RAIL ME, RIDE ME, RUIN ME: A Stepbrother Romance

by Tabatha Kiss

  He furrows his brow. “What’s that mean?”

  “She’s got one of those wife names,” I explain. “Like Sharon and Carol. Martha. I’m not saying it’s a negative thing. I’m trying to be comforting.”

  “Trying is the key word in that sentence.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes,” he smiles. “Yes, I do. And it’s working, kind of.”

  “Good,” I say. “I’m happy for you, Johnny. I am.”

  “Thank you,” he says. “And don’t worry.”

  I pause. “Don’t worry about what?”

  “We’re still going to open our bar,” he says.

  I smile. Our bar. The ultimate dream. Johnny wants a permanent venue to perform his songs in and I want to start my own business. I’ve worked the bar at Charlie’s for over five years and while I enjoy it, I’m sure I can do better. It’s what we’ve always wanted.

  “Are you sure?” I ask.

  He leans in closer. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “Trust me.”

  “Good, you pay half our rent,” I joke.

  He smiles at me.

  I rest my head against his shoulder. “If she says yes, can I be your best man?” I ask.

  He chuckles. “Yeah, sure,” he says.

  “Sweet,” I say as I raise my glass to him. He clinks his against mine and we drink together.

  I take a deep breath in and make a promise to bite my tongue the rest of the night. It takes everything in me to keep silent and not ruin his night with my real thoughts on the subject.

  “Hey, Charlie!” Johnny calls out across the bar.

  My boss pokes his bald head up and walks over to us.

  “I’m up next,” Johnny says. He holds up two fingers. “Two, please.”

  Charlie nods and grabs two shot glasses from under the bar. He fills them to the brim with tequila and sets them down in front of Johnny. I watch as my stepbrother swigs them both down lightning fast. This is his ritual, his good luck charm. Two shots of tequila before every show.

  “Thank you,” he nods at Charlie. He slides off his stool and walks across the room to the stage where a vocalist is finishing up her song.

  Johnny steps onto the stage with his acoustic guitar in one hand and the room erupts in applause. This response always brings a smile to my face. The regulars love Johnny.

  “Helloooo-” he says into the microphone. A woman up front screams.

  I wasn’t lying when I said I was happy for him. He’s my stepbrother. I want him to be happy. His happiness has always been more important to me than my own. I want him to find a girl that will love him just as much as I do.

  But Martha isn’t that girl.

  I try not to focus on that while I watch him strum his guitar. The purple pick glows below the bright stage lights, squeezed between two of his fingers.

  ***

  “Hey, Skipper…”

  I greet my orange cat as I enter the door. He meows loudly at me for once again coming home late and not leaving enough food out for him.

  “Calm down, buddy,” I say as I scratch behind his ear. “You’re a fat cat. I’d probably starve to death before you would.”

  He meows again at me, repeatedly crying out until I enter the kitchen and reach for his food bowl.

  I stumble on my kitchen mat and laugh as my vision sways back and forth. Johnny and I aren’t that young anymore and staying out drinking long past midnight is not as easy as it used to be.

  After I feed the cat, I fill a large glass full of water and sit back with my phone balanced on my knee. Johnny went over to Martha’s immediately after his show. Johnny would get there, apologize for drinking so late, then most likely wait a little while to sober up. Then he would propose to her. It seems so strange to be in the know about the whole thing. Part of me wishes he would have just told me about it afterward. Butterflies skitter about inside my belly and I take deep breaths as the nausea flies through me.

  I fall asleep on the couch until I feel a vibration against my leg.

  She said yes!

  I read the text message over and over again.

  My stepbrother is getting married. I guess that means he’ll be staying over at her place tonight.

  He’s getting married to a girl that’s all wrong for him. And I’m a coward for not telling him that.

  I roll over into a fetal position and fall asleep as Skipper makes himself comfortable on my feet.

  Chapter 2

  I force a smile and try to make my laughter sound genuine.

  I sit at a small table in a restaurant I never thought I’d be caught dead in. My stepmother, Lucy, sits next to me with a smile permanently plastered to her face. Martha and her mother sit across from us. The blushing bride-to-be holds her hand extended across the table, dangling the ring in front of Lucy’s face.

  “I’m so happy,” she says to my stepmother. “Johnny is just so perfect!”

  “I always knew he’d find a nice girl someday,” my stepmother responds to her.

  Martha’s mother, whose name I immediately forgot the second it left her lips, sits with perfect posture with her hands folded neatly upon her lap. “Thank you two so much for coming today,” she says. “I thought it would be nice for the four of us to get together before the wedding. I’m sorry we couldn’t do it sooner. Only a month away!”

  “Oh, yeah,” I say. “Quite nice.” I think about the twenty dollar bill Johnny bribed me with burning a hole in my pocket.

  “You two are the most important women in Johnny’s life,” her mother says. “And we just want to get to know you better.”

  “Well…” Martha laughs. “Second most important now!” She flashes her ring again and I fight to urge to rip her arm off and smack her with it.

  The mothers laugh with her while I smile at the visual image dancing in front of my eyes.

  “Of course, of course!” my stepmother says. She looks over at me. “It looks like you and I are being left behind, kiddo,” she pouts in my direction.

  “Maybe,” I say doubtfully.

  “And it’ll just get worse from here on out,” she continues. “Once they start having kids—”

  “Ha!” The laughter shoots out of my throat faster than I can stop it. I fall silent as soon as I realize that Martha and her mother aren’t smiling.

  “It’s not that funny, Isla,” my stepmother says.

  “Yes, it is,” I say. “Johnny hates children. He’s never having kids.”

  “Oh, that’s not true,” she argues. “When has he ever said that?”

  “He’s always said that.”

  “Things change when a man becomes a husband,” Martha’s mother says. “His priorities change. He’s not just thinking about himself anymore.”

  “Okay, sure, but we’re talking about Johnny Jordan here,” I say. “He’s literally kicked a baby before. I mean, he apologized, but—”

  “Isla, must you be so difficult?” my stepmother asks.

  “No, she’s right,” Martha says. “I mean… she knows Johnny better than anyone. She’s within her rights to speak her mind.”

  I sit back in my chair. “Um… thank you?” I say.

  “But I’ve been with Johnny for a few years now,” she continues, “and he’s matured so much.” She picks up her wine glass and takes a sip.

  “Well, he’s gotten older—” I say.

  “He wants to grow up,” she interrupts.

  “He wants to? Or you want him to?”

  “Isla!” My stepmother’s foot connects with my ankle under the table.

  “Ouch!” I say. “Listen, I’m not trying to be rude here, but if you think Johnny’s suddenly going to become Hubby-Do-No-Wrong, working nine-to-five, white picket fence, suit-wearing, average Joe, then you’re all mental. He’s a city-dwelling musician. It’s what he’s always wanted.”

  “Things change,” Martha’s mother says.

  “Fine,” I say. “But not Johnny. In fact, Johnny’s the only constant in my lif
e and he’s been that way since the day I met him. He’s had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich everyday for lunch for fifteen years.”

  “Sounds to me like you’re the only one that doesn’t want Johnny to change,” Martha says.

  “This isn’t about what I want.”

  “That’s right, Isla,” my mother says. “This is about what Johnny and Martha want, as a couple. It’s up to them and it seems like they’ve already spoken about these matters.”

  “If they’d already spoken about him ditching the city for Suburbia Land, then I’d know about it,” I say. “We live together.”

  “Then you know all about the house we picked out,” Martha says with a grin.

  I pause. “What house?”

  “Just outside the city,” she explains. “Four bedrooms. A beautiful en suite.”

  I scoff. “Johnny can’t afford that,” I say. “He could barely even afford that rock.” I can feel my stepmother’s eyes boring a hole into my brain, but I ignore it.

  “Well…” Martha shrugs her little shoulders and reaches for her wine glass again. “It was all his idea.”

  I bite my tongue. As much as arguing with Martha about silly things has brought me great joy in the past, it’s causing me great annoyance now. If all of this was true, then Johnny was keeping it from me. On purpose. He and I have never kept a secret from one another. I’ve known him for twenty years. I know everything about him.

  Or so I thought.

  I stay silent the rest of the lunch as the other ladies muse over the wedding plans.

  ***

  I glance at my phone again to check the time. It’s half past nine. Johnny was supposed to meet me here almost an hour ago.

  “Need a refill?” Charlie asks me from his spot behind the bar.

  “Sure,” I say. I lay my head against my arms.

  “Johnny not here yet?” he asks.

  “Not here yet,” I confirm.

  “Well, he’s probably just busy with the wife-to-be or something.”

  “Yeah…” I mutter. “Probably.”

  “You can clock in and get a few extra hours, if you want,” he tells me.

  “No, thanks,” I say.

  “Or…” Charlie’s eyes stare over my shoulders. “You can get those TPS reports prepared because corporate just walked in.”

  I glance up at him as he sets my fresh drink down. “What?” I ask with a furrowed brow.

  He gestures behind me. I turn around to see Johnny walking towards the bar. My jaw drops. “Holy shit,” I say. “What the hell are you wearing?”

  Johnny slides onto the stool next to me. He tries to act natural, but I know my stepbrother’s comfort level. “I believe it’s called a tie,” he says with red cheeks.

  I reach out and tug on it. “It’s actually tied. It’s not a clip-on?” I fish my fingers underneath the collar of the perfectly ironed white shirt. “I haven’t seen you like this since your mother made you dress up for our high school graduation.”

  “I had dinner tonight with Martha and her parents,” he explains. “Charlie, can I get a drink, please? Whatever she’s got.”

  Charlie nods his head and reaches for a pint glass.

  “Oh,” I say. “I now understand the costume.”

  “It’s not a costume,” he glares at me.

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Hey, you should be thanking me right now,” Johnny snaps. “I just spent the last two hours cleaning up your mess.”

  “What mess?” I ask. “I didn’t do anything.”

  “You told her I hated kids,” he says. “That I was a city-dweller…”

  “You do hate kids,” I say. “And you were born to live in the city, Johnny. We both were.”

  “I don’t hate kids.” He nods at Charlie as he sets the drink down in front of him. “And even if I did, that’s between me and her.”

  I brush a hand through the air. “It’s not a big deal. She’ll get over it.”

  “She wants me to dump you as my best man.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but it’s just too shocking. “Are you fucking serious?” I finally shout.

  “I refused. You’re welcome, by the way. And for the record —” He pauses to take a drink. “I didn’t kick a baby and I would appreciate it if you didn’t keep telling people about that.”

  “Oh, you definitely kicked that baby, Johnny,” I say.

  “He was like five years old and he shouldn’t have been walking there. But that’s not the point!”

  “What is your point then?”

  “The point is you shouldn’t be saying these things to her,” he says as he takes a drink.

  “Okay, cool. I can agree that to stop saying things to Martha if you can agree to start saying things to me again.”

  “What does that even mean?” he asks.

  “A house? A house, Johnny? Outside the city? Four bedrooms? A fucking en suite? I don’t even know what an en suite is.”

  He sighs and pushes a hand through his hair. “Look, Isla—”

  “You told me that the two of you would be finding an apartment nearby,” I interrupt. “That it was going to be a gradual thing and I would have time to find a new roommate or a new place that’s cheaper. But then I hear from Martha that you’re buying a house together next month and it was all your idea? What the fuck, Johnny?”

  “I should have told you earlier,” he admits.

  “No shit,” I say. “And where the fuck are you getting the money for a giant mansion?”

  “It’s not a mansion,” he argues.

  “Are her parents buying it or something?”

  “No…” He hesitates. “But her father is getting me a job at his office.”

  “Holy shit—” I look up. “Hey, Charlie, you were right. Corporate is here.”

  “Knock it off, Isla.”

  “No, Johnny, you knock it off. What the hell are you doing?”

  “I’m doing what I’m supposed to do, Isla. I’m growing up.”

  “You’re already a grown up,” I argue. “Just because you don’t wear ties everyday or go to wine and cheese parties doesn’t mean you’re not a grown up. You’re an independent man that’s happy and does what he wants, there’s nothing more grown up than that.”

  “I’m not independent anymore,” he says. “I have to think about Martha.”

  “No. No, you don’t. You can leave her. It’s that simple.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “You don’t want this, Johnny. I can see it in your face. I saw it the night you told me you were proposing. You don’t want this.”

  “Yes, Isla, I do want this. I want Martha. I love Martha. I want to make her happy.”

  “But at what expense?” I ask. “If you do this, Johnny, you both get everything you ever wanted… and I get the shaft.” I fall silent. Everything I’ve wanted to say to him for the last year gathers on the tip of my tongue. The alcohol lacing my system keeps me talking.

  “That’s not true,” he says.

  “You’re going marry her. You’re going to move away from the city. You won’t write music anymore because you’ll be too busy working and playing husband. You’ll knock her up and she’ll start spurting out proper little babies. We won’t see each other ever again. And we can kiss the bar goodbye.”

  “I’ll still come back here to hang out—” he begins with a weak voice.

  “I’m not talking about this bar, Johnny. I’m talking about the bar.”

  “Isla…” he whispers. There’s real pain behind his eyes, full of words he wants to say, but can’t bring himself to speak them.

  “You know I’m right about this,” I say. I shrug my shoulders and throw up my hands. “But I guess it’s up to you. It’s your life.” I slide off the stool.

  “Isla, don’t leave—”

  “You’re making a huge mistake, Johnny. I’ll just leave it at that.” I zip my jacket to the top and wave behind the bar. “Goodnight, Charlie,” I say.

 
Charlie nods in my direction as he dries a wet glass.

  “Isla, come on!”

  I hear his voice calling my name behind me, but I keep walking. Part of me — most of me — wishes that he would chase me outside and admit that I’m right. But after traveling three blocks, I realize that’s not going to happen.

  Read More of Having His Secret Baby by Tabatha Kiss!

  Text and Story Copyright © 2015 Tabatha Kiss

  All Rights Reserved.

  This is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only.

  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All characters detailed within are eighteen years of age or older.

  No characters engaging in sexual acts are blood related.