Stepbrother Demands

by Chloe Hawk

  “Yes,” I said. “They were fine.”

  “Fine?” She laughed, a tinny little laugh that echoed through the hallway. “They were Michael Kors and Marc Jacobs and … ” She trailed off and then pursed her lips and shook her head sadly, like there was no way I could understand the importance of such expensive clothes. “How long will you be in the city?” Kalia asked.

  I opened my mouth to say I was just leaving, but before I could, Cole said, “Avery’s staying. She’s going to be working here.” He came up behind me and put his hands on my shoulders.. “She’s going to be my second assistant.”

  Kalia’s mouth dropped open, and as much as I hated Cole in that moment, I had to admit that I liked seeing her get flustered, since she’d seemed so put together and in control just a moment ago.

  “Your second assistant?” she asked.

  “Yes. The company is growing, and with the upcoming IPO, you’re going to be needing some help. So Avery’s going to be helping you.”

  “That’s wonderful news,” Kalia said. She pasted a big fake smile on her face. Her teeth were white and straight, the kind of teeth you either bought or inherited because of perfect genes. I was willing to bet it was a combination of both. “I’ll be happy to show you the ropes.”

  “If you’ll excuse us, Kalia, Avery and I were just about to finish going over her job responsibilities.”

  “Okay,” Kalia said. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

  She turned and walked away, obviously not used to Cole dismissing her. The sound of her stilettos on the marble hallway echoed through the office.

  I tried to move past Cole, but he stepped in front of me and closed the door. “What the fuck was that?” I demanded. Why’d you tell her I was working for you?”

  “Because you are,” he said. “You’ll be my second assistant.”

  He said it smoothly and confidently, like he hadn’t just been fingering me on his desk a second earlier before pulling away and tossing me aside like I was some kind of toy he’d grown bored with.

  “Oh, hell no, I’m not,” I said. “Are you insane?”

  “Are you?” He looked at me, his eyes blazing. “You can’t go back to that hellhole, Avery. Especially not now.”

  “I’m not going back there,” I said, raising my chin and daring him to contradict me. “I’ll find an apartment.”

  “Oh, yeah?’ he countered. “You will? With what money?”

  “I’ll use my money from my job at the drugstore.”

  “Get real,” he said. “That’s not going to be enough money to support yourself, not if you don’t want to be living in the ghetto.”

  “What’s wrong with the ghetto?” I asked. “And you don’t need millions to support yourself, Cole. A lot of people get by on much less, in case you’ve forgotten.”

  “Right. Is that what you were doing at that strip club, Avery? Getting by?” He shook his head. “No. You’re not going back to Jersey. You can’t live in that house, and I don’t trust you to be able to take care of yourself without getting into trouble.”

  I laughed. “Oh, now you’re worried about me? After you left me in that house, all alone, not even a goodbye, not even a ‘hey, Avery, maybe you can come visit sometime’, not a phone call or an email or a text? Just a big fuck you to all of us. To me.”

  He crossed the room then in two long strides, pushing his body back up against mine. “I told you that’s not how it happened.”

  “It is how it happened, Cole,” I said. My voice broke, and I hated that I was showing him how upset I was. “You just…you left me.”

  I couldn’t help it. I started crying then, and he pulled me toward him, enveloping me in his arms. I hated that I liked it, hated how safe and protected I felt now that he was holding me. I hated that I suddenly felt like I needed him, after I’d spent years trying to prove to myself that I didn’t.

  “Avery,” he whispered, stroking my hair. “I had to leave. It had to be that way. I’m not good for you.”

  “You’re not good for me?” I asked. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  He shook his head slightly, like he didn’t want to go there. But that was too bad. He was going to have to. “What does that mean, Cole?” I pressed. “What does that mean, you’re not good for me?”

  “There are certain things about me that I couldn’t subject you to.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said. “And honestly, it sounds like a load of bullshit, one of those things people say when they’re trying to justify some shitty thing they did. If there’s something about you that you don’t like, Cole, can’t you just change it?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “No, I can’t change it, Avery. Trust me.”

  “I don’t trust you,” I said, and I could feel myself starting to get emotional again, could feel the tears filling my eyes.

  “Good.”

  “Good?” I repeated. “Good? You know, Cole, you’re really –”

  The phone on his desk buzzed, and Kalia’s voice buzzed through the speaker. “Mr. Buchanan?” she asked briskly.

  Cole walked over to his desk, pushed the button on his phone. “Yes?”

  “There are two policemen here to see you.”

  Cole frowned. “Policemen?”

  “Yes, sir. They said they have some questions for you.”

  “Questions about what?” Cole demanded.

  “They didn’t say.”

  “Well, find out.”

  “One moment.”

  Cole and I sat there in silence, the tension filling the room. We’d been through the police coming to our house enough growing up, answering the door to find them lugging Gordon’s drunk ass up the stairs, or telling us to keep it down because of a noise complaint.

  But this was different.

  We were kids then, and the police were coming to talk to our parents.

  Now we were adults, and the police were coming to talk to Cole.

  The phone buzzed again and Kalia’s voice came over the line. “They’d like to ask you some questions about Avery Buchanan.”

  My heart sank. They were here to ask about me. Which meant Gordon was behind whatever the police were here to talk to Cole about.

  “Thank you, Kalia,” Cole said. “I’ll be right out.” He pushed the button again and ended the connection.

  “Lie, “ I said.

  “What?”

  “You have to lie. I’ll back you up. Say you never punched him, say you weren’t even –”

  “I’ll do no such thing,” Cole said. “If my father wants to get me arrested for assault, by all means, let him try.” He shook his head. “But trust me, he doesn’t care about me. Not enough to try and get me arrested.”

  “He doesn’t?” I asked, puzzled.

  “No.”

  “Then what does he care about?”

  “Money. And you.”

  He turned and walked through his office door, and I stood there for a moment, trying to connect my bearings. And then, after a moment, I followed him.

  ***

  There were two policemen waiting in the lobby, both of them on the younger side, probably in their early 30s. They were NYPD, not cops from my little town in New Jersey, and the sight of the NYPD logo that was embossed on their baseball hats filled me with trepidation.

  “Mr. Buchanan,” the first cop said, holding his hand out to shake Cole’s hand. “I’m Officer Freidman, and this is Officer Marks.”

  Cole nodded his head and took the officer’s outstretched hand, but he didn’t give them a smile or greeting.

  “Mr. Buchanan, we got a report about your sister, Avery Buchanan,” Officer Friedman said. “We were told that you caused a disturbance at her residence and she took off under some duress.”

  “What?” I blurted, before I realized none of them had been talking to me. “That’s ridiculous. I’m Avery Buchanan, and I’m not in any duress.” What were they talking about? Did they think Cole had forced me to leave
with him, that he’d kidnapped me or something?

  “Avery,” Cole said, his voice even. He shot me a warning look, and I could tell what he meant. Shut up. The first rule of dealing with law enforcement – anything you said could and would be used against you. So you never gave the cops anything, because you couldn’t be sure what information they actually knew, and what information they were hoping to trick you into giving them.

  “You’re Avery Buchanan?” Officer Marks asked, speaking for the first time. He had blue eyes and a full head of dark curls.

  “Yes,” I said. “And as you can see, I’m fine.”

  I watched as his eyes took me in, his gaze lingering on the splint on my wrist, the fact that I was dressed in casual clothes that were too tight instead of the professional attire everyone else here was wearing.

  “Can I speak with you for a minute, Avery?” Officer Marks asked, giving me a friendly smile. “Is there a place I can speak with Avery alone?” he asked Cole.

  “Of course,” Cole said smoothly, gesturing to the doors we’d just come through. “There’s a conference room down the hall on the left.”

  Once we were in the conference room, Officer Marks turned serious. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I gave him a smile and hoped my face didn’t look too puffy from crying.

  “What happened to your wrist?”

  “Oh,” I said, looking down at it. “I fell.”

  “You fell?”

  “Yes. Yesterday.”

  “How did you fall?” he asked. He took off his NYPD hat, and his tone was now casual and light. It was obvious he was trying to make me feel like I could trust him, that I could tell him if Cole was holding me against my will or hurting me.

  “I slipped on some water.”

  He nodded, seemingly accepting this, but I could see the doubt in his eyes. He was still looking at my wrist, and his gaze traveled up my arm to where there were red marks from the way Cole had been grabbing me earlier.

  I crossed my arms over my chest. “Did my stepfather say Cole hurt me or something?” I asked. “Because it’s not true.”

  “Your stepfather was very concerned about you,” he said. “He was confused as to why you would take off for New York, leave your life and your job back home.”

  I almost laughed out loud. This guy had been snowed. Of course, I couldn’t really blame him. Gordon had probably made a call to the police in New York, police who had no idea who he was. Back in Jersey, he wouldn’t have been able to act like he was so worried about me, because the cops would have seen right through it. They knew he didn’t give a shit about me or my mom or Cole.

  “Is that what he said? That I left my life and job back home?”

  “Yes. And with your brother’s past record, we –”

  “Stepbrother,” I interrupted him. “And what record?”

  “Your brother’s criminal record. The breaking and entering, the burglary…” He trailed off. “You did know about that, didn’t you?”

  “Of course,” I lied. Cole had a criminal record? Since when? And why hadn’t he told me about it? “But I can assure you I’m fine.” As much as I wanted to ask more questions about Cole’s record, I knew it would just bring more problems. I didn’t owe the police anything. They were here trying to make it seem like Cole had done something nefarious to me, when in reality, he’d saved me.

  “Okay,” Officer Marks said, shrugging like it was nothing to him. But I could see right through his casual attitude. I’d dealt with enough social workers and authority figures to know they sometimes acted like they didn’t care if you told them something in an effort to get you to tell them something.

  Officer Marks reached into his pocket and pulled out his card, handed it to me. “Here’s my card,” he said. “Call me if anything changes.”

  “Thanks,” I said, taking it. “But it won’t.”

  He opened the door to the conference room and I followed him back through and down the hallway. When we got back to the lobby, Cole was talking to the other officer in a low voice. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but I could tell from his tone he was annoyed.

  “All set?” Cole asked when he saw us.

  “Yes,” I said, making sure to keep my voice firm just in case the cops got any ideas about hanging around and asking more questions.

  But fortunately, they didn’t. Instead, hey thanked us for our time and then left.

  As soon as they were gone, Cole turned to the receptionist, who had been standing there pretending not to be eavesdropping as she answered calls.

  “Hold my calls, Jacinda,” Cole said.

  “Even – ”

  “Yes, Jacinda.”

  Cole disappeared back through the heavy oak doors into the hallway, and I followed him. But before we could get to his office, he turned around.

  “Go home, Avery.”

  I swallowed. “Home?”

  “Back to my apartment.”

  Relief flooded through me at the idea that he still wanted me to stay with him. But I tamped it down. I needed to stay away from him, especially after what had just happened – not only had we hooked up in his office, but now cops had been sniffing around. Things were getting out of control. “I don’t think that’s a good –”

  “Jesus, Avery!” he said. “Knock off your shit. My father is obviously planning something, and you need to stay safe until we figure out what it is.”

  “And you think I’m safe with you?”

  “And you think you’re not?” He gave me an expectant look, daring me to contradict him. And the thing was, I couldn’t. I didn’t think Cole was going to hurt me. I wasn’t sure why, since he’d obviously just been screwing with me back in his office, but still, deep down, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.

  “I’m not sure.”

  “Avery. Go. Back. To. My. Apartment.”

  And then he turned around and walked down the hall, leaving me staring after him.

  ***

  I did what he said. I didn’t want to, but I had no choice.

  You do have a choice. You always have a choice. You could have left home a while ago if you’d really wanted to, but you stayed because of your mom. You don’t have to go to Cole’s, you could find a job and an apartment and a roommate. You could go to a homeless shelter if you really needed to.

  The thoughts swirled around my head, forming a cloud of confusion that kept leading me back to the same conclusion – that I wanted to be here with Cole. It made no sense, but it was the truth.

  The doorman in the lobby of Cole’s building was expecting me, and I used the key Cole had left with him to let myself in. The apartment felt different now, quieter, and I dropped my purse onto the leather ottoman in the foyer and made my way to the kitchen.

  I opened the refrigerator, suddenly starving.It was stocked with freshly cut fruits and vegetables, organic deli meats, fresh-pressed juices, and plastic containers of salad. I wrinkled my nose. Since when had Cole become such a healthy eater?

  I abandoned the fridge and headed for the panty, where I was able to rustle up a box of organic chocolate cookies. They definitely weren’t Oreos, but they’d have to do. I poured myself a glass of almond milk and settled myself onto the couch.

  I was halfway through the box of cookies and an episode of some mindless reality show when Cole came walking into the apartment.

  “Oh,” I said when I saw him. I stood up and brushed the crumbs off of my shirt, suddenly self-conscious about the fact that he was here. “Shouldn’t you be at work?”

  “This is my apartment, Avery,” he said. “And I work for myself. So I can be wherever I want.”

  “Oh,” I said. “No, I didn’t mean that you couldn’t be here. I just wasn’t expecting you to be home so quickly.”

  “I left early.”

  “Because of me?”

  “No. Because I have an event to attend tonight.” He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t push him on it. He looked at the open box of cookies in my hand
. “Is that what you’re having for lunch?”

  “No. I mean, yes, I was eating cookies. But it was just a snack. I wasn’t having them for lunch.”

  “You need to eat something more substantial than that,” he says, crossing over to the refrigerator. He opened the crisper and started pulling things out, piling them onto the marble countertop.

  I shrugged. “Since when did you become such an expert in nutrition?” I asked. Cole and I grew up on a steady diet of macaroni and cheese, tater tots, and whatever generic brand chips were on sale. We washed it all down with glasses of Kool-Aid made with double the recommended amount of sugar. It was a miracle we didn’t both have diabetes.

  “Since I realized you need to keep your body healthy to have a healthy mind.”

  I frowned. “That sounds like a bunch of new age bullshit to me.”

  He grinned. “Hey, do you remember when your mom went through her spiritual phase?”

  “Oh, please,” I said, sitting down at the small table in the kitchen. “How could I forget? I got sick with strep throat and she tried to do a healing spell on me instead of taking me to the doctor. Jenny Finch’s mom had to slip me some amoxicillin when no on was looking. She put it in my milk at school.”

  “Are you serious?” Cole asked.

  “Yes. She worked as a lunch lady.”

  He shook his head and got to work chopping up chicken breasts, then pulled out a wok and set it on top of his gas stove. He turned the burner on and poured some oil into the pan. “That is insane,” Cole said. “It’s a wonder we’re not both dead.”

  “What are you making?” I asked.

  “Chicken stir fry.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Sounds boring.”

  “Not the way I do it.” He turned and glanced at me. The remark was laced with innuendo. I couldn’t tell if he’d intended it to be that way, or if I was just overreacting because of what had happened in his office.

  I remembered it, his hands in my hair, his lips on my neck, his fingers inside of me. Each scene flashed in my head, almost like it was from a movie. Him telling me I had to do what he wanted. My hands shaking as I unhooked my bra. His hands on my breasts, him grabbing at my ass as he pulled me toward him. The feel of his cock against the thin material of my panties.