Wrong: A Spoiled Stepbrother Romance

by Pfeiffer Jayst

  *****

  ROUND EIGHT

  *****

  Madelyn

  The days at my new job continued to be long and oh-so-boring. It became a struggle to figure out how to relieve the stress once I was released each day. Unfortunately, there weren't many options. I didn't have any friends in town, couldn't stand my stepbrother and was broke. There was little left to do besides sit in my room and pray things got better soon.

  My mother didn't seem to have any issues fitting in, she took to her new life with enthusiasm.

  "Why, hello there, Maddie!" she called out to me as I returned home one late afternoon. Mother was lounging in an inflatable pool chair, floating on the cool, blue water and sipping from a drink without a care in the world. Before I could even say 'hello' I noticed her tiny, annoying Pomeranian eating from a plate left poolside. I rushed over to take it way from him.

  "Mom...Mom...Rocky's eating your food," I said while snatching the plate from the dog like an evil witch in a children’s movie. Upon closer inspection, I saw a handful of choice cuts of meat: beef, chicken...pork?

  "Oh, Maddie, it's ok, that's his lunch," she informed me while looking over the top of her sunglasses, a straw resting on her lower lip. This dog was eating better than I was. "If you want to take some, just make sure nobody's watching." Mom looked around to ensure that there wasn’t anybody who would report my theft to her overbearing soon-to-be husband. It wasn't a surprise, Carmine had made it very clear that Rorke and I weren't to be given anything, "Or else they'll never leave," I overheard him say a few times.

  I politely declined her kind offer of letting me eat off of her dog's plate.

  "Oh and can you be on the lookout for some packages? Just in case they deliver my stuff to the carriage house instead." Her smile was nauseating. "Say what you want about Carmine but he does spoil me. I just can't stop shopping online and he doesn't stop me!"

  Your only child, your daughter is starving and miserable and you blew money on another pair of shoes? Nice mom. Of course I didn't say that out loud but I had hoped my scowl clued her in to my dissatisfaction. My frustration only grew when Mother started to pull herself out of the pool and the super expensive smartphone left carelessly by her side, tumbled into the water. She didn’t appear to be all that concerned.

  "Julio?! Julio?!" she called out to a nearby landscaper, "I dropped another phone in the pool, would you be a dear and go get it for me? It’s probably broken but quite expensive so please, as soon as you can. Thank you as always!"

  The working man had a good control over his temper and simply nodded that yes, he would dive into the pool to get the dead phone that she carelessly let fall to the bottom. She didn't care, the large price tag to replace it was now nothing to her. I hoped that Julio at least looked forward to the dips in the pool, he was clearly sweaty from the hard work, long hours and heavy clothes he had to wear on such a hot day. His brow was well moistened, shiny from the massive amount of sweat that beaded up and rolled down the side of his face. My decision was to think of this as a nice gesture on my mother’s part, maybe this was her sneaky way of allowing one of the workers a break.

  “And Julio,” she called out to him again, “don’t let me catch you swimming in there. This time, straight in, get my stuff, and then right out.” She even demonstrated to the man with hand gestures, making well sure he knew that he wasn’t allowed to relax for even a moment, not while he was being paid to work. Any illusion I had of her as being kind and generous went flying out the window.

  Even though she hadn't even gone into the water, I watched as Mother went through the motions of "drying" herself off with a brand new, pristine, white towel. As soon as she decided she had accomplished what she wanted to, Mother discarded the barely used, perfectly fine towel into a pile Julio had set aside for trash. When I called her out on being so wasteful, Mom assured me that it wasn’t a problem, “We have plenty of them,” she proudly declared. This new side of Mother was increasingly worrying, she had grown way too comfortable and needed to be reigned in; I just didn’t believe I had the skill-set to be the one to do it. With a confused and saddened mind, I left her to her spoils as I made my way to the carriage house, making sure to thank each of the workers I passed. Though I wanted to chastise my mom for how ridiculously she was behaving, I also knew I needed to remember my place.

  When I opened the main door to the carriage house and saw that it was quiet and still, I almost started to cry with happiness. Any time in there without Rorke around was a blessing. There was no sign of him, nothing indicating that he was anywhere in there. My mind ran over a list of things I could possibly do, knowing I probably only had time to pick one; there was no way to know when Rorke would be back. It didn’t take long to come up with what I wanted the most: a bath. A soothing, warm bath where I could relax just as Mother had been doing out in the pool. I giddily pranced straight to my room to prepare for the soak, even being as bold to pick out a book and candle too. After I was set, I rushed towards the bathroom, my plush, pink bathrobe clung against my naked body as I happily made my way there.

  At first I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary in the bathroom. The lights were off and nothing seemed out of place, at least at first. Once my eyes did adjust to the low-light, a submerged and naked Rorke greeted me with arms open. The very tip of the very top of his, um, excitement poked above the water, like a perverted periscope desperate for attention. My body momentarily froze, shocked and unsure of what to do. It took longer than it should have to avert my eyes from his proud manhood on display.

  “It’s ok, you can look,” he proudly told me as I moved my eyes to anywhere but the tub, “I don’t mind.”

  I’ll admit my fingers didn’t totally block my view, there was just enough room between them to still see the hints of his flesh that rose above the water. As discreetly as I could, I let my eyes wander just a little bit lower, one last peek at the hints of his impressive package erect in the water.

  “I’m sorry,” I stammered with hand still over my eyes, “I’m…sorry, I’ll go now.” My things clung to my body as I hurried away.

  “Where you going? C’mon…” Rorke protested as I turned and made my way quickly to the other side of the carriage house. I locked my door and threw myself on the bed, frustrated yet again. The idea of that bath had locked in my mind. I was so excited for it but now it couldn’t happen. Rorke would probably be in that tub for who knows how long and would I really want to go in there after him? Stew in the same tub where his naked, ripped flesh pressed against the sides of the tub, where his cute butt was practically cemented to the same bottom I would sit on? It was a little surprise when I found the idea of such not entirely repulsing me, a little naughty excitement ran up and down my entire body.

  I didn’t let myself get too carried away, only allowing the super-wrong fantasies run through my mind for a few seconds before I swatted them away. It wasn’t appropriate and I had better stop entertaining such ideas. On my bed I tried to think of literally anything else to take my mind off of Rorke’s perfect body

  “Hey,” I heard come through the wall, “You can always come in the bathroom while I’m in there. Just get in the tub and sit down on my lap. Seriously, you don’t even have to knock.”

  “I’m sorry, it was an accident,” I pleaded back.

  All I could make out was him saying “uh huh.” Whatever, I didn’t care if he believed me or not. Prepared for an onslaught of rude innuendos, I was surprised when he asked, “How’s your job and stuff?” through the wall. I was momentarily touched by his concern about my day. While I desperately wanted to believe it was genuine, I knew full well who I was dealing with. Still though, I needed some place to vent.

  My explanation was kept brief, as a courtesy, I didn’t want Rorke to be under the impression I was a complainer. There was still enough in my tone for him to figure out that I wasn’t happy.

  “Is it what you want to be doing?” he asked and my silence gave him his answer: It
wasn’t what I wanted to be doing and thinking about wasting any more hours there felt like torture. “You shouldn’t go back,” he insisted. Since Rorke had never been one to have to hold down a job, I didn’t hold his naivety against him. At some point he would learn that you couldn’t just do whatever you wanted, or at least the rest of us couldn’t.

  “So, um, how’s the boxing?” I politely asked during the next lull in our conversation. Rorke came alive behind the wall, his voice animated as he insisted he was “killing it” and getting better everyday. More than a few times he told me that I should come to his fight but each time I reminded him that boxing wasn’t “my thing”. None of that dampened his enthusiasm and it was welcoming to hear, nice to listen to someone being so passionate and positive. The way he described what he was doing in that gym everyday made me want to be closer to him. With the door to my room safely closed, I pressed up against the wall and felt the vibrations from his voice caress my tired body. Every word he spoke ran through me in a pleasant buzz. For a few moments, I allowed myself to forget who I was and where I was, instead dropping it all and releasing my inhibitions to feel good for once, no matter how naughty I was being.

  My meditation was suddenly interrupted when I didn’t feel his voice echoing through me. He had abruptly stopped talking and I wasn’t sure why. Having been so wrapped up in the moment, I wasn’t sure if he had asked me a question or was waiting for a response of some kind. After a few more moments of silence, Rorke gave up on me and I began to hear that familiar beat again, he was playing that song again. Instead of being annoyed, I lowered down onto my side, pressed myself firmly against the wall and closed my eyes, wanting to fall asleep to the same music my stepbrother was listening to.

  *****

  ROUND NINE

  *****

  Madelyn

  As the days went on, I sadly found that lunch time at the new job was anything but exciting. There was a small, depressing break room where I would use what little money I had to get maybe a bag of chips or a granola bar from the one sad vending machines in there. Nobody ever sat with me or paid much attention, I would just spend the time scrolling through my phone, looking for entertainment and hoping to be anywhere else. This workplace loneliness made ignoring Derek's continued messaging all the more difficult.

  "Hey"

  "You there?"

  "Just let me explain"

  His messages didn’t vary much, pretty much the same three short phrases over email or text, though he never found the need to actually call. My boredom and loneliness actually caused me to contemplate responding, just for something to keep me occupied and maybe give me some excitement in my life. The daydream fantasies I came up with in that break room always imagined the best-case scenario, as unlikely as it may be. I imagined Derek groveling for my forgiveness for days and nights, begging for me to take him back. Of course I would be cold at first but the Derek I imagined in my mind wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer and would persist against anything to win my back my love. Thanks to a little lunch-hour internet sleuthing, I was actually able to find out that that whore Becca moved back to her hometown without Derek. Without her around, rekindling with my ex-boyfriend could actually happen without her distraction. Hell, maybe he'd even let me move in with him. I continued to daydream this improbable fantasy, getting lost and forgetting where I even was.

  "Mind if we sit here?" a perky blonde asked, her hand on the chair at my table. The break room was unusually crowded and there wasn't anywhere else for her and her cute brunette friend to sit so I obliged, even if I wasn’t too interested in company.

  "Jenny, by the way," the blonde introduced herself while pulling the seat back and plopping herself down.

  "Madelyn," the brunette said quietly, providing the perfect ice breaker.

  "Ha, that's my name too!" I gleefully told her. Madelyn 2 wasn't as amused but did provide a small smirk to acknowledge the happenstance.

  My hope that this was a beginning of a new friendship dampened when they began to carry on a conversation between just themselves. I was resigned to go back to daydreaming about the new life I was imagining for Derek and myself. Just when I had visualized my ex-boyfriend cooking breakfast for me, I was alerted that my two tablemates were waiting for a response.

  "Hello? Hello? So you're new?" Jenny asked, apparently for a second time.

  "Um, yeah, started last week. You?"

  Jenny and Madelyn 2 informed me that they had each been there a year and both seemed annoyed by that fact. Neither was particularly interested in their jobs but recognized it was needed, at least for the time being, to pay for their fancy apartments downtown.

  "Where do you live, Mad?" Madelyn 2 had assigned me a new nickname that I just brushed off. Unwilling to tell them the truth, I scrambled for an adequate response.

  "I, um," I stammered, "I live...um, in a temporary place. I'm looking for a new place. What's it like downtown? Is it nice?"

  Both girls excitedly detailed just how awesome their chic pads were. They loved living downtown, close to the coolest clubs and restaurants. Everyone who was anyone lived there, both insisted.

  "At least until you're rich enough to have a mansion up on the hill, like those jackass Fratelli's," Jenny helpfully explained.

  "H-how much are apartments downtown?" I asked though I knew the answer wasn’t something I wanted to hear.

  "Well, for a super nice place, like three grand a month, not too bad" Mad 2 informed. When she saw my face turn sour she attempted to help at least a little, "But you could probably find something for like two grand just a little further away. I’m sure it wouldn’t be too bad."

  My heart sank as the reality of not being able to afford even the less desirable area became clear.

  "Where do people live who like, don't have that kind of money?" I tried so hard not to sound as pathetic as I likely did.

  Jenny seemed to pick up on the fact that I was one of the people without the financial needs required to live here. "Hmm, I don't know. There's really not around that's much cheaper. Except for the really dangerous parts, of course. You could, like, live there for a little bit. Carry some mace, stay inside with the door locked..."

  Reuniting with my cheating ex-boyfriend was quickly becoming my only option. At least until Mad 2 spoke up.

  "Actually," she said, letting that word linger a little too long, "I do know about something a little cheaper. Right on the edge of downtown too." Madelyn 2 waited until she believed she had piqued my interest before continuing. "My mother has this old aunt, a real sweet lady who's looking for someone to move in and help her out, just a little. Rent's cheaper if you’ll do a few things around the house."

  Right off the bat, it sounded like I would be signing up to be a live-in maid, not exactly an ideal situation. On the other hand, helping out some old lady would prevent me from having to rely on Derek. As much as I liked to pretend that he would spent day and night trying to win back my favor, the reality was that the second he realized I needed him more than he needed me, he'd probably go right back to taking me for granted. Absolutely none of my current options were great but unless something magically presented itself soon, I was going to have to pick between the lesser of two evils.

  "Can I get her email or, um, phone number?" I asked my new work friend who excitedly wrote the number out for me. At that moment I hoped for Derek to send me a message, to help send me a sign when I needed it, but no message came. I tucked the paper with the woman's phone number in my pocket, just in case things came to that. My new friends soon left with a polite goodbye and I prepared to return to the soulless cubicle to wish the day away.

  *****

  ROUND TEN

  *****

  Rorke

  My sparring matches were always saved for the end of the day, Hubert always made sure to schedule me last. My matches came to be quite an event, every single person in that gym would line against the ring, eager to see me try and defend myself against one of the more seasoned boxer
s. After weeks of training though, there was now a slightly improved performance coming through. After getting the hang of the day-ending sparring matches, I started to find the rhythm, a way to keep myself from getting too banged up. I learned to anticipate the punches coming my way, no matter how fast, and was able to get in a few of my own.

  It was at the end of every grueling workout that Hubert would announce the sparring match ups, the two boxers he wanted to train together. It was supposed to be light punching, nothing major, in an effort to improve each boxer. Instead, my matches turned out to be the bloodthirsty entertainment for everyone else, full-on damaging punches thrown with the one goal seemingly to be to show me that I was still no boxer. Suddenly, I started to get encouragement when they found I wasn't backing down.

  "That's it, son!" Hubert started to yell out when I'd do something smart like block a quick punch or even land a jab against my opponent. Hubert's praise was more of a reward to me than succeeding with an effective punch, his support gave me the energy to keep going. Even though his encouragement was becoming more and more frequent, I was still regularly taking a beating. These kids I was facing were more trained, more disciplined, smarter, better, younger, faster. Once they were able to get through my defense for the first time, it was only a matter of time before they perfectly demonstrated the flaws and weaknesses in my technique.