by Jamie Knight
He gives me a confused look.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
“Well, remember how I told you Grandpa Morgan likes to do contests? How wild he is about competition?” I say.
“Yeah, and it explains a lot about you!” he says with a laugh.
“Too true,” I say with a smile. “Well, Grandpa has one final challenge for us. And it’s bonkers, for sure. See, the first of his grandkids to get engaged receives the entirety of his fortune. One hundred percent of it. The losers, if you will, those who don’t find a way to get betrothed first, well, they get nothing.”
“Nothing?” he asks to confirm out of disbelief.
“Nada. Zilch. Zero. Nothing,” I confirm.
“Sounds harsh. Sounds draconian!” he says half-laughing.
“Well, that’s just how Grandpa is,” I tell him. “He must have his reasons. But since the contest is real and the stakes are so high, well, I am taking it very seriously. I have to -- no, I must win. It is imperative. Losing is not an option. I don’t want to hear one of my jackass cousins gloat about their victory forever and ever. Plus, they will just spend all the money and my whole family will be bankrupt in a year.”
Robert nods. He had met my cousins and knew what they were like. “So, what’s your plan?” he asks. “How are you going to win?”
“Well, that’s where your sister Lindsay comes into play,” I answer.
“Wait, what? My sister is now involved with this?” he asks incredulously.
“I asked her to pretend to be my fiancée,” I tell him. “And she has graciously agreed to go along with it. She’s a good kid.”
Robert frowned at me. He takes a moment to consider. I doubt he was expecting any of this. He probably just thought I was going to ask him to go see a band and get some drinks or something.
“This is surprising,” he says.
“How so?” I ask.
“The fact she would consider doing this at all. And with you, no less. You know how much she hates you,” he says.
“We can move past that,” I state plainly. “I’ll stop teasing her and this will be a chance for us to become friends. It will make life easier on you.”
I can see the wheels turning in his mind, but still, Robert frowns. “I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he says finally.
I sit back a bit, surprised. “Really? But it’s your sister. I figured you wouldn’t mind,” I tell him.
“You didn’t grow up with her, Brent. She is going to be too much trouble,” he says. “She’ll mess the whole thing up.”
“I disagree,” I say. “And I may not have grown up with her, but I have known her for years now. Sure, she’s silly and a klutz but I think Grandpa will find her endearing.”
Robert shrugs. “C’mon, Man. You can get any girl on campus to do this. So why not find someone else? Someone who would be easier to deal with,” he suggests. “Someone who doesn’t hate your guts.”
“I don’t know. Lindsay seems perfect,” I say. “Plus, as I mentioned, I know her. And there isn’t enough time now to find someone new. My cousins are breathing down my neck.”
I can see he is considering these points but needs just a little more convincing.
“And hey, this will get me to stop teasing her,” I say. “No more ‘Franny Flustered’ or other stuff like that. That will make you happy, right?”
“Wow. You really have thought this out,” he says and stands up.
“Well, I want to win,” I say. “It’s in the Morgan blood. We’re born competitors.”
“Yeah, but you like to lose races,” he says with a chuckle.
I roll my eyes. “So, what do you think?” I ask, standing and stretching a bit more.
“Well, what you say makes some sort of sense,” he says. “So yeah, you have my blessing.”
We start walking back to campus. Robert lives in the senior dorms there and it’s not too much out of the way from my apartment.
“Are you sure you’re really okay with this?” I ask to confirm. “This is going to probably take up a few months of your sister’s time.”
“I am fine with it,” he says reassuringly. “It will probably be a good experience for her. And hey, it’s not like you’re really dating her or anything like that.”
“That’s mighty cool of you,” I tell him. “I really appreciate you having my back. And I promise I will take good care of Lindsay.”
“Oh, I know you will. Otherwise, it will be more than a race you lose,” he says half-joking.
“You’re a good friend, Robert. I won’t let you down. Thank you,” I say.
We do a fist bump and head off our separate ways.
It’s a cool night. There are a few students out and about, but most have gone to their rooms for the evening. As I walk home, I have to admit I’m pretty pleased with how that all went. Robert took some convincing but, in the end, he was open to it. With his blessing I can fully dive in and focus on the task of winning the contest.
The plan should work. With Lindsay as my accomplice we can convince Grandpa Morgan that we’re in love and ready to spend the rest of our lives together. I doubt very much that Arron and Collin have gotten that far yet with their conquests. Oh, how sweet it will be to win and rub their faces in it.
And Lindsay, wow, she is something. I am still a bit buzzing from our encounter in her room. I had always thought of her just as Robert’s little sister. But I saw something different today. She’s actually quite pretty. And that body... I never really knew how hot her body was until now. I guess I never paid much attention. I was always just having too much fun teasing her to notice.
I’m so glad I got her to spill that blue slushie all over her clothes. Her face gets that adorable beet red color. And afterwards, the way she was hiding her breasts was so cute. I could see the outline of them through the towel. And the way her hips and butt looked in that skirt was intoxicating.
This pretend engagement is going to help me not only win the contest, but maintain a good friendship with Robert, and probably provide some fun times and laughter along the way. It might also have some other perks as well.
Chapter Eight
Lindsay
Four years ago…
Robert is home from his first semester in college. How he got home was rather odd. Some rich kid drove him back in his black Ferrari. I looked up what the car costs and it’s obscene. More money than I think my parents make in three or four years of work combined.
I tried to impress Robert’s friend like my parents wanted me to do. I try to be a good girl, after all. I baked a cake, but when I brought it out, I ended up tripping and getting it all over myself. Everyone started laughing and making fun of me, even the new guy, Brent. He thought I was one big joke. I was even called clumsy and a klutz.
I can’t get the image of Brent out of my head. He kept laughing.
He is handsome, but he seems like such a jerk. I hope he doesn’t end up being a bad influence on my brother.
My parent’s invited Brent to stay a few days with us. He’s spending some time around here with Robert. I am doing my best to avoid him and my brother to circumvent further potential embarrassment.
This afternoon I am minding my own business reading a book on the porch when the guys clamber out the front door. They are laughing and having a good time. They are so loud and annoying.
“Hi,” I say rather meekly, trying to be polite. “Where are you two going?”
I am actually relieved they are leaving so I can have the house to myself.
“We’re headed to the baseball field to play catch and hit some balls,” Robert says.
“Oh, well have fun,” I say.
I immediately return to my novel, looking forward to peace and quiet. I might make some fresh lemonade soon. That would be nice. The boys will like that when they come home.
Robert and Brent are standing on the sidewalk leading up to the duplex. Brent says something and turns to walk towards me. I try to keep my eyes do
wn on the novel, but I can’t help but notice how confident his stride is.
“Hey Lindsay, you want to join us?” he asks, with a handsome grin.
“Why?” I ask while looking up from my book.
Robert seems agitated. “C’mon Brent, don’t bother her,” he says. “She can’t even play sports.”
That comment annoys me. I drop my novel on the patio table, stand up and present myself.
“I will most certainly come with you,” I declare. “Thanks, Brent.”
They give me a moment to run in and change clothes. I have one pair of beat-up tennis shoes and put them on. I also have a softball mitt, but it’s barely held together. It will probably fall apart before the end of the day.
After I’m ready I run out and see they have already started walking down the street. I race to catch up with them.
“Hey guys, wait up!” I call out.
Brent turns his head back and laughs.
“Well, hurry up!” he yells back.
I finally catch up to them. It always seems I’m a few steps behind, however. Their long strides are full of power. They walk briskly down the street.
We reach the intersection and wait for some cars to roll through. I usually avoid coming this way but it’s the only direct route to the field. Several of the cars that drive by are cranking music with the bass turned up high. Brent seems a little bit concerned. He must’ve never been in a neighborhood like this before.
We cross the intersection and head down the road. Along the way Brent gets an up-close look at the run-down houses in the neighborhood. He for sure saw them when he was driving through here, but to actually be able to take time and examine them has to be eye opening. I can tell he’s trying not to stare.
Many of the houses have fences that are falling apart. Weeds are everywhere. Broken tree limbs hang precariously over roofs. No one really has the money to trim them. One strong storm through here could level everything.
I watch the rich boy’s reaction to everything. I know he has to be judging us poor people, but he holds his lips into a tight, fake smile trying not to show his disgust. But I can see it in the way his eyes crinkle.
We follow the curve in the road. Around the bend we see in the near distance the baseball field open up before us. It has clearly seen better days. The chain-link fences are full of holes. A ball could easily go through them if batted that way. I imagine it has created many frustrating situations for those trying to play here, but there isn’t any money to fix them. That’s the story of our whole town.
We enter the field and it’s even more run down than the last time I saw it. The bases aren’t in place due to thieves. They only bring them out for official games. All that is there now are holes for the umps to screw them into. But those holes are completely covered by dirt. Makes you wonder when the last official game was played here, or if there will ever be one again.
Brent is clearly shocked by the state the field is in. What a snob. I bet he gets to play sports on the most well-manicured, well-kept, beautiful fields imaginable. His locker rooms probably even have flat screen TVs installed, high-tech ice baths, steam rooms and offices for coaches and personal trainers. All we have here is a dirt field with brown grass in the outfield.
But we make do. We have our gloves, three baseballs and a bat. We can do some hitting, fielding and long toss. I don’t have much upper body strength, so it’s going to have to be short tossing for me.
Robert takes the mound as Brent heads to the plate.
“Hey, Sis,” Robert says, as he points to the outfield. “Go out in the field and shag balls, could ya?”
“Uh, okay,” I say.
I run out into the brown grass and wait for the balls to start raining down. Sure enough, Brent is a prolific hitter. He immediately launches a fly ball right to me. I look up, gauge the launch angle and speed, and position myself right under it. As it hits my glove, I feel the power behind it. The palm of my hand is a little sore right after catching it. Brent has some muscles on him.
I run forward and toss it back to Robert. It goes about halfway and rolls. He has to walk across the infield to retrieve it. He shakes his head the whole way.
“C’mon, sis, put some oomph behind it,” he says.
“Okay, big brother,” I tell him.
I run back out to the outfield. I definitely want to show them I can hang with them, so I’ll make sure to toss the ball back harder.
Brent hits another rocket out to me. I miss the catch and the ball rolls to the back fence. I rush to get it and return it back to Robert on the mound.
After a while it’s Robert’s turn. Brent smiles at me when he takes the pitcher’s mound. I blush a little bit.
Robert isn’t as good of a hitter as Brent is, so I have to come in a bit towards the infield. There are a few fly balls, but he hits mostly ground balls. I have to admit it is fun tossing the baseball back to Brent. He is so playful about everything. But I can see if this were a real game he’d go into serious mode and do his utmost best to win at all costs.
It stops being fun after Robert hits a few more balls. I am tired of retrieving like I’m some puppy dog they brought along. I want my turn at bat!
“Hey guys, can I have a shot?” I ask.
Brent and Robert laugh. My face goes red again. They sure enjoy making me feel like a looser. Robert sees how upset I am getting and waves his hands to calm me down.
“Sure, sis,” Robert says. “Come on.”
He hands over the bat to me and takes his place back on the mound. Brent moves over to the shortstop position between second and third base. I am a lefty and get set up in the batter’s box.
“I’m ready!” I explain rather excitedly.
“You better be,” Robert says.
He winds up and lobs in a fastball. By the time I can get my swing around the ball is already at the backstop. He starts laughing and Brent joins in soon after.
“Lindsay, you might want to choke up on the bat,” Brent explains.
Robert throws another one, even harder this time. I flail at it and hit it with the end of the bat, sending it to the third base side dugout.
“Oh wow, sis, you’re not very good at this,” Robert says.
I frown at him and keep trying.
I miss the next few pitches. Brent collects the balls and brings them back to Robert on the mound.
“Hey buddy,” Brent says to him. “Maybe slow it down a bit? Pitch a little easier, perhaps? We know she’s not very good but maybe give her a chance. What do you think?”
“Uh, I guess I can do that,” Robert says with a shrug. “Going to be pretty boring, though.”
“Well, she isn’t going to hit anything you’re throwing otherwise,” Brent says.
“It doesn’t really matter does it? It’s fun to see her miss all the time,” Robert says.
“How about I pitch then,” Brent suggests.
Robert thinks about it for a moment.
“Okay, Brent,” he says.
Robert hands him the ball and takes over at the shortstop position. Brent prepares to throw from the pitcher’s mound. I get ready to swing. Brent winds up and soft tosses. I make contact and hit it straight back at him. He doesn’t react in time and the ball hits him smack dab in the nose.
“Brent!’ I scream out. I drop the bat and run to him.
“Holy shit, Sis! What did you do?” Robert yells, as he runs to Brent too.
I stand in front of Brent. He is holding his nose and blood is flowing out. It’s all over his shirt now.
“I think it’s broken,” he says in a nasally tone.
“We gotta get you to a doctor,” Robert says. He pushes me away.
“What can I do to help?” I frantically ask.
“You’ve already done enough!” Robert yells at me.
I feel my face start to heat up again and turn red. I hate it when I get embarrassed and flustered! This is all their fault. I won’t stand for this.
“This wouldn’t have ha
ppened if Brent didn’t ask me to play!” I shout.
“What’s done is done,” Brent says, as he clutches his face. “Can you get me to a hospital?”
Robert rips a piece of t-shirt sleeve off and hands it to Brent to help stop the bleeding. We race across the field and up to the street. The hill is a slog, but we make it and run the final stretch to the house.
My dad comes out, wondering what the commotion is. He sees Brent’s nose and the blood and gets into action.
“Brent, are you okay, son?” he asks.
“I’ll be okay, Mr. Miller,” Brent says. “But can you get me to a hospital? Pretty sure my nose is broken.”
“Sure thing! I’ll grab the keys,” my dad says and turns back inside to collect his things.
My mother comes out with a stern look on her face. The three of us just stand there.
“Hmph,” she mutters. “What happened?”
“Lindsay hit Brent with a baseball!” Robert blurts out.
My dad rushes out the door.
“Okay, the car is parked over here,” he says. “Let’s get in and go.”
Brent follows my dad to the old grey 2005 Honda Accord sitting out on the street. Robert gives me a disappointed look and turns to join them. After they’re all inside, they speed off down the road towards the emergency room at the hospital.
That just leaves me, and my mom and she doesn’t look happy with me at all.
“What were you thinking?” she asks with a tone of accusation.
“I was just—We were just—" I’m stammered. I’m flustered. I always get like this when bad things happen. “We were just playing.”
“So, you wanted to be with the big boys,” she says while folding her arms.
My mom definitely knows how to have a commanding presence. Standing at the top of the porch helps give her the high ground, adding height to her imposing figure. The truth is she’s only 5’3’’.
“I just wanted to have some fun,” I say.
“Well there is the type of fun boys have and the type of fun girls are supposed to have,” she says lecturing me. “I hope you can learn your place from this. Good girls don’t do what you just did. Good girls study, get excellent grades, go to school and eventually find a husband. You have so much work to do on yourself to be able to land a suitable man.”