Shame: A Stepbrother Romance (14 page)

“Do what, mom? I haven’t done anything!” I snap at her. She is being hysterical and she doesn’t make much sense, “Listen, there are two men here, claiming…”

“Maybe that will teach you a good lesson not to turn on the people who care about you and try to give you a good start.”

“Mom? I don’t understand. Did Joe send them? They are saying the bank is repossessing…”

The flat line rings in my ear and I just stare at my dead phone for a couple of minutes, trying to string together any meaning in my mother’s words. Does she know about me and Andrew? Is that what she’s referring to, the thing that I’ve done that’s so terrible? I have to speak to him. He has to know. We’ll see each other and we’ll fix all this. We’ll talk to our parents. We’ll explain.

Still it doesn’t sound too plausible that my bookstore would be taken away because I’ve slept with my stepbrother. And how would anyone even find out about it unless either of us confesses to it, which we are not that stupid to do. I still hope Andrew has the answer to all that’s happening.

I dial his number with trembling fingers. My stomach feels queasy as I wait for him to pick up. It seems that it’s taking eternity for him to pick up. In the end, I get a no answer message and the phone goes blank in my palm. I dial again. And again, and again, and again. No answer.

That’s not possible. I’ve seen him with his cell phone. He is practically glued to the thing, not to mention he jumps every time it rings and answers if not immediately then as soon as he’s out of my earshot. Is it possible that he is screening? I’m becoming more and more paranoid the more I consider what my mother said and the image of Andrew staring at his phone screen and ignoring my call.

This is the moment that I completely lose it. I crash down on the floor and burst into tears, heavy, uncontrolled, desperate tears that keep streaming down my cheeks as my chest heaves in my futile attempts to catch my breath. My heart is racing and I bite down on my lower lip, trying to stop the outburst, but the tears keep stinging my eyes, bitter and hot.

A knock comes on the door and I know I need to gather myself. I can’t defend myself in this state.

“Miss Highfield?” a male voice comes through, “Are you alright? Our team has arrived and we are ready to start now. Would you come out please?”

I feel like a child who’s locked herself in the bathroom, so she doesn’t have to face the horrors outside. I only wish I could be a child right now. As an adult, I need to deal with monsters named Repossession, Accounting Records, Appeal Claim and Vacating the Premises. It takes all my strength not to curl up into a ball on the floor and keep crying.

I find a paper towel to wipe the smudged mascara off my swollen lids and wet cheeks and finally come out. As I walk towards the front desk, my eyes fall on the shelf with the tarot cards.

Is it possible that this was all true? Is there even the faintest chance that I’ve asked for it? That I’ve provoked my own demise?

If it
is
possible, then the cards’ message was unanimous.

It’s only going to get worse from here.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I’m standing in front of Ashleigh’s apartment, my hand poised to knock on the door. I realize I look like a mess and I don’t want to scare her, but as I was walking mindlessly down the slushy streets, I realized I can’t go back to my apartment.

I still don’t know where exactly Andrew’s friend, the one he’s staying with, lives and Andrew hasn’t picked up his phone yet. I can’t go to my mom’s home, seeing that she doesn’t even want to speak to me for some unknown reason. The only person I could think of, who’d listen to my desperate ramblings right now, is Ashleigh.

I feel really guilty for bothering her, since I know Sean has just moved in and they are probably getting him all set up or having sex or just cuddling together in the living room watching the snow fall outside. I wish my life would just go back to a place where I could be simply enjoying the snow.

I take a deep breath and knock. I know she won’t judge and might even be able to help. She’s studied this crap and though she is not actively taking advantage of her law degree yet, at least she might know why this is happening and what I can possibly do to save my bookstore.

She opens the door in flannel pajama pants and a worn out white tank top, holding a mug of coffee. When she sees me, she freezes for a moment as if I’m the last person she’s expected to see. I might as well be.

“Ash,” I say, still standing out in the doorway, “I’m sorry, I should have called.”

She is still looking at me without saying a word and for a moment I hope the entire world hasn’t gone completely mad and she won’t kick me out the way my mother had hung up on me.

“Jo,” she says, her voice full of compassion, and the awkward coldness dissolves in an instant. She leaves the mug on the floor and though I’m all wet and covered in dirty snow, she steps out and gives me a long, hard hug that’s a bit too intense for the occasion. After all, she can’t know already, can she?

“I can’t believe it, Jo,” she says as she practically drags me inside and takes off my drenched coat. “I can only imagine what it must feel like for you.”

“Are you alone?”

“Yeah. Sean’s at work. And I wouldn’t tell him anyway, unless he’s found out on his own.”

I’m getting more confused as I follow her into the living room. It looks like she’s been having a lazy morning that has turned into a lazy afternoon. There’s a bowl of unfinished cereal on the coffee table by her laptop and a half-empty pot of coffee. Soft blankets are scrunched up on the sofa and it’s warm and clean. The laundry machine is buzzing quietly in the distance. I wish I could hide in here for a while and only emerge back into the world when life becomes less threatening.

“But how do you know?” I ask, plopping down on the sofa and reaching for the coffee pot. Ashleigh helpfully supplies a clean mug and sits down next to me. “I only just found out. I think they haven’t even left the bookstore yet.”

She gives me a puzzled look.

“Oh, honey, I think way more people know than you think. Something like this spreads like wild fire. Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you even more.”

She’s noticed I’ve started crying again. I can’t hold my tears back when they prickle my lids and spill down my cheeks. I try to hide myself behind the mug and tip it towards my parched lips. Ashleigh is handing me a box of tissues.

“We’ll get through this together, sweetie, don’t worry now. I can’t even imagine! What a fucking jerk! If I could only get to him right now, he’ll see some personally served justice—”

“Ash, who? Who is a jerk?” I ask impatiently. Her words have suddenly started to make zero sense in the situation. “What are you talking about?”

“What do you mean? Isn’t
that
why you are here?”

“
What
? What is it?” I almost scream, though she’s the last person to deserve my outrage.

“That,” she says and points to the screen of her laptop.

I shake my head. I’m completely lost.

“Ash, they took my bookstore! They’ve repossessed it, like an hour ago. They practically kicked me out.”

Her eyes grow huge with disbelief. She starts rubbing my arm comfortingly.

Oh no! It finally downs on me that’s not at all what she was talking about and there’s another crisis on the way. I mentally brace myself to take the blow.

“And what were you talking about?” I whisper hoarsely and nod towards the computer, “What’s on there?”

“I… Oh, I’m so, so sorry, I thought you knew! Maybe you should see for yourself, but Jo? Remember, we’ll get through it. I’m on your side. There’s nothing you can do that will change my mind about you. I really don’t care what they are saying.”

“Show me,” I say and clench my teeth. Right now I can’t even imagine what could be so bad that she’d need to reassure me so much. It certainly won’t hurt as much as losing the bookstore.

I’m wrong. The pain is physical and it’s blinding.

She brings up a tab on her browser and hits the play button on an obscure looking video. At first it’s hard to understand what is going on on the screen, but it might be that my brain just doesn’t want to accept what it already knows.

The video shows a room—a familiar room. There’s a bed, a desk, a mini bar and a draped over window.

And there’s me. I’m dressed in the green satin gown from Ashleigh’s wedding and the focus on my face is as clear as day as I walk towards the intentionally blurred image of a man. I hardly see what is happening from behind the smudged screen of my pooling with tears eyes, but I see enough to recognize myself kneeling in front of the man and taking his erect dick my mouth. It all unravels from there.

“
Oh, fuck, you are good, Jo. Touch yourself, Jo. Don’t you dare come, Jo.
”

The words hit me like poison-dipped needles and I am paralyzed. The male voice is manipulated, so it sounds as if an alien is speaking, but mine is as clean as a whistle as I groan, “
Fuck me, please!
”

I can’t take any more of it. My mortification is overwhelming when I turn to look at Ashleigh. She’s not watching it. She’s staring into the dark ring of her coffee, visibly uncomfortable. I don’t want to watch a second more of the filthy thing, so I close the tab and the sound of the laundry machine is once again the only noise in the room.

I feel dirty and disgusting even sitting on Ashleigh’s couch, not to mention facing her. My mind quickly goes back to a few minutes ago when she didn’t know I wasn’t aware of the video. She was still herself and she was being supportive. The only comforting thing in this whole disaster is that at least I have a friend, a real one, and everything she’s said so far in the face of my complete downfall, only proves she is one to treasure. I’m not alone.

“When did you find out about this?” I say quietly.

“Today,” she says gently and her tone tells me she’s picking her every word, trying not to upset me further, though what she needs to tell me can’t have any other effect. “It’s everywhere Jo. It’s in the local newspapers, on the Internet, it’s shared all over Facebook. I really thought it wasn’t possible that you hadn’t seen it already.”

I bury my face in my hands. Was I really feeling sorry for the woman who was buying those self-help books in the morning? If she could take a peek at me right now, she’d be the one to pity me. Or smirk at my blind arrogance.

“What does the newspaper say?”

“Daughter of so-and-so, porn tape leak, that sort of thing.”

“Oh my God, so that’s why my mother was so weird on the phone. She hung up on me, Ash. She was so revolted with me, she couldn’t even bare to talk to her own daughter!”

Ashleigh starts rubbing my back in comforting circles.

“Do you think your step dad has something to do with the bookstore repossession then?”

“Oh, I think he had
everything
to do with it. The man disinherited his own son over some stupid scandal in the past for God’s sake!”

I hear myself mention him and all goes dark. My brain must have been defensively avoiding the obvious, but I can’t push it away forever. It was him. Andrew is at the bottom of this. He’s the one it all started with and he’s taken away everything I cared for.

My mind is not cooperating. It goes to the only place that can hurt me even more right now. Without being able to prevent it, I picture myself naked and vulnerable, completely exposed in his arms as he is whispering his poisonous words in my ear. I’m squirming with pleasure and letting go of myself, sitting in his lap, straddling his firm hips, relinquishing every sane thought while he is moving slowly inside me.

I feel the sickness come over me like a tornado and I cup my mouth with a shaking hand, rushing off to the bathroom. Ashleigh is trying to follow me, but I wave a helpless hand at her to stop her. They say best friends are the ones who hold your hair in the bathroom, while you are puking your guts out, but at this moment I don’t think even a best friend can help me. I want to be by myself as I wretch over the toilet bowl, tears and beads of sweat mixing together over my face.

I am completely submerged in my misery.

Sitting back on my heels, I think human beings are designed to handle only so much pain. I’ve reached my limit so fast that I feel empty and numb and for some part, I am grateful for this defensive mechanism. I can’t handle any more thoughts or even beginning to think about my situation.

At that moment I think I can understand alcoholics. Really, what’s so bad about trying to escape? Sometimes it hurts so badly that your limbs are cold and your stomach scrunched up, your forehead burning and your chest so tight, you feel like it might implode. If a few dollars can buy me a bottle with the promise that I won’t feel all this, if I could just drift off into sleep or even a coma for a few hours, I’d pay them over and over, just to push away the moment when I have to face my shame.

It’s probably a whole half hour before I gather the strength to get up from the floor. I probably wouldn’t have, if Ashleigh hadn’t knocked lightly on the bathroom door, asking if I was alright. What does she think?