Step F*#k: Part Three (A Stepbrother series Book 3) (3 page)

So when I hear they’re all going out on Dad’s boat for the afternoon, I manage to beg off it and get Dad to let me borrow his car. I hate driving and I especially hate driving in L.A., but that should tell you how much I don’t want to be out on the lake with Emma so she can ignore me the entire time.
 

I don’t have much of a plan; I just decide to get in the car and go. Mum phones just as I’m starting the car, so I kill the engine and have a chat with her.
 

“You caught me right as I was about to drive straight into the seventh level of hell,” I say. “Otherwise known as the L.A. freeways.”

“Do be careful,” she says, and I can hear the shudder in her voice. “I assume your father let you borrow his car?”
“He did. I’ve been a good bloke the past couple days and have done everything he’s wanted me to. He probably figures he owes me.”

“Are you enjoying yourself? How’s the house?”

“It’s good. About the same as I remember it, I guess. The lake isn’t totally polluted yet, either, which I suppose is a minor miracle, this being L.A. and all.”
Mum laughs. “You know, I can’t help but wonder sometimes if your total disdain for that place is learned or genetic.”
I consider this. “Both, probably.”

“Well, I just wanted to check in with you. I’m glad to hear that you’re having a nice time. Oh, and you’ll never guess who I ran into the other day.”

“Who?”
“You don’t want to guess?”
I run through a mental Rolodex. “I have no clue, Mum.”

“Kate Brown.”

“Oh,yeah? How is Katie?”
“She’s good. She looks great. We had a nice chat. It was a little strange, though, at one point, because she said she’d just seen you.”

“Just seen me? No, I don’t think so. I can’t remember the last time I saw Kate.”
 

“Oh, well. Perhaps I misunderstood her. Either way, it was lovely to see her and I told her I’d tell her we’d spoken next time I talked to you.”

Kate Brown is one of those people the general public has seen in movies and TV shows on numerous occasions, yet they just don’t realize it. She’s a stunt double and I met her years ago when my dad was filming a movie in Newmarket about horse racing. This was an action thriller type movie, though, so it also involved high speed car chases, moto-x, and I believe someone was also supposed to jump out of a helicopter. I was just a young teen when this all happened, and completely in awe when I got to visit my dad on the set one day and meet Kate, who is hot as hell and can do all sorts of crazy shit, like back flips and jumping off of roofs or from very high cliffs, or wheelie a motorcycle for fifty yards. Totally normal. I was more than a bit enamored, you could say, but it didn’t matter how much I was interested in her. She had zero interest in me. At least like
that
, anyway. Guys weren’t her thing, and she wasn’t just saying that. But she treated me like a kid brother and my dad treated her like the daughter he never had. Once every four or five years or so we’d run into each other, and it was so easy to just pick up where we left off, like resuming a conversation.
 

“I’ll be sure to tell Dad that you saw her,” I say. “He’ll be thrilled to hear it. Anyway, Mum, I’m going to head out now—I’ve just been sitting in the driveway—so I’ll give you a ring after the wedding. And I’ll be home not long after that. I’ll go get you a souvenir right now, how about that?”

She laughs. “You drive safely, now. Remember—it’s the right side of the road.”

“And green means go and red means stop? And yellow also means go?”

“Okay, now you’re making me nervous. I’m getting off the phone.”

“All right, Mum. I will drive safely. Talk to you soon.”

I toss the phone on the passenger seat and start the car again, then drive slowly down the driveway. Now, if I were Kate, I’d have revved the thing so you could hear the engine miles away, and I’d peel out of the driveway so fast there’d be thirty feet of burned rubber in my wake.
 

I drive aimlessly for a while, not really any clue where I’m going. I end up on Sunset Blvd and decide to park and walk around for a bit. I pop into a tacqueria and get a burrito, which I eat at a table by the window. A blond girl and her friend are at the other table, both of them giving me the eye. Neither are as cute as Emma, and I’m pretty sure the blond’s tits are fake, but I give her a smile when I catch her looking at me, and that’s all the invitation she needs.
 

She shimmies over in cut offs and a pink tank top.
 

“Hi,” she says. She nods to the empty chairs across from me. “Are these seats taken?”
“Nope.”

This close and yes, those tits are fake as hell.

“Do you mind . . .?”
She lets the question trail off. This close and I can also see she’s considerably older than I initially thought, with her fake spray tan and Botoxed brow.
 

“Go right ahead,” I say, and the blond looks at her friend and giggles.
 

“Oh, he’s got an accent. We love a man with an accent!”

“Is that so?”
“Yes,” the blond say emphatically. “An accent makes a man a thousand times more attractive—not that you need it,” she adds.
 

I smile. “That’s very sweet of you.”
“So clearly, you’re from out of town,” the blond says. “Or did you just move?”
“No, I’ll be heading back to London in about a week. I’m here for a wedding, actually.”

“Not your own, I hope.”

“No, definitely not.”

“Okay, good.” She smiles and her face barely moves. “My friend and I—Jenna, and I’m Carly—we don’t live far from here. Would you like to come over?” She looks at the bottle of lemonade I’ve half-drunk. “We could have something a little stronger.” Her friend, Jenna, nods and gives me an encouraging smile.
 

“We’ll definitely make it worth your while,” she says.
 

I lean back in my chair. If I had to guess, these girls are probably in their early- or mid-thirties. An early- to mid-thirties bird is generally going to be a great shag, at least in all the experiences I’ve had so far. She knows what she wants, how she likes it, and she’s not afraid to ask for it. And a threesome with two mid-thirties girls is likely to be an all-out fuck fest that involves all orifices and much broken furniture.
 

And these girls aren’t bad looking—they’re just starting to realize that they’re not young anymore and that they’re not going to be able to count on their looks much longer. Right now, they’re really just looking for some validation, and what better way to get it from a young guy with an accent?
 

I consider, for a moment. It would be like doing a public service almost, giving these two a much-needed boost of self esteem. And to suddenly go from having a ton of sex to having none has been a bit jarring, and I wouldn’t mind a nice ride right about now, either. But that would completely fuck up anything with Emma—
if
she found out, but I don’t want to feel like I’m keeping something from her. Even though we’re not going out. We’re not even having sex anymore. We’re not anything. But . . . still.
 

“That’s a very tempting offer,” I say, “but regrettably, I’m going to have to decline.”

“Oh,” Carly says. The two girls pout for a second. “That
is
too bad. We were just headed to a sex shop, actually.”

“A sex shop?”
“Yes. We’ve got a couple things we need to get.” I think Carly is trying to raise an eyebrow at me, but the Botox is preventing that. “You could come with us.”
“You two birds want to take me to a sex shop.” I pretend as though I’m mulling this over, even though I already know the answer. “Sure,” I say. “Let’s go.”
 

The shop is close by, so we walk. I let each of them take an arm, so here I am, moseying down Sunset Blvd with what could very well be two prostitutes on either arm, and boy if I don’t feel like a blue-blooded American. Someone please, come take my picture. Except . . . I don’t think Emma would be too thrilled about that.
 

The shop the girls take me to is something of an enclave, with lots of leather, latex, and a wall of dildos in every color of the rainbow.
 

“Were you ladies looking for something in particular?” I ask.
 

“I need a new vibrator,” Carly says.
 

Jenna giggles. “Her previous one broke from overuse.”

But first, they drag me over to the clothing section, where they ask my opinion about various negligees, g-strings, and crotchless panties. All the cute little lingerie has me thinking about Emma, though, and I wonder if perhaps I should get her something. Would she like a flaming pink pair of crotchless knickers? Or some edible underwear? A latex full body suit with holes cut out for the crotch and tits? Hmm.
 

Carly takes my hand and pulls me over to the vibrators and dildos. “You must have a girlfriend,” she says. “And that’s why you don’t want to come back to the apartment with us.”
 

“It isn’t quite that,” I say, looking at the dozens and dozens of choices. Who knew there were so many options? They range from little silver bullets no more than two inches long to a huge black horse cock with a suction cup attached to the base. The thing looks like a serious weapon.
 

“What’s it like then?” Carly picks up one of the boxes. “Because I sure wouldn’t mind
you
getting me off as opposed to this thing.”

“I guess . . . I guess you could say that I’m in active pursuit of someone. Someone who both does and does not want to be pursued.”

“She must be blind then, if she doesn’t want to be pursued by you.” Carly puts the box back and picks up another, this one a cock with a little rabbit. “Here it is,” she says. “The best vibrator on the market. Maybe you should get her this.”

Something else has caught my eye though, and I move a few steps away to get a closer look. I pick up the box.
 

“I think this,” I say.
 

Carly makes a face, or tries to. Jenna has come over, and both women are looking at me skeptically.
 

“She’s into that?” Carly says.
 

“I don’t think I could ever use something like that,” Jenna says. It’s clear that both ladies think I should put the thing back and either pick something else or just give in and go back to their apartment and fuck them silly, but I’m not going to do that. I bring the box up to the register and I try to imagine the look on Emma’s face when I give it to her. This is going to be fucking hilarious.

I was relieved when Jai said he wasn’t going to come out on the boat with us, but after that initial relief wore off, and we’re sitting there in the middle of the lake, I find myself wishing he had joined us after all. I certainly don’t want to be having these thoughts. Really, I am doing everything I could to keep them at bay, but they kept sneaking in.
 

Jessica went out and bought a bunch of tabloids for us, and Mom packed us a lunch including plenty of wine coolers, so you’d think I’d have enough of a distraction, but I get sick of looking at the magazines after my second one. And the wine coolers are too sweet, and I’m not hungry.
 

“Sweetie,” Mom whispers at one point. “Are you about to get your period?”

“No,” I snap.

“Okay, okay. You’re just . . . you’re just in a bit of a mood, is all, and it’s such a lovely day. And we’ve got our appointments at the spa after this, so I just want you to be happy. There’s nothing worse than an unhappy person going to the spa.”

I try hard not to roll my eyes. “I could honestly think of about nine thousand things that are worse than that.”
 

She gives me an exasperated look and takes another long swig of her wine cooler. “Oh, Emma. Let’s just try to get along, okay? Even if you
are
about to get your period.”
 

Hearing her say that only irritates me further, so I spend the remainder of the boat ride lying on my towel, trying to get the sun to sear away any lingering thoughts I have about Jai. Like: What is he doing? Is he thinking about me? Is he really just going to leave me alone like I wanted—demanded—him to?