kendall's in California. No, I can't just buy her a ticket and fly her out, that's...okay Dad. Okay. Fine. I'll get her a ticket.”

  Kendall's coming out to Vegas? My heart plummets. I feel sick. The thought of dealing with Kendall's disappointment and rage is enough to make me want to run out of here and never look back.

  “Sidney, too? Dad – I'm her boss, it'd be...yes, I know we're a family now, but even so....Fine.” He tugs his fingers through his hair in anger. “Fine, dad. Whatever you say I'll bring Sidney, too. Congrats, dad. Congrats. Bye.”

  He hangs up the phone, groaning with dismay.

  “I'm sure you figured out what was going on, there.”

  “Philip...” I try to keep my voice gentle. “Maybe...maybe this is just too awkward.”

  “I'm going to tell my father about us,” Philip stands up abruptly. “That's the only solution. That's the only way any of this is going to work. I'm going to tell him the whole truth – and Kendall, too.”

  “Philip, please, don't,” I say. “I can't – if Kendall goes off the rails again, and it screws up my mom's new life with Alan – I just can't watch her get her heart broken again. She really loves your father.”

  “Come on, Sidney – Kendall's a big girl! She'll get over it!”

  “Maybe...” I say. “Or maybe not.”

  “Come to dinner, Sidney. Please. Please.” He is commanding, serious. He wants this. I want this.

  But I can't give in. Not now. Not with my mother's happiness at stake. I have to be strong – no matter what the consequences. I have to withstand this pain just a little while longer.

  “I'm sorry, Philip,” I say. “I can't. This is too much.”

  “But Sidney!”

  “I'm sorry,” I say, my voice shaking with pain, as I run for the door.

  I cry all the way home from Vegas. I book my own flight with the last bit of cash I have in my wallet – which is, incidentally, all the money I have in the world until my next paycheck comes through. Philip had only booked the outbound leg of the flight first class – he hasn't known what time or when we'd be coming back. But I got my story, at least enough of it, and now I'm done. And I'm too proud to call Philip and ask him to book the flight for me. I can't deal with him right now. I can't deal with looking into those deep, piercing blue eyes, hearing him say my name in that low, melodious voice of his, feeling the touch of his hand against mine which will drive my body crazy. I just know I won't be able to be that strong – not as long as Philip is near me. A girl can only take on so much. So I do the stupid thing, at least from an economic standpoint. A deeply stupid thing. I go straight to the airport and get a plane ticket in coach back to California.

  Right now, I don't care about the money. I don't care about anything. All I want is to sleep, to go back to my own bed in my crappy apartment that I can actually just about afford and eat ramen with Kiley and go back to my normal life. I don't want to be an heiress to the LaFleur fortune. I don't want to stay in posh MGM suites and go to party with celebrities on the red carpet. That girl who has been having all of those adventures – she isn't me. She's some weird alternate-universe avatar version of myself: someone I don't relate to or understand at all. That girl might be dating Philip LaFleur. But she's a lie. An illusion.

  This was only ever a dream, I tell myself on the plane over. This was only ever an illusion. You knew that. You let yourself get swept up by the fantasy. You let yourself believe things because you wanted to believe them. Not very journalistic, was it? Ignoring evidence, deduction, reason in favor of intuition and gut? Not a good show, Sidney Stone. Not a good show at all.

  You should have known better.

  Images – awful images – float through my brain. Images of Kendall finding out about her father's marriage. Even if she doesn't know about me and Philip dating, she'll be absolutely livid. Which will only strengthen her resolve to make my life a living hell at FDL. There's no way I'll be able to have a career as long as she's around – even if Philip tries to protect me from her, he is her brother, after all. His loyalty is to his blood. As mine is to mine. I'll never stop supporting my mother. And he'll never be able to stop supporting his father and sister. There's no way out of this.

  Maybe I should just quit FDL, I think. Just get up and go. Find another job. Maybe Philip would be able to write me a good recommendation later, get me a place somewhere else. But the idea hurts almost as much as losing Philip does. I loved FDL. I worked to build it up into what it is today – a magazine worth spending the LaFleur fortune on. And I loved my assignment exposing corruption and match-fixing in MMA fighting. It was exciting – an adventure. My first big adventure. And now it's all over in the blink of an eye. Now...

  Maybe I'll be able to keep my job, I think hopefully. Maybe I won't have to quit. But I can't imagine seeing Philip every day, staring at him across the office, wanting him, needing him, loving him and not being able to act on the desires that shoot through me like lighting. I can't do this, I think. I can't breathe. I am getting hysterical. I can't watch him, wanting him so badly, and not act on my desires. How am I supposed to be near him when all I want to do is surrender to his touch – all I want is for him to take me in his arms and hold me tight.

  When I land, my phone lights up with messages. From Philip.

  Where are you?

  Please call me back, Sidney.

  I'm worried about you.

  Sidney I've been calling for hours. We need to talk. Now.

  Chapter 8

  I can't answer. I don't even know what to say. I stagger home on a series of busses from the airport.

  By the time I arrive in my apartment, I feel like death warmed over.

  “Christ!” Kiley says as soon as she gets a look at me. “You look like death warmed over.”

  “What?”

  “What the hell's wrong with you?”

  “What?” I feel groggy. My head is fuzzy and my eyes are bleary and watery. I figured it had just been the stress of the day. But Kiley bounds over and puts her hand to my head.

  “Crikey, you're hot as the fucking Sahara. How long have you been sick?”

  “Me...sick?” I repeat dully.

  “You're more than sick, love. You're absolutely fucking wrecked.”

  “Oh...” I say.

  Then I collapse.

  The next thing I remember is waking up on the sofa, wrapped in blankets. Kiley is sitting cross-legged on the armchair staring at me.

  “Good,” she says. “You're not dead. That's a start.”

  “What happened?”

  “You passed out,” says Kiley. “I'd have called the doctor or something – but, I don't think either of us can afford that right now. So I tried some home remedies.” I look at the coffee table. She's spread out a bunch of medicine on the table, along with herbal tea. “You've got the flu, girl, and you've got it bad.”

  I've got it bad all right, I think dizzily. I do feel sick. Clearly my body is working overtime to combat the stress.

  “What happened to your face?”

  I touch my lip, remembering the black eye I got from the men who assaulted Mitch Conway.

  “Oh,” I say. “It's...complicated. I don't really want to talk about it.”

  “Suit yourself,” shrugs Kiley. “But whatever you're up to, it sounds pretty shady. Be sure you're taking care of yourself, okay, Sidney?”

  “Okay...”

  I look down at my phone. More missed calls, text messages.

  Look Sidney just let me know you're OK ok?

  That's all I need.


  I force myself to text back. My thumbs feel swollen with fluid from the fever.

  Home. Sick. Actually sick, not faking.

  Can we deal with all this in a few days?

  The doorbell rings. Through the fog in my head I vaguely look up.

  “Sit down.” Kiley says. “That'll be Johnson.”

  “Johnson? What's he doing here?”

  “I called him,” Kiley says matter-of-a-factly. “He got back from Vegas just after you did. I have to go out for my night shift soon and I don't want to leave you alone.”

  I don't really remember what happens next. I fall asleep again, my fever spiking. My head is throbbing. My temples are clammy and burning at the same time. I don't really remember facts, narrative. I just remember images. Johnson sitting alongside me, wrapping me with blankets. Johnson, caressing my cheeks. Johnson, touching my lips gently to open them. Johnson, spoon-feeding soup into my mouth. The fever is worse, now, so I can't speak to him or even smile, or even say thank you.

  Didn't we have a fight? The last thing I remember is Johnson storming out...but in the fog of my sickness it doesn't seem to matter now. He's wrapping me in a thick, fuzzy robe. He's stroking my hair, untangling it. He's mopping my forehead with a washcloth.

  “Sh...” he says. “Shh....Sidney. Don't strain yourself. I know you're sick. Just lie back, relax. Feel better.”

  It's so nice to have Johnson alongside me. He's always so warm and so comforting. He always makes me feel so safe. It's like the old days, I think groggily. Just me and Johnson, sitting on the sofa together. Johnson taking care of me. Johnson's arms around me. Like it used to be before everything got so complicated and gross.

  “Thhhannnksss...Johnnson...” I murmur.

  That's the last thing I remember. Then I fell asleep again, out like I'd been hit in the head with a concrete brick.

  By the time I wake up, it's dawn, and Kiley's tramping through the house in her bartender getup.