by Kim Linwood
I pour a glass of what’s left of the wine from dinner, then turn and lean against the counter while drinking it. Today’s been ridiculous. I need to get away a while, at least if Gavin’s going to be hanging around. I so can’t deal with him on a regular basis.
That’s when I spot them, lying on top of the recycling. Two crisp, shiny tickets, about to go to waste. Snagging them quickly, I examine closer. The ship leaves tomorrow night and comes back about two weeks later. All inclusive. Exclusive cruise. A top floor suite. My mind starts to whirr.
Herbert’s already forgotten about the tickets, of course. I knew he was money, but I still can’t believe how he’ll just throw away something that most people would think of as the vacation of a lifetime. We’re not exactly poor, but we’ve always had to save for everything. Meanwhile, he’s on another planet where money doesn’t matter.
I guess if they get married, we’ll be like that too, but it feels like cheating, somehow. Not that I’m going to med school for the money, but I always considered a high income one of the perks. Well, I’m not going to mooch off him either way. I’ll make my own freaking money. I’ve got my self-respect.
What I don’t have though, is a summer job. There’s nothing tying me down, and Paul’s not working either. Wonder what he’d say to a fancy cruise. Since the whole Gavin thing, I’ve been kind of avoiding him and I can tell it’s pissing him off. Having our first time onboard a luxury cruise has got to be make up for something, right?
So maybe I’ll mooch just a little.
Palming the tickets, I get up and rush to my room to call him, already digging my cell out of my pocket. We’re going on a cruise!
Chapter 5: Gavin
Fuck, I’ve had to piss since I got here. I knew I forgot something when I was getting the wine stains out. This politeness shit grates on my nerves, but while Dad tolerates me—under doubt—most of the time, he’d cut me off completely if I did anything to fuck up family night with his fiancée. I don’t know what he’s expecting me to do, but he’s been so damn uptight about tonight that I’m tempted to go out there and be the asshole he apparently thinks I am.
I take my time, in no rush to get back to the lovebirds. Or Angie. Fucking Angie. Like I needed another reason to think about her, when it’s all I’ve been doing for the past three weeks. Why? No idea.
Maybe because she’s the first girl to turn me down, leaving me blue-balled and alone. Usually I’m the one that’s doing the running, but she left me high and dry. Didn’t even look back. She’s drop-dead fucking gorgeous, of course, but so are most of the girls I fuck. Or fucked. After that night, my heart hasn’t been in it. Three weeks is the longest I’ve gone in years. What’s so fucking magical about her pussy?
Other than the fact that I haven’t been in it.
Is it really that simple? I just want what I can’t have? That would be nice, because I know the cure, and it’s between her legs. But the whole stepsister thing? That was a surprise and a fucking half. I’m supposed to stop noticing how hot she is just because our parents are screwing? No way. Just gets me harder. There’s something seriously hot about the idea of bending my brand new stepsister over her bed and fucking her silly. Hell, if our parents are downstairs, that’s just bonus.
Alright, gotta think of something else, or I’ll be fucking standing here all night, waiting for my hardon to ease up. There’s always my hand, I guess, but after three weeks, my hand and me are really getting to know each other way too well. At least we’re thinking about the same girl.
It’s tempting, but no way. I’m not going to jerk off in their ratty old bathroom like a loser. Maybe I’ll go out after this and get laid. Find someone, fuck them and move the hell on.
I tuck myself in, zip up, wash up, and head back to the living room.
Where no one is. Great. I don’t even want to know what Dad and my newest in a long line of stepmoms are up to in the kitchen. Let her dig for her gold. Angie was the only entertaining thing here. Where’d she go? Sitting around alone sounds boring as fuck.
I hear her voice, faintly. Following it, I head up their carpeted stairs. Maybe she’s in her room. Right away, my thoughts fill with all the dirty, filthy things I’d like to do to her there. I’m imagining it all little girl still, with pink wallpaper and horse pictures on the walls. My pants feel tighter as I react to the thought of her on her hands and knees on her bed, her perfect naked ass facing me. Jesus, this girl’s gonna kill me and she doesn’t even realize it. I really need to get laid.
At the top of the stairs, I pause, listening to her sexy voice coming clearly through a partially open door. She’s on the phone, it sounds like. I probably shouldn’t be listening, but she sounds excited and I’m curious. Is she talking about me?
“No, I’m serious, Paul. A cruise, a real live luxury cruise. All paid for. I’ve already got the tickets. Just pack and meet me down at the pier tomorrow at eight. Yeah, PM. Everything’s covered.” Her voice is excited, but who’s she talking to? Paul? Friend? Boyfriend? Also, it’s hilarious that she grabbed the tickets. It’s difficult not to laugh out loud. She’s got more balls than I’ve given her credit for. Love it.
“Alright. Awesome.” Something comes into her voice, like a really sexy promise. “You totally don’t want to miss out on this trip. I think I’m ready.” She waits, listening. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I mean, and you don’t want to miss out on that, do you? I promise I’ll make up for how I’ve been acting the past couple weeks.”
I probably wouldn’t have a clue what she was talking about if we hadn’t had that episode at the club. I have a really good idea what’s caused her trouble with Paul and it’s good to know I’m not the only one hung up on that night. Fuck that noise. I gotta find out who this Paul guy is and put him off this shit. Forget finding some random girl to fuck Angie out of my system. Now it’s a competition, and I don’t lose.
I get distracted, and suddenly I’m face to face with her as she comes out her door. Shit. “Hey.”
Her tone is colder than a goddamn snowman. “What the hell are you doing up here?” She glances down the stairs, probably to make sure no one else hears. “I’m not going to fuck you, Gavin. Not now, not ever.”
“What? You’re probably a shitty lay anyway. I’d just be doing you a favor.” I don’t even mean to insult her, but she gets this look and crap comes out my mouth before I can stop it. Pisses me off too, because suave is what I do best.
Fucking hell, I never imagined she could look that angry. She blanches and her eyes turn into slits. I’m half expecting to see smoke coming out of those cute little ears. She lifts her finger and pushes it right into my chest. “You’re a fucking asshole.” It sounds so sexy when she says it. “I’m going to do my best to tolerate you, since it sounds like our parents are getting hitched, but I swear, if you don’t stop following me around, I’ll get a freaking restraining order, regardless of what our parents think. Clear?”
I back off. We both know she wants me, but I’m not stupid enough to push again tonight. “Clear as crystal. I’m sorry.”
“What?” She actually looks confused for a second.
“I said I’m sorry. I was out of line.” See? I can do polite.
Confusion turns to suspicion. “Since when do you apologize?”
“It happens. Don’t get too used to it.” Why does everyone assume the worst of me?
She sighs. “Alright. Fine. Thanks. Can we go back downstairs now?”
“Sure.” I let her go first, if only so I can watch her ass swing on the way down. “So who’s Paul?”
She stops, but doesn’t turn. “Seriously? You’re listening in on my phone calls?”
“I can’t help it if you’re a screamer. Sorry. Didn’t know you were on the super-secret red phone to the president.” Okay, so maybe I’m a bit of an asshole. But she loves me, she just doesn’t know it yet.
She starts to walk again. “For your information, he’s my boyfriend.”
For now. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. So there’s another reason for you to keep your hands off me.” There’s acid dripping from that voice.
“So... where was Paul when my hands were all over you?”
“I told you that was a mistake.”
“Alright, alright.” Sighing, I back off. “So what’s this guy like? Big and buff? Sweeps you off your feet? Makes you feel like a princess?”
She laughs. “What? Jealous? Yeah, he’s good looking. He wants me for me. Not just because I, in a serious lapse of judgement, threw myself into his arms at some scuzzy club.”
“Sounds lame.” We’re back in the living room, but still no sign of our parents. I don’t even want to know. “How’d you meet him?”
Angie’s pale skin flushes. “Actually, it was at a scuzzy club.” She gives me a pointed don’t-you-dare-judge look. “But he stuck out from the crowd. Tall, sexy. Gorgeous green eyes. He’s got a scar down his face, but it only adds to the look, you know. Makes him seem a little dangerous.”
Scar down his face? Paul? Shit. “Paul Cartman?”
Her jaw drops as she stares at me in surprise. “Are you following me around or something? Should I be getting a restraining order?”
“Jesus, no. It’s just that I know him. Well, know of him. That’s all.” I know of him alright. Like how he’s got his nose full of fucking cocaine more often than not. And that he’s got at least one more girl. Violet, I think her name is. He’s fucking scum, and Angie’s too fucking good for him. That makes this easy. I won’t even feel bad when I fuck her right out from under his powdery nose.
My face must have shown something of what I was thinking, since she looks at me curiously. “Why? Something I should know about him?”
“What? Nah, nothing. Don’t worry about it.” My hands are already clenching and unclenching. I’d better get out of here. “Listen, I need to jet. If our parents ever surface, could you tell them I had to go?” I shrug. “Just realized I had somewhere to be.”
She looks at me with suspicion, but seems just as happy to see me leave. “Yeah, okay.”
I feel kind of successful. That’s about the most civil bit of conversation we’ve had so far. “Don’t get too sentimental, now. I’ll be back to feel you up in no time.” Or not.
“I can’t wait.” Her voice could freeze over the Sahara.
“Of course you can’t. I’m irresistible like that.” I get the hell out of there before she can respond. I’ve got a face to pound.
Chapter 6: Angie
It’s almost eight thirty. Where the hell’s Paul? We should be boarding now. I look over at the ticket guy apologetically. Not that he seems to care. I guess it doesn’t matter to him whether we make it onto the boat or not.
An angry roar echoes off the warehouses along the water. Wait, is that him? A motorcycle pulls up, screeching into the parking lot like it’s in a car chase. The rider’s tall, broad and definitely not Paul. He looks like someone else I know, though. I wait impatiently while he locks the bike and pulls his helmet off.
Yep, it’s who I think it is. My step-albatross.
“Hi.” Gavin’s wearing his trademark smirk.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Paul couldn’t make it. So I offered to take his place.” He looks way too satisfied with himself. That can’t be good.
“What did you do?” I step closer, ready to... to do what, exactly? Chew him out, I guess, but somehow I doubt he’ll care.
“Me? Nothing. We just discussed, is all. He realized he had other commitments, and I realized that you wouldn’t be able to get on your cruise without me.” He hefts his suitcase. “So here I am. Ready to do anything to help out family.”
Alright, now I know something’s up. “What do you mean, not able to leave without you?”
“How closely did you look at the tickets?” The corners of his eyes crinkle with amusement.
“Closely? Depends. What do you mean?” I pull them out of my pocket and look over them. They look identical except different serial numbers. Top deck suite, everything covered, have to be at the dock by 8:45 PM, both tickets in the name of Herbert Caldwell.
Gavin waits while I read, but eventually he runs out of patience. “Red text, just under Dad’s name.”
The red text is in thin print and hard to make out. Whoever thought red as a text color on a dark blue background made sense was an idiot. I peer closely with an impatient sigh.
ID required.
Crap.
I look up at Gavin, wrinkling my nose at the know-it-all look on his face. “So how are you supposed to save the day? Newsflash, you’re not your dad.”
“No, that’s true.” He gets his wallet out of his jeans, tugs out a card and hands it to me. It’s his driver’s license. Gavin Herbert Caldwell. “But I share his name.”
I giggle. “Herbert? You?” Sometimes you learn something new about someone that totally alters your idea of who they are. I have no idea why his middle name should be something like that, but for some reason Herbert doesn’t match at all in my head with who Gavin is. My giggles turn to laughter. World view: rocked.
“Yeah, yeah, very funny. Give me my license back.” There’s a tone of childish annoyance in his voice that only gets me laughing harder. I bet he was one of those kids who never admitted his middle name in school. I’ve suddenly found a vulnerable spot, a chink in his armor, and that’s really satisfying. He reaches out and pulls the piece of plastic from between my fingers. “It’s a fucking middle name. Get over it.”
“Yeah, sure... Herbert.” I break down again, my gut hurting. I don’t even get why it’s so funny anymore, but now I’ve got a serious case of the giggles.
“You know what? Maybe I’ll just go alone.” With another quick grab, he nabs the tickets right out of my hand and picks up his suitcase. “More room for me in the bed anyway.”
I look up quickly. “Hey, wait. You’re not leaving me here now.” I’ve barely left town before, much less gone on a luxury cruise. There’s no way I’m letting this opportunity pass me by, even if I have to do it with my asshole stepbrother instead of my boyfriend. I’ll totally make it up to Paul when I get back, I swear. Grabbing my suitcase, I rush up the ramp to the ship. “Wait for me!” Gavin doesn’t even turn, but he’s not walking particularly quickly either. I catch up easily.
“Oh, you decided to come. Going to behave?” He talks over his shoulder, not even turning to look at me.
“I won’t make fun of your name anymore.” That’s about as much as I can promise. I’m not letting him walk all over me.
“Not what I asked, but whatever. I’ll take it.” A few words and a flash of his license later, and we’re onboard. The hum of the engines warming up dominates everything, making the deck vibrate beneath my feet.
I gawk. This is my first time on something bigger than a small sailboat. I can hardly tell I’m on a ship at all, and not just in a particularly rumbly hotel. A fancy rumbly hotel. Everything’s a mixture of polished wood, white and gold, sleek trim and minimal lines. A dash of deep red here and there.
We’re standing in a reception area where stewards in fancy white uniforms wait for something to do, their eyes scanning the passengers like a little flock of hyenas. Probably deciding who’s likely to give the biggest tips. A line of guests in much fancier dress than me stand ahead of us, getting checked in as quickly as the frazzled desk clerk can process them.
I glance at Gavin, who’s looking everywhere but me. Dressed casually too, he makes me feel less like the odd girl out. Worn jeans, though I’m sure they’re designer something or other. A plain black t-shirt, his biker jacket thrown over his shoulder and leather motorcycle boots on his feet. We get a few looks, but whatever. What are they going to do? Throw us off the ship?
He turns to me and catches me watching him. With a grin, he puts his arm around my waist and pulls me close, making me squeak. “Oh Marie,” he says, using Mom’s name. “I can’t wait until we get hitched.” He leans in to give me a k
iss, but I dodge it. “Oh, come on, babe.”
I sigh dramatically. “Not until we’re married, Herbie.” At first he frowns at the nickname, but it quickly turns to a laugh. He’s enjoying this game way too much. And so am I. For now, we’re in on this together, and it's kind of fun.
He whispers to me loudly, but I don’t think anyone else can hear, “I’ll have to settle for dreaming of you on our wedding night. On all fours, with your gown up around your waist.” He leans closer. “Just waiting for me.”
“Well, keep dreaming, since that’s as close as you’ll ever get.”
He laughs again. “We’ll see about that.”
I’m about to throw another retort his way when a voice speaks up. “I tell you Mabel, liners these days wouldn’t know luxury if it bit them in the ass. Making us stand in line, of all things. Remember back when we were young? When the only pause before a steward showed us to our suite was to pick up a cocktail?” The voice is worn with age, but clear and loud. Also it’s right behind us. I peek over my shoulder.
The woman who spoke looks old enough to be my great-grandmother, but she stands tall and her eyes are sharp, scanning the reception critically. Stylish and slim, she carries herself like she’s half her age, though that’s still old enough to be my mom. Her mouth is a slim straight line as she examines the line in frustration.
“Do you think the—the buffet is open, Joyce?” Standing next to her, hunched over a walker is her companion, who I assume is Mabel from Joyce’s tirade. Contrary to her friend, Mabel looks her age, crooked and bent, clutching her handles with shaking hands. Her floral dress, while probably expensive, hangs loosely.
Joyce huffs noisily. “I’m sure it will be soon. Though if the line doesn’t start moving faster, I do believe we may meet our end here, Mabel. It’s all over.” Her tone moves smoothly from frustrated to melodramatic. I’d say she was bitchy, but then I see the way her eyes soften when she looks at her friend, and how she’s supporting her while they wait. She’s just impatient, and this waiting isn’t easy for Mabel.