Pulse: A Stepbrother Romance

by Whiskey, D. G.

  “I’ll be right there watching.” I leaned forward and kissed her, soft and light since I didn’t want to throw any distracting thoughts into her head just before the play started.

  She didn’t let me pull back when I intended to, grabbing hold of the back of my head and pulling me deeper into the kiss. I growled and barely prevented myself from burying my hands into her hair and ruining the work of the makeup crew over the past hour.

  “Thanks,” Leah said when we parted. “I needed that. How’s my makeup?”

  “Perfect.”

  “Okay. It’s time to shine.” She smiled. “That’s what Dad always said every time I performed. It didn’t matter how important it was, whether I practiced lines in front of him after dinner at night or if I was about to lead a school production. It’s time to shine.”

  “You shine brighter than anyone I’ve ever known. Now go knock ‘em dead.”

  With one last squeeze of the hand, I left her to go find my seat.

  Theater had never been one of my interests. In fact, this was the first time I’d ever been in one. I expected it to be more like a movie theater, but the way it was set up made more sense, with the balcony over top.

  Leah had gotten me a seat at the front of the balcony, off to the side. It was a good seat. I had a great view of the stage, and it wasn’t too elevated that the sets looked unrealistic.

  People streamed in shortly after. The theater wasn’t too large—intimate was a good word. There were enough seats for a few hundred people.

  Only a quarter of the venue had people in the seats with ten minutes to curtain. Just before the time struck, a flood of stragglers swept through the doors. Some of them wore clothing that wasn’t appropriate, as if they’d been swept in off the street.

  Maybe they had. It was like an airplane—empty seats wouldn’t gain the production anything. Selling tickets at half price just before the show started was better than not selling them at all.

  The lights dimmed, and I stopped worrying about the audience so I could sit back and enjoy the play.

  At least I could partake in my favorite activity—watching Leah be passionate about something. Her character was a passionate woman, and Leah fit the role to a “T”. She was also in almost every scene, so she never had a long break. The number of costume changes she pulled off in a short time was astounding.

  And all the cast members standing backstage are probably getting an eyeful. It almost made me wish I’d volunteered to help her change, both so I could watch and to fend off what I imagined to be a horde of horny arts students.

  As the first act got underway, one thing became clear—Leah hadn’t been overstating her fears about the cast’s talents. I had gone over the script almost as much as Leah, playing the opposing part in every scene. I couldn’t help but mouth the words along with whatever actor played opposite her.

  The words didn’t always match.

  It was usually small things, a turn of phrase that made little difference and the rest of the audience couldn’t possibly notice.

  Every once in a while, it was something major.

  Are you kidding me? I raged inside my mind as the man playing the duke failed to point out the stable boy’s absence. It was a non-event right then, but that little clue was the only piece of evidence that would guide an observant audience member toward the correct, logical conclusion of the act. Without it, the culmination of the final scene would be random and out of nowhere without a proper setup.

  “My lord,” Leah said on stage. “Does it not appear that one of our party is absent?”

  She caught it. Of course she would. And she knew as well as I did how important it was.

  The actor was caught off guard by the sudden departure from a script he did not fully remember.

  “Um, it does?”

  She pointed to the hole in the lineup of minor characters around them. “Our stable boy is missing!”

  The duke snapped out of it and put his hands on his hips. “Yes, of course! Men, find out where the stable boy went. We must stick together now. I fear the worst is upon us!”

  It was a close call, and my admiration for Leah doubled.

  That girl knows how to think on her feet.

  She wasn’t in the clear yet, though. The number of mistakes only grew larger as time went on, some of them egregious enough that the small audience couldn’t help but notice.

  The first act drew to a shaky close, and a spattering of applause greeted the closing of the curtain.

  Let’s hope this gets better.

  Come on, Liam.

  I maintained my pose as the boy—only a year younger but so much more immature I couldn’t think of him as a man—struggled to remember his line. He stared at my face, terror showing as he realized that the words wouldn’t come.

  For fuck’s sake.

  “Don’t you love me, Drake? Aren’t I woman enough for you? I thought you would take care of my husband for me so we could be together forever! Was that all an elaborate ruse so you could kiss me in the courtyard? You’re no better than a common scoundrel!” I improvised, throwing my handkerchief at his face.

  “Ah, Annie, you’re the only one I want. You know I would do anything for you!”

  Close enough.

  I swept across the stage, putting on false hysterics for the audience as I berated Drake for not looking out for my interests. That he was the fifth man I’d so accosted in the play was part of the fun, as was the fact that none of them knew about each other.

  At least, not yet. That’s coming up, though.

  Getting to the end of the play had proven an ordeal. A masterpiece like the script as written deserved to be made into a spectacle, a wonderful night of storytelling and acting.

  It was instead a travesty.

  I’d failed John. I’d promised him I would make this a night to remember, and our praises would be sung in the papers. That he would get the recognition he deserved for such brilliant and clever writing.

  I tried to ignore the couple in the middle of the orchestra seating who got up and headed for the door during Liam’s next set of lines. The audience had dwindled ever since midway through the first act, and now that the play was close to being over, only a fraction remained.

  Part of the problem was the sheer length of the play, but it was good enough it shouldn’t have mattered. No, the real issue was that the cast wasn’t engaging enough. I tried to make up for it, but despite being in every scene, there was only so much I could do.

  The scene ended, and I left for the final costume change.

  “Good, good,” Joseph said, swigging from a small flask that had come out before the opening scene of the night. John had been right all along about him. “Good job, everyone.”

  The disinterest affected everyone. It was obvious in the expressions of the cast standing around waiting for the massive confrontation of the final scene.

  “Shouldn’t you be doing more than that?” I asked him. “You know, directing or something?”

  He swung the flask back and took another long drag of whatever harsh alcohol was inside. The smell of it singed my nostrils when he belched.

  “Hey, princess, you may think you’re on the up and up, but I’m a seasoned director. Don’t think you know more about this business than I do. Just because you’re the star doesn’t mean I don’t have my shit handled. It’s not my fault that this lot can’t act to save their lives. Besides, with your name attached to this train wreck you aren’t ever going to have another shot at fame.”

  His words were like a slap to the face.

  “You coward,” I said, pointing my finger right in his face. He had trouble focusing on it. “Just because you’ve ruined your reputation and your life doesn’t mean the rest of us have to follow you off the cliff.”

  I turned to the rest of the cast.

  “I know we’ve had a tough go of it tonight. It’s natural to be nervous and even forgetting a line happens to the best of us.”

  Someone to my rig
ht muttered, “It never happened to you.”

  That threw me off my stride. “Well, I… I practice hard, and I got lucky. The point is that we still can end on a high note. This last scene is the most important one, and we can still nail it. It’s the one we spent the most time on in rehearsal, and I know everyone knows what they’re doing. Just pretend that this is another practice, and there’s no one out there watching.”

  “There is no one out there watching,” said Doug, dressed in the stable boy’s outfit. “They’ve all left.”

  It was hopeless. I’d lost them. It was time to go back out.

  “Please, can we all just put everything we have into this last scene? We have to get through this, and it’s all over. Let’s at least give ourselves a reason to hold our heads up after this.”

  I didn’t know whether I’d reached them or not. Despite the showing so far, I had faith that everyone had at least some talent or enthusiasm left in them. I’d seen it in rehearsals, and I knew that if everyone pulled together, we could knock the scene out of the park.

  It was a disaster.

  The final scene was a perfect representation of the script itself—many-layered, very clever, and a delicate balance of elements that when done well would be the perfect end and bring hordes to their feet in applause.

  By the end of the scene, it was all I could do not to run off the stage and cry.

  I held it in and finished the last few lines. When the curtains closed, all I felt was relief. There was near silence on the other side, and the curtain boy didn’t bother opening it back up for bows. The cast already peeled off to backstage.

  It’s finally over.

  I knew it might be bad. I didn’t in my worst nightmares imagine it could be that awful.

  That’s it. I’m done.

  I’d thrown myself into the play with reckless abandon, sacrificing schoolwork, family time, friendships, and parts of the college experience for what? So I could be a laughingstock and forever have this shameful experience under my belt?

  What was it John said? Life is just a series of experiences. Good and bad are a matter of perspective and frame of reference.

  It was hard to see how I would ever look back on this one and label it anything other than bad.

  “Come on, Leah, smile a little,” I said. “I know the play wasn’t the big success we had hoped for, but you were incredible, and no one could deny that. Surely that’s something.”

  She knocked back the rest of her beer and waved the waitress down for another. “That doesn’t even matter, Chris. Do you think a year from now anyone who sees I was in this play will know that I was amazing, if that’s even the case? They weren’t there, they won’t have seen it. They’ll just know how awful it was and the extent to which it crashed and burned. It’ll go down as one of the worst ever, I’m sure of it.”

  “Oh, honey.” Tyra sat on Leah’s other side and gave her a big hug. “I know it sucks now, but you’ll grow from this. You know what it’s like to work with bad actors now and have to just take what you can from the experience and move on.”

  “I don’t want to think about anything. I can’t believe I have to keep showing up there for the rest of the production run.”

  “Hey,” I said and tilted her head up for a kiss. I reveled in the freedom to act on those impulses, no longer worried about what it might mean or who I might offend. “We’re back at Swim and it’s a Thursday night, just like when we first met.” The DJ had just begun his set. “Why don’t we dance to take your mind off it? You’ll feel a lot better if you get your body moving instead of sitting here dwelling on it.”

  “I’m not in the mood, Chris,” Leah replied. Even just pointing out the music had made her sit up straighter and take notice. Her body moved subtly in time with the beat as it almost always did when her favorite kind of music played.

  “You know what will get you in the mood for dancing?” I asked. She shook her head. “Dancing. Come on, I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  “Go on, Leah, you deserve some fun. Just forget everything for now,” Tyra said. “I’ll hold down the table.”

  She had no choice, which was the whole point. I stood and held out my hand, staring at her until she finally laughed and took it.

  “You dick. You don’t care what I want, do you?”

  I pulled her tight against me. “I care about what you need, Leah.” The kiss I gave her was harder and deeper than the last one, and I felt her respond against me. “Now let’s go dance.”

  The floor was busy, but it wasn’t as packed as the first night we had met. Leah had put on a tight dress that showcased her curves, and it was as though she had a spotlight on her as she moved her body. More than a few guys nearby took notice with appreciative looks, and I stepped forward to mark my territory.

  Leah wrapped her hands around my back as we danced close. Her hips rocked under my palms and I followed her body’s lead.

  As time went on, Leah’s movements became more fluid. The music flooded through us as it always seemed to. It was the soundtrack of our romance, the thing that had brought us together and drove us to new heights with one another.

  Time didn’t matter—all I cared about was the firecracker in my arms and the smile on her face as she let go and enjoyed herself.

  She put her mouth to my ear. “Do you want to go back to your place?” She bit her lip when she looked at me.

  My body’s response was immediate and urgent. How could it not be when those green eyes bore into me like that, wanting and demanding more?

  I nodded and let her lead me back to our table.

  Tyra was still there, but no longer alone. She made out with a tall, well-dressed man, the two enraptured by each other.

  Leah smacked her friend’s ass to get her attention. “Chris and I are heading out!”

  Tyra barely looked as she gave a thumbs up and went back to her make out partner.

  Leah and I shared a grin. Some things would never change.

  The air was cool and refreshing after the intense dancing amidst the crowds inside.

  “Remember the first night we met?” Leah asked. “I couldn’t believe I was leaving with you. You know, once we got out of there and I could barely hear the music, I was about to tell you it was a mistake and just go home by myself.”

  “Really?” I asked. “What changed your mind?”

  She laughed. The sound drifted among the typical city soundscape. “You did. When you shoved me against the wall and kissed me so I couldn’t refuse.”

  We’d already walked past the wall I’d used the last time, but I knew an invitation when I heard one. I pulled her around the corner just inside the entrance to the closest alley and pushed her back against the brick.

  She ran her hands up my back as I kissed her.

  “Well, well, what do we have here?”

  I jumped at the voice. It sounded familiar. I pulled away from Leah, her eyes confused and looking past me.

  When I turned, a fist caught me in the gut and a shove sent me tumbling over a metal chair. I couldn’t speak, could barely think as hot waves of agony coursed through me. There was no time to recover as someone kicked me, crashing into my chest and rolling me onto my back.

  Leah screamed, the sound penetrating the fog that swept over my mind. “What are you doing to him? Stop!”

  There were at least three attackers taking turns kicking, bruising every part of my body. All I could do was bring my arms up to protect my head, but that left the rest of me exposed for the beating.

  Leah continued to shout and scream until her voice cut off.

  “Shut the fuck up!” I placed the voice. Derek. “We’re just giving him what he deserves. And a pretty little thing like you, I’ll give you what you deserve, too.”

  That motherfucker!

  The legs stopped kicking me, and I fought to see as I coughed and tasted blood. Derek was wearing a mask, but I knew it was him. He had an arm around Leah’s mouth and head, muffling her and holding her a
gainst him as his other hand tore at her dress.

  “Help me out here, guys,” he said, and the two who had been beating me ran over to grab Leah’s limbs and hold her. She struggled as hard as she could, but there wasn’t much she could do against three men who were bigger and stronger than her.

  The panic in her wide open eyes was devastating as she looked at me lying on the ground.

  Leah!

  My breath was a faint hiss as I drew air in through my teeth, my jaw clenched against the pain that rocked my body. It took all the effort I could summon to push my arm against the ground and get my elbow underneath me.

  She needed me. I couldn’t let her down. I gritted my teeth so hard they were on the verge of exploding and struggled to get to my feet.

  With the help of his friends, Derek pulled Leah’s dress up to her stomach despite her efforts to resist.

  I didn’t bother warning the men to get away from her—they didn’t deserve it. I grabbed the chair they’d shoved me over earlier. It was a sturdy thing, thick metal frame and wooden seat and back. Lots of mass.

  The closest one held Leah’s right side until the chair collided with his skull so hard that he dropped like a stone.

  Suddenly with a free arm and leg and her captors surprised by the felling of their comrade, Leah kicked herself free and backed away, behind me.

  I continued my assault before I lost the advantage of surprise, swinging hard and narrowly missing Derek’s face.

  It was a standoff. I couldn’t lunge after one of them without opening myself up to an attack from the other. The chair was too unwieldy to be effective against two of them. Neither one of them wanted to be the first to go against the massive weapon I held.

  The real question was if Derek had brought his gun and whether he was willing to use it.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Derek said.

  “What about Tim?” I thought I recognized the voice, but didn’t have enough to place it.

  “Fuck it, I’m not dragging his limp ass all the way back. Let’s go.”