Stepbrother Catfish: The Complete Series

by Sweet, Izzy

  Chapter Eight

  I can’t go back to work. I’m taking a mental health day. I haven’t called in sick or anything, I’m just not showing up. My stepfather, Jack, is probably going to fire me. My dream of opening my own bakery is going up in smoke.

  This is exactly the excuse Jack needs to deny me the loan he promised. I’ve put in so much time already and clocked so many hours of mindless filing, it’s all going to be for nothing.

  I just can’t face Andrew yet. I still can’t completely wrap my mind around what happened.

  How did I not know AJ was Andrew? How did I not recognize his voice?

  Andrew has been blowing up my phone. I’m ignoring him. I’m at home, in my PJs, smelling ripe, and binging on Netflix. Between seasons of the biker drama I’m currently engrossed in, I stop and whip up a batch of cookies. Cookies and tight biker butts are the only things keeping me going.

  The more time that passes, the more surreal the whole catfish thing feels. Did it really happen? Or was it something I watched on TV?

  Logically, it makes more sense that I made up the whole thing or that it was a bad dream. Andrew could never be AJ because AJ loves me, understands me, and gets me.

  Andrew is a complete dick.

  Andrew made it a priority to be mean to me, and it wasn’t just at work. Since our parents married and we had to attend countless family events and holidays together, I always dreaded being anywhere near him. He’s so beautiful, smart, successful, and freakin’ perfect. And he never missed an opportunity to show it or prove it. His favorite way of proving it is by comparing himself to me.

  Usually it’s the same points, over and over again. I should put more effort into making more friends. I’m too shy and reserved. I’d be prettier if I just smiled more or wore better clothes.

  But the one that really gets me, rubs me just the wrong way every time he says it is the one about how he went to college and got a degree, even if he doesn’t plan on using it. He has a backup plan if he needs it. To him, I’m making a huge mistake by not continuing my education and forgoing college to pursue my dream. And of course, the rub is that our parents always agree with him. My own mother takes his side.

  Oh, fuck me.

  I’m a mess. I’m on my couch, I haven’t showered or changed my PJs in two days. If my smell gets any worse the cops are going to come knocking thinking there’s a dead body in here. If I leave the house, people will think I’m one of the walking dead. I’m sure my breath smells like it.

  On my phone, there are countless texts, chats, and voicemails from AJ. AJ, the man who loved me and thought I was the most wonderful thing in the world. AJ, the man who wished me good morning first thing every morning and never forgot to call me beautiful. He made me feel special, he made me feel important. He cared.

  I pull out my phone. I have a notification that I have a new text from AJ. I swipe it away. If only you could do the same thing with unwanted memories. Well, maybe you can… I pull up my saved conversations and sure enough I still have all my favorite chats with him saved. It’s not all in my imagination, he really did exist. Just for confirmation, I pull up one of my favorites and reread it.

  AJ: Good evening, beautiful. How was your day?

  Me: Long, as usual. I thought it would never end!

  AJ: Was there a lot of filing?

  Me: There were mountains of papers. I had to stay two hours extra. I hate tax season.

  AJ: Cinderella had a wicked stepmother. You have a wicked stepfather lol

  Me: Does that make you Prince Charming?

  AJ: One of these days I’m going to show up at your house with a horse and carriage and whisk you away to our happily ever after.

  Me: Horse and carriage is so 1800s.

  AJ: lol okay I’ll show up in my Audi R8

  Me: That’s more like it!

  AJ: We’ll cruise off into the sunset…

  Me: And then?

  AJ: Have lots and lots of babies.

  Me: How many babies are we talking here?

  AJ: Oh, I want at least four children.

  Me: Four?!

  AJ: Is that not enough? We can do five.

  Me: Yikes!

  AJ: I want a big family.

  Me: Me too but can a couple of them be adopted?

  AJ: lol it’s something we can negotiate

  Me: Negotiate? Seriously?

  AJ: Hailey, if I have my way, once I have you and you are truly mine, you’ll be lucky if I’m not knocking you up every nine months. I can’t imagine being able to keep my hands off you.

  Me: But they won’t all fit in the Audi…

  AJ: lol

  Me: It’s getting late, I need to make some dinner and get my beauty rest.

  AJ: Goodnight Cinderella, sweet dreams

  Me: Good night, Prince Charming, I’m waiting for you

  AJ: Not much longer, I promise. I love you

  Me: I’ll keep my eye out for the Audi. I love you too

  My thumb hovers over the delete button. It’s so tempting, maybe if I swipe I can get it to delete from my brain. Seconds pass, I’m so tempted, but ultimately I guess I’m still too weak. I toss my phone off to the side in disgust. Looking at the chat was a mistake. I don’t feel any better knowing that what happened wasn’t my imagination. I don’t feel any better reliving what we had.

  It sucks trying to come to terms with AJ not being real. I have to keep telling myself he is not a person, he does not exist.

  But dammit if I don’t want him to be real. I feel utterly pathetic admitting it, but even after what happened with Andrew, I wish AJ really did exist.

  In a way, I feel like I’m grieving. I feel like I’ve lost someone. I have to come to terms that the person I love is dead. AJ is dead.

  I wish more than anything I could bring him back. I wish I could turn back time and not meet up with Andrew. I wish I could live that fantasy just a bit longer…

  In a lot of ways he is dead. All those conversations about our dreams, our future, and our plans, none of them were real. It was all just Andrew messing with me. Andrew playing me as a fool, playing his sick game.

  How can this be? How can Andrew be AJ?

  It must be a joke. His sick idea of a prank. How sick do you have to be to do this to somebody? I feel not only betrayed but violated. And worse of all, I hate myself. I blame myself. I feel stupid. I let him do this to me.

  I feel like crying again, but I’m running out of tears. The only thing left to do is to go to bed. Maybe if I sleep long enough when I wake up it won’t hurt as bad. Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll wake up and this was all in my head.

  Chapter Nine

  I wake up and out of habit reach for my phone. It’s not on the nightstand. For a brief, wonderful moment, I forget what happened and want to read my good morning message to start the day.

  Reality punches me hard in the gut.

  I can hear my phone from here, it’s somewhere in my living room. I vaguely remember tossing it.

  The phone is dinging and vibrating like crazy. I’m pretty sure it’s Andrew texting me, but I better check in just in case it’s an emergency from my mother or something.

  With a groan, I roll out of my bed. I shuffle my way into my living room. My phone is still ringing and dinging like crazy, but I don’t see it anywhere. Somehow my couch must have eaten it. It does that from time to time, it’s so weird.

  I dig around in the cushions of my couch. I find a few cheese puffs, yuck, and a dozen hair bands. A million bobby pins poke me before my fingers touch the slick case of my phone. The way it’s going crazy, dinging and vibrating as it receives message after message, I’ve just about convinced myself it is an emergency. God, I hope something bad hasn’t happened to my mother. I hastily click on the screen.

  The first message to greet my groggy eyes is a picture of boobs. WTF Why are there boobies on my phone? Why is someone sending me nudies? Then I look closer. Wait. I recognize those boobs. Oh shit, those are my boobs! How did they get there?<
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  The second message is another picture, this one of my full body posing in front of my bedroom mirror. I remember taking that picture, and I remember sending it. Though, I definitely would much rather forget it.

  I’m wide awake now. My heart is hammering inside my chest. I’m starting to panic. I’m starting to remember all of the pictures I had sent to him, all of the dirty chats we had, all the sexting. My thumb slides over my screen over and over, swiping through all the messages. Andrew has sent me a copy of every naughty pic I ever sent him, and he’s sent me a message to go along with them.

  AJ: You’ve given me no choice, Hailey. You have 24 hours to text me back. If you don’t I’ll spread these pictures all over the internet. Don’t make me do it.

  Oh, fuck! I so want to tell him right where he can shove it, but he’s so psycho, he probably will plaster these photos everywhere, destroying what tiny shred of dignity I have left. I don’t know what to do. Holy crap, why does the universe do this to me? I so don’t deserve it.

  I’m scared to talk to Andrew. I just don’t get what more he wants from me. I don’t want to give him the ability to hurt me more. I don’t know how much hurt I can take.

  I scroll through his earlier texts, to see if there are any clues to what he wants. They only leave me more confused and panicked.

  AJ: Please come back. I can explain.

  AJ: It’s not what you think.

  AJ: I didn’t know how to tell you. If you just give me a chance, I promise you won’t regret it.

  AJ: Hailey, I meant everything I said. I love you, I want to be with you. Please talk to me.

  AJ: Good morning, beautiful. I really need to talk to you. I’ll stop by your office at work.

  AJ: Why didn’t you show up for work? Are you alright? Please talk to me.

  AJ: Please talk to me, Hailey. At least let me know you’re alright. I’m worried.

  AJ: This is not a game. I am not playing. Text me or call me ASAP

  I don’t know which is more frightening. Thinking Andrew is psycho or thinking he might actually have feelings for me.

  I can’t text him back just yet. I don’t even know what I should say. Now that the initial shock is wearing off, I’m torn. Part of me, the angry part, wants to tell him to go fuck himself and send him a picture back of his own cock right back. The other part of me desperately wants to know what he means by it’s not a game, he does love me and wants to be with me. I’m a sucker for punishment.

  I need a cup of wicked strong coffee to help me think about this. And maybe a couple of stiff drinks to go with it. Bringing my phone with me, I shuffle into the kitchen. I can’t help but glance at the screen as I pour my cup, rereading the texts over and over again.

  I was so convinced that Andrew was texting me to gloat or to further humiliate me. I just don’t know what to make of this. My gut tells me this is just more of his game. He’s still messing with me. He already knocked me out with his tricks. Now he’s coming in for the kill.

  My heart wants me to be stupid. It wants me to text him back right away. It wants him to tell me he loves me again. That he’s AJ, not Andrew. Andrew was the one that was all for pretend. AJ wants to be with me, AJ needs me. All of this was the only way he could show it.

  I sit down at my small kitchen table and drain my cup of coffee. I feel more alert and more awake but not any less conflicted. I know Andrew wouldn’t hesitate to do exactly as he threatened and spread my naked pics all over the internet. AJ, though, would never dream of it.

  My eyes start to blur as I stare hard at my screen with indecision. Finally, I just bite the bullet and send him a text. To hell with it.

  Me: What do you want?

  He responds almost instantly.

  AJ: To talk to you.

  Me: I have nothing to say.

  Oh, there are plenty of words scrolling through my brain but most of them are vulgar and will probably get auto-corrected. It’s not worth the effort to type them and then fix them.

  AJ: I want to explain.

  Me: What’s there to explain? You got me, you win. It’s over with. Now leave me alone.

  AJ: It’s not like that. I want to talk to you in person. Meet me for lunch.

  Me: I rather not. Please leave me alone.

  AJ: I can’t do that, Hailey.

  Me: You win, Andrew. What more do you want? You tricked me, haha. You made a fool of me. I’ve probably lost my job. I’ve probably lost the loan. Move on to somebody else. I hope karma bites you in the ass.

  I probably shouldn’t have sent that last bit.

  He doesn’t respond.

  Now I really feel like I shouldn’t have sent it. I probably pissed him off. Fuck, he could be sending out all those pics at this very minute.

  AJ: If you have lunch with me, I’ll never bother you again.

  Okay, he’s not sending out the pics, that’s a relief. But the thought of seeing him face to face is giving me heart palpitations. He’s so insistent. Why does he want to see me so bad?

  I have such a bad feeling about all of this.

  Me: I’m not really hungry.

  Which is true. I had at least two sheets of cookies last night. Maybe more… I can be purposely bad at counting when it comes to cookies.

  AJ: You don’t have to eat.

  Me: Why don’t you just call me? I’ll answer this time, I promise.

  AJ: I have to see you in person.

  Me: I so don’t want to see you

  Especially after what you did to me.

  AJ: I don’t care if you want to see me. I want to see you in person or no deal.

  I hate you, I just can’t say it.

  Me: Where do you want to meet?

  AJ: Meet me at Angilos, at 1.

  Of course, he wants to meet there of all places. It’s 9:30 right now. I still have plenty of time to decide if I really want to meet him. For now, I’ll just let him believe I intend to. I can always stand him up, give him a little taste of his own medicine.

  Me: You’ll never bother me again and you’ll delete all of my pictures?

  AJ: Meet me at Angilos at 1 and I’ll never bother you again afterwards.

  Me: If I don’t meet you, you’re going to post the pictures on the internet?

  AJ: I’ll post them on your wall, on your feed, in your yearbook. I’ll tweet them and I’ll even pin them.

  Me: Fine.

  You win for now.

  Me: I’ll be there.

  What choice do I have?

  Chapter Ten

  I’m all dolled up. I spent the past three hours getting ready for my lunch with Andrew. Focusing on primping kept me occupied and kept me from freaking myself out. Seriously.

  I spent an hour on my hair, washing it and setting it with curls. My hair now flows around my face in soft bouncy waves. I pulled out and dusted off the manicure set my mom bought me for Christmas. My ten fingers and toes are now painted an eye-catching ruby red.

  On the outside I look fabulous, on the inside I’m a complete mess.

  I spent another hour slathering makeup on my face. I’m wearing base, highlighter, bronzer, blush, and powder. It’s probably all too much, especially in the bright light of day, but I agreed to meet him. I didn’t agree to look good doing it.

  I have a full-length mirror hanging on my bedroom door. I take one last long look at the girl reflected in it. Her eyes are lined in black and powdered with dark smoky shadow. She looks hardened and unimpressed with the vision before her.

  You can’t tell she’s been crying for the past twenty-four hours. You can’t tell her heart has been broken. Or maybe you can.

  Her dress is tight, hugging the curves and swells of her voluptuous body. A body she usually keeps hidden in baggy clothing. The dress is too short as well. It’s a little blue dress I wore once to a dance in high school. It’s not my first choice and I barely fit in it, but it will have to do. I wore my black dress the night I met Andrew. That dress is getting burned the next chance I get.

&nbs
p; I hail a cab to take me to the restaurant. I know better than to ride the bus dressed like this. The trip is all too quick. The buildings pass in a blur, I barely see them. When I first wanted to meet AJ, time seemed to move so slowly. Now that I’m dreading facing Andrew, time feels as if it’s moving too fast. I blink and minutes are flying past.

  The next thing I know I’m standing outside of Angilos, hesitating and having second thoughts before going in. He’s in there, I can feel it. He’s waiting for me. I’m afraid he wants something more from me, something I don’t want to give. None of this feels right. It’s so fishy… ugh, I don’t think he can catfish me again.

  This is crazy, what am I doing? People pass me on the sidewalk. A man dressed in a chicken suit looks back at me as if I’m the weird one. I’m just standing here, in the middle of the sidewalk, talking to myself. I’m staring at the door of the restaurant. The restaurant doesn’t even look like it's open.

  I glimpse my reflection in the glass of the window. The way I’m dressed, it has hooker written all over it. I better go in before the chicken gets any ideas.