Stepbrother Fallen (10 page)

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Authors: Aya Fukunishi

BOOK: Stepbrother Fallen
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Dad mutters something unintelligible, and
Donald replies.

 

"Well that's what I'm
saying.
Does Maddy have any reason to lie for your
son?"

 

"Not really, Don," replies dad. "They only
met last week, and as far as I can tell Rafe's been teasing the
shit out of Madison. I can't imagine why she'd cover for him if it
wasn't the truth."

 

"OK, then. For now I'm gonna put this down
to teenage bullshit and leave it alone. If and when either of the
guys decide to come forward and tell me who beat the shit out of
'em we might have to revisit the matter, but for now they're not
talking."

 

I step back from the door as dad finishes
up his conversation, and I turn to find mom looking like she's
trying to blend into the wallpaper behind her. I feel pretty bad
for her. She was right to get mad, but as far as she knows she's
just exploded at Rafe for absolutely no reason.

 

Dad returns from the porch, closes the door
and looks guiltily at the floor.

 

"Well, Rafe, I guess Aubrey and I owe you
an apology. Right, honey?"

 

Mom gave a quick, embarrassed nod and
mutters, "Uh huh."

 

"I'm sure you can understand why we might
have jumped to the wrong conclusion, but I'm still sorry we didn't
give you the benefit of the doubt from the get go. Can you accept
our apology?"

 

For a moment I worry that Rafe will keep up
the surly attitude, which would really fucking piss me off since I
know he's totally guilty. Fortunately he nods. "Yeah, I understand.
I would have done the same if it was the other way around. No harm
done." He looks at his watch. "OK, I'm going back to bed. I like to
sleep in on a Sunday. If any more cops come calling, please ask
them to come back after lunch."

 

Rafe turns towards the stairs. As soon as mom and dad can't
see his face he gives me the briefest of smiles. It's just a quick
flash, but to me it feels like I'm bathing in the warmth of the
sun. This is the first
real
smile I've ever seen cross his face. Not a smirk,
or a grin, but a
smile.
And it's all for me.

 

 

 

 

Back in the safety of my room I fall onto
the bed and wait for my heart to stop pounding. I've only been
awake five minutes, and since opening my eyes I've lied to a cop's
face and come a breath away from kissing my stepbrother. As Sunday
mornings go, this is a bit of a big one.

 

Strangely, though, it isn't the thought of
the cop that's making my heart thump in my chest. On any other day
I'd be a sack of nerves if I had to so much as ask a cop for
directions, but lying to Officer McIntyre is, right now, something
that hovers at the back of my mind.

 

Was Rafe about to kiss me?

 

I don't know what to make of it at all.
Rafe must have assumed he'd be leaving in the back of a squad car.
Had that little moment between us just been one last little fucked
up game he was trying to play with me, or did he really want
me?

 

I jump at a sudden knock on the door, and
only just have time to make sure I'm covered up before it cracks
open.

 

"Hey," Rafe pokes his head between the gap.
"You hungry?"

 

"Huh?" That was the last question I was
expecting to hear from him.

 

"Hungry? You know, for food? Bacon, eggs,
pancakes. All that good shit. I think I owe you a breakfast after
that little Oscar-worthy performance downstairs."

 

I sit up and look for something clean in
the mess of clothes on the floor. "Uh, sure, I could eat."

 

Rafe smiles. "Great. I'll pay, you drive. I
think your mom might call in the state troopers if I borrow her
car."

 

I shrug off my nightgown, grab a dress
slung over the edge of my bed and quickly pull it up my body. I
notice that Rafe has made no attempt to avert his eyes as I change,
and I feel a little guilty thrill rush through my body at the
thought of him watching me.

 

"Ummm, can you zip me up?" I walk over to
the door and turn around to allow Rafe to find the zipper that runs
up my back. I could easily have reached it myself, but... well, I
don't want to.

 

"God, I must look a mess right now. I
haven't even brushed my hair."

 

Rafe's hand lingers at the nape of my neck
as he tugs up the zipper. "Shut up, you don't look a mess at all,
and you know it." I can't see him, but I can tell he said it with a
smile. "You always look hot."

 

Jesus
.
The safest thing I could do now would be to fake a
hangover, close the door and lock it until it's time to cash my
social security check.

 

Instead I turn around, flash Rafe a shy
smile and slide past him into the hallway. As I walk down the
stairs I make sure to stay ahead of him so he can't see my
grin.

 

 

 

 

Frank's is a cozy little diner about a mile
from the house, just off the highway and popular with truck drivers
heading for the north. I eat there once a month and never more,
because the menu seems specially designed to ensure that the
customers are too groggy to ever stand up again once they slide
into a booth. Enormous burgers, towering stacks of pancakes and a
Death by Chocolate cake that may have actually sent a few diners to
an early grave are the order of the day.

 

Frank's is also a popular 'recovery' venue.
It's the only place within ten miles that opens before 9AM on a
Sunday, so within minutes of the door opening at 6AM the place is
usually pretty full of bleary-eyed party-goers who haven't quite
managed to make it home before breakfast. I have no experience of
this personally, but Penny assures me that breakfast at Frank's is
the perfect way to dull the embarrassment of the walk of
shame.

 

This particular morning the diner is as
quiet as the grave, and that can only mean one thing: the cops must
have shut down Manda's party after I left. Manda's ragers usually
last until the early hours, and the survivors use the 6AM 20 minute
walk to Frank's to sober up, occasionally stopping to throw up by
the side of the road to make room for pancakes.

 

That would explain a lot about Officer
McIntyre's visit to the house. If the cops showed up at the party
and found a couple of guys bleeding on the floor, it made sense
that Manda would have ratted Rafe out to keep herself out of the
cells. She'd already been arrested a couple of times for being
drunk and disorderly, and though her dad had always smoothed it
over with the cops I get the impression he warned Manda that
eventually he'd let her cool her heels a while to teach her a
lesson.

 

"Counter or booth?" I ask Rafe as we walk
through the door.

 

"Booth, of course," he replies. "Counter's
for assholes."

 

I punch him on the shoulder. "Then you'd be
right at home up there, don't you think?"

 

Rafe chuckles as he slides into the booth
closest to the door. "Look who got up on the wrong side of the
bed." He grabs a menu. "What's good here?"

 

I don't need to look. "Insanity Burger," I
say with supreme confidence. "It's a double cheeseburger with
melted Brie and a home made spicy sauce, with the best curly fries
this side of the Mississippi. It's so good it'll give you an
orgasm. Twice."

 

Rafe closes the menu and waves for the
waitress. "Sold."

 

With only a couple other diners in the
place the waitress comes to the table in seconds, far too cheerful
for 9AM on a Sunday morning. "Well hey there! What can I get for
you this fine morning?"

 

I speak first. "I think I'll haaaaave...
umm, OK, I'll have the garden salad and a glass of--"

 

Rafe interrupts my order. "Woah woah woah,
what's this salad shit? You're not standing behind your
recommendation?"

 

"No, the burger's fantastic. I'm just on a
diet."
Rafe shakes his head. "Nuh uh. Don't do
that to yourself. Don't spend your life convincing yourself you
enjoy rabbit food just so you can squeeze into a dress with a
slightly smaller number on the label. If you want the burger, eat
the damned burger."

 

I bite my lip and stare at the menu,
suddenly uncertain.

 

Rafe turns to the waitress. "We'll take two
Insanity Burgers. And two chocolate shakes."

 

The waitress nods, scratches out the order on her pad and
gives me a sly wink as she walks away. I'm not entirely sure what
she means by that, but I'm pretty sure it's supposed to be
damn, your date's
hot!

 

Rafe taps his fingers on the table top.
"Hey, do you have a phone? I
gotta check in with my parole guy."

 

I nod, set my purse on the table and start to sift through
all the random crap I carry with me. Lipstick, eyeliner, sanitary
towels (
OK,
just tuck those back in. No need for him to see),
my little notebook
and a pack of cherry Tic Tacs. No phone.

 

"Sorry, I must have left it at home.
There's a pay phone by the bathroom, I think."

 

Rafe isn't listening. "Hey now, what's
this?" he asks, snatching up my notepad. "Could it be Madison's
journal? Maybe a rundown of her most intimate secrets?"

 

I reach out to grab it, but Rafe pulls his
arm away. "No, it's not my journal," I reply. Thank God, because my
actual journal has been pretty Rafe heavy this past week. "It's
just a story I've been working on. Give it back."

 

Rafe holds up a finger to silence me. I
slap it away. "Rafe, give it back. Now."

 

"No way, I want to read this masterpiece. I
didn't know you were into writing."

 

"You were too busy being a douche to ask.
Give. It. Back."

 

Rafe's eyes flit down the page as I sit
there, growing pinker and more embarrassed by the second. Nobody is
supposed to read my stories. They're nowhere near good enough for
an audience.

 

"This is... actually, this is pretty good.
Where did you get the idea?"

 

A brief flash of pride breaks through my
anger. "I don't know. Which story are you reading?"

 

"
Jaisalmer Dawn,
" he replies, his eyes glued to the
page.

 

That's a story I wrote about a camel herder
meeting the Maharaja of Jaisalmer in north west India. One lives in
a palace and the other lives in a tent in the Thar Desert, and in
the story they both learn an important lesson about humility and
pride from the other. Honest to God, I got the idea after watching
The Darjeeling Limited.

 

"OK, seriously, Rafe, can you
please
give me back my book? I don't like people
reading my stuff.
Please.
"

 

Rafe looks up from the page, and I think he
can see that I'm really uncomfortable. He sets the book down on the
table where I can easily reach it. "OK, it's your call. If you
don't want me to read it I won't, but from what I've seen so far
it's a great story, and I'd like to finish it if you'd let me. It's
even better than The Very Hungry Caterpillar, and that was a God
damned page turner."

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