My Friend’s Sister

by Bishop, K. M.

  “Duly noted. Now please leave.”

  “If he did something to hurt you, I’ll rearrange his face. Is that what happened? What did he do?”

  I sighed. “He didn’t do anything. I want you to leave him alone. It isn’t your problem. It has nothing to do with you.”

  “Ok, well you know that I’m always here for you. If I find out differently about this guy, I’m going to kick his ass into the middle of next year.”

  “Just let it go,” I said. “This has nothing to do with you. I’d appreciate it if you’d just stay out of my personal life. Why the hell do you make it your personal mission to intrude in my life.”

  “I’m your big brother. I’m just looking out for you.”

  “We aren’t kids anymore. I don’t need anyone looking out for me. I can take care of myself.”

  “Ok, fine,” Billy said. “But don’t come crying to me when some dude turns out to be a total creep.”

  “I won’t. I do not want your help.”

  Billy closed my door and walked down the hall. I hated that he still lived at home, but we lived close enough to campus and he saved a ton of money doing so. Plus he didn’t have to give up mom’s amazing cooking and laundry services. My brother was a leach and I hated how he thought he could run my life. But in reality he was an extension of my mother and father. They came from the old school and no matter how much I tried to convince them that I was not some defenseless damsel, they refused to believe it. I think that was one of the reasons I’d always worked so hard to excel in athletics. I just wanted my family’s respect.

  I sat there working for another hour or so and then I decided to try to film something. It was fun setting up the camera, getting my green screen background ready, and then going over a few rehearsals. It was like I was getting ready to do a show. That was precisely what it was. I was in charge of creating, producing, directing, performing, and editing a show. It was a blast.

  I made sure the door was locked and that no one could really hear what I was doing. I wanted privacy, which was something I actually had in my house. My parents had a really big house and I was lucky enough to get the big guest bedroom which had its own bathroom after my brother went away to school the first year. He tried living in the dorms, but ended up partying so much that he almost got kicked out and almost lost his scholarship to play ball. So he moved back in the second semester, but I was not about to give up this sweet room. So now it was mine. And mine it would stay until I saved up enough to get my own place. I did not intend to live at home until I was twenty-two like Billy.

  I finished recording the video and watched it through a few times to check the sound quality and video quality. So far, everything was just fine. I was happy with it and I had to say that I looked pretty good on film.

  I worked for a couple of hours editing everything together. After I was done, I uploaded it and then got ready for bed. I was tired. It was late and I just wanted nothing more than to climb into bed and maybe read for a bit before I fell asleep.

  As I lay there in bed, I thought about Jeremy and if he even missed me at all. I didn’t miss him necessarily, but I did miss having someone. I missed having somebody in my life that I felt I could rely on. That was something I’d gotten used to and I wasn’t sure I would have anymore, at least not for a while. I was serious when I said I wanted to take a break from dating.

  I just didn’t want to be alone. I realized that now. I was feeling really lonely, but I wasn’t sure why exactly. It had never been hard for me to be alone before. I was pretty good at keeping my own company and in a lot of ways, I’d always preferred it. But now I was not feeling that way. I felt really tired and a little depressed.

  Was there something wrong with me? Was that why I was alone? Why would Jeremy cheat on me? I was smarter, prettier, and I knew I had a lot more going on for me than that other woman.

  No, it was his problem. Not mine. I knew that one day I would find that love that I was really searching for. It was out there…somewhere…

  Chapter Five

  Kip

  Why was I doing this?

  I had asked myself that same question a hundred times as I drove to Mallory’s on Clairmont. But yet I was doing it. I was on my way to see my father, Roger Raynes, actor extraordinaire and all around Hollywood bigshot. He was in town scouting locations for the next film he was doing with the director. So, he took it upon himself to invite me to have lunch with him. I supposed I should have been glad that my father was actually trying to have some involvement in my life, but the fact of the matter was that we did not get along. We just butted heads over every little thing.

  I knew that my father thought I would follow in his footsteps into the film business. He praised my athleticism and my ambitions to play pro football, but he always talked of me having a fall back career option. He thought that going from football to acting would be perfect for me since others had done it before. I had no such interest. I was a ball player and what I was going to do with my life after football was going to have nothing to do with show business. I could guarantee that.

  My father didn’t care. He just wanted to transform me into some cookie cutter spitting image of himself. I wasn’t that guy and it was something he would just have to get used to. Why couldn’t he just accept the fact that I had my own life and I would live it the way I saw fit?

  I pulled up in front of the restaurant. I threw my keys to the valet and walked inside to meet my father. I should have been in the gym working hard to get myself ready for the game in a few days, but a lunch with my father was more important for some silly reason. It would just be time that I was not going to get back. That was all. But maybe I’d get some good food out of the deal.

  The hostess led me to the table where my father was already sitting. This wasn’t Hollywood where everyone would right away recognize him, but that didn’t stop him from looking around everywhere hoping he might get recognized. He never would have admitted that he was doing that, but to me it was obvious. Roger had no shame. It was rather pathetic I thought.

  “Son, how are you?” Roger asked.

  “Roger, good to see you again.”

  His eyes grew annoyed. “How many times do I have to remind you to not call me by my first name? I’m your father. Have some respect.”

  “I’ll have some respect when you respect me,” I retorted.

  “Are we going to argue the entire time? Can’t we just relax and have a nice lunch?” Roger asked.

  I nodded. “Sure. We can try.”

  “Good. So, how are things with the team?”

  “Not bad,” I said.

  “Are you getting the playing time you deserve?”

  I laughed. “Yeah, you really put the fear in that stupid coach. What a moron.”

  “He is at that,” my father laughed.

  “I’m one of the best players on the team and he still acts like someone is giving him a root canal every time he puts me in to play. He hates that he can’t control me.”

  “Some people are winners and some people are losers. And some people are leaches. Your coach is two out of three.”

  I laughed and nodded. My father had hit the nail on the head.

  The waiter took our order and brought our drinks a few minutes later. My father and I did not talk much during this time. I could tell he was preoccupied with trying to make sure that the waiter knew who he was without him actually coming right out and saying it. Watching this spectacle was rather amusing to me. I wanted to point it out to my father how annoying and lame it was, but I was having too much fun watching this charade. The waiter either didn’t know who he was or really didn’t care.

  “So, how is your mother? Do you speak with her much?” Roger asked me.

  “Nah, not really. She is fine as far as I know. She is doing some photo shoot in the Caribbean for Sports Illustrated I believe.”

  “Wow, that’s terrific. Well, your mother is beautiful.”

  “So, I’m surprised you are actually
following the team this year,” I said.

  “Well, it is your last year, right? And you are getting close to nabbing that pro contract. Any scouts contacted you yet? Or is it too early in the season?”

  “Nah, there are scouts around all the time. Some of them have been following me since my freshman year. But I don’t know. They say not to get your hopes up until towards the last games of the final season because scouts like to see you with a proven track record and they want to see you develop in your game, but who knows. Sometimes it can happen after. And if it doesn’t happen at all, then I will work my ass off to become a walk on.”

  “I hear that’s pretty tough,” Roger said.

  “Oh, it’s brutal.”

  “Well, you always have a fall back,” dad said. “You can always go into acting with me. I can get you right in with my agent and probably get you a part in my next movie.”

  “Dad, I don’t want to be an actor. How do you even know I can act?”

  “It’s in the genes. Besides, you were brilliant in your junior high production of Neil Simon’s Biloxi Blues. I thought you were better in that than Mathew Broderick was in the movie.”

  “Dad, I was twelve. And you would have said that about anything that I did. I’ve got no interest in it. I don’t see it ever changing. I hate being a fake person. Sitting around the set all day waiting for them to get ready so you can say two lines over and over again. That is painful to me. Plus all the shady crap that goes along with it. No. That’s just not me. I don’t want to be Mr. Hollywood. Why can’t you get that?”

  Dad sighed. “Well, I keep hoping that one day you will mature into it and change your mind.”

  “I don’t think acting is something you mature into. I think it’s something you mature out of.”

  “That’s a silly thing to say,” Roger replied. “But anyway, moving on. How is everything else going? You have a special lady in your life? Your mother was wondering about that a while back.”

  “You talk to mom much?”

  “Oh, no. This was probably about six months ago. I just happened to run into her during the Spirit awards. But she seems concerned with some of your playboy antics and thinks a good woman in your life might settle you down some.”

  “What playboy antics?”

  “Well, your compulsive womanizing. That’s the way she put it anyway.”

  “Womanizing? No, I’m not a womanizer. In fact I am offended by the term.”

  “Then what would you call it?”

  “I’m a guy who loves to keep his options open. But a womanizer lies, he cheats, he tricks women into bed, etc. I’ve never done any of those things. I’m very up front with women that I’m not looking for anything serious. They have to be willing to accept that or else we just don’t have anything to do with each other. And why is mother so concerned with the way I live my life? I’m a grown man. She should not know this much about my sex life.”

  “Your mother is a woman, in case you forgot. She wants her son to be a respectable, nice guy. She wants to see you settling down with a great family in a few years. You know how she gets. She sees grandchildren in the mix eventually.”

  I laughed. “Mom is only forty-two. She wants grandchildren already?”

  “I don’t know, but your mother has always believed in family first. In fact, that is probably why she didn’t divorce my ass until much later than she should have. Any other woman would have.”

  “If you knew she should have divorced you, but she didn’t, then why didn’t you change your ways so that she wouldn’t?” I asked.

  “It was a different time in my life. Let’s just say that you and I are more alike than you realize. I fell deeply in love with your mother right away and we had an amazing ride, but it was too much infatuation and not nearly enough real love. I was not ready to settle down and be that man. I deeply regret it, but I lived and I learned.”

  I hated to know that my dad and I were so much alike. It was awful, actually. I was better than that, or at least that was how I liked to think I was. But maybe I was wrong. Was it possible that I would never really be able to love a woman? Or was it more likely that a woman would never really be able to love me?

  I believed the latter was more likely. I did not see myself as ever changing my ways. But I hated to think I might be more like my father than I ever knew, and my mother didn’t like seeing it either. But, oh well. She could think what she wanted.

  “I’m fine. I’m living the way I want to. Both of you need to back off. I’m not a child. I’m a grown man who will do what I want.”

  “Then maybe you can pay for your education by yourself?”

  I rolled my eyes. “My scholarship covers most of it, remember?”

  “Ah, yes. Well, lucky you are able to run with a football.”

  “And lucky you couldn’t” I sneered.

  My father’s eyes flashed angrily at me. I’d touched a nerve. My father had at one time wanted to be an athlete, but he discovered early on that he was not big enough, strong enough, or fast enough. He just didn’t have the goods. He wasn’t a total slouch, but he was nowhere near top level.

  “I lead my football team in touchdowns in high school,” Roger said. “Don’t forget about that.”

  “I did forget about it. It was high school. Everyone forgot about it.”

  “You think you are special because you were given some sort of a gift?” Roger glared at me.

  “So were you,” I said. “Or did you really take classes to become a good actor?”

  He shook his head. He knew that I was right. The man wouldn’t let up on me. Both he and my mother expected me to fall into some cookie cutter matchup of their different expectations for me and when I stood up to the both of them they got mad. That was really hard to grow up with and I was glad I’d escaped it.

  I finished lunch with my father and left the restaurant. I hoped we didn’t do this again very soon. I didn’t have time for this crap. I had so many other things to do with my time. My father was a waste of it. He would never change and I was never going to change either.

  I was almost out to my car when I noticed a man with a camera in my peripheral vision. He was blatantly taking pictures of me. I thought I saw something out the window during lunch, but I didn’t pay that much attention to it. What the hell was this? Paparazzi. Yep. They were taking pictures of my old man and of me too apparently.

  I felt the rage coming up inside of me. I wanted to break this guy apart. The lunch with my dad had riled me up a bit and now this guy was compounding the feeling. Paparazzi were scum. I hated them. I had my whole life.

  “Hey, what are you doing?” I demanded walking over to him. The guy started to take pictures of me as I did so.

  “I’m just standing here. Don’t touch me,” he said. And he continued to snap my picture.

  “Get out of my face with that damn thing!” I yelled.

  The man with the camera actually smiled and shoved the camera closer to me as he snapped pictures furiously. I closed my eyes and tried to let the anger flow through me, to release it without doing something stupid, but the click, click, click, sounds of the camera now only inches from my face were too much to bear. I had to lash out at the bastard.

  I grabbed the camera and jerked it out of his hands before I threw it to the ground and shattered it into a dozen pieces. I felt satisfied after this. It was a glorious feeling.

  “You jerk! I’m going to sue!” The man screamed at me as I walked away towards my car.

  I grabbed the keys from the valet and got into my car. Then I sped off down the street.

  I shouldn’t have done that and it was going to garner more negative attention than I really needed right now, but I was right to do it. The damn paparazzi were vipers. They were nobodies. They needed to be taken in hand and shown that they couldn’t just do what they wanted. Even if you were considered a public figure, they still needed to respect you and your privacy. I told the guy to back off and he didn’t do it. He was hoping
I’d hit him so he could have a fat lawsuit on his hands.

  My father would probably be calling me furious about this. He loved the paparazzi and the media attention. Hell, he’d probably texted his whereabouts so that anyone with a camera could be there right then to take those pictures. He was such a fame whore. It was sickening. I preferred to be left alone.

  I didn’t need this type of heat. I realized that I’d have to learn to deal with some of it after I became an NFL football player, but that was a ways off. I hoped at least.

  At the next red light I stopped and adjusted my radio station. I was in the mood for something heavy and aggressive. I found the song I liked, an old Soundgarden song and began to groove along. I wanted to get home and relax a bit before practice.

  As I was looking around I happened to notice the beautiful woman pulling up in the car next to me. She was stunning. A sweet face with long, blonde hair, pouty lips, bright, blue eyes, and a huge chest wearing a tank top that carefully showcased just how amazing her body was. I wanted to know more.

  I looked at her and waited a few seconds until she locked eyes with me. At this moment I smiled slightly, just slightly to give the indication of interest and indifference all at once. I’d discovered long ago that this was the perfect combo. After a few moments she smiled widely at me.

  I gestured for her to roll her window down. She rolled her eyes and drove off when the light turned green. I laughed and drove alongside her. This was all part of the game, all a part of the little ritual of seduction and romance. I was going to have to work for it a little bit. I’d never been afraid of a little hard work. No problem for me at all.

  At the next light, I grabbed a business card from my wallet (I believe it was a card from an accountant who had guest lectured in my business class one day) and I wrote my name, number, and email address, and physical address down with the phrase “Your move” written on it.

  Then I motioned again for her to roll down her window showing her the cared in my hand. She smiled as she started to get the idea. Then I carefully tossed it into her window before the light turned green and I drove off.