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Relaxed yet pumped, I took a deep breath, stretching my neck. I’d calmed down somewhat after my meeting with Jim. A hard work-out had had its intended effect, and my body was tired and my mind clear. All I needed was a good session in the sack with my beautiful woman, and then we could turn to the heavy stuff.
After all, I know that I need to rebuild my reputation. If what Jim said was true, then I’d gone from being All-American golden boy to disgusting lech, all in the course of a week. The news cycle clearly moves fast in the United States, and I cursed. How had that Vanity person thrown such a wrench into my plans? Sure, I’d texted her a couple times, and I guess she’d shown up at the Olympics and snuck up next to me while the cameras flashed. But I’d never had a real conversation with her, and certainly we didn’t have sex.
But I guess that was all the press needed. Vanity had appeared in Atlanta and pressed her boobs against me. All of a sudden, our “relationship” was legit. What the fuck? There are so many groupies at the Olympic Village, and pictures were being snapped right and left. Why was this one any different?
I guess it was because Vanity was LGBTQ, which is all the rage, and she was hot too. It made for a thirst trap certainly: Mason Phillips has a sexy transgender cougar as my secret girlfriend! Buy this celebrity magazine now!
But dang, it was all wrong and total bullshit too. The woman I’ve lost my heart to is Janie, the beautiful dancer who charmed her way into my life. It’d been a little shaky at first, with the Blue Light Special and the marriage of our parents, but it was real.
Now, I needed Janie. I needed my sister to come forward and to announce that she was the love of my life because it would clear my name. Vanity would be blown out of the water. Plus, I figured it’d be no big deal. After all, I was ready to reveal our relationship at a White House dinner. What could be more solid than that?
It’ll be rough on both our reputations, true, because the public isn’t exactly going to swallow step-siblings in love, but hey, worse things have happened, and people would come around eventually. It’s not like anyone was underage and there was no crime committed. So I was determined to dig myself out of this hole, and Janie was just the ticket.
Besides, I miss her curvy body. I want to see her laugh again, and I want to share intimacies once more as soon as we have “the talk” and strategize about next moves. But where was Janie? It wasn’t like her to disappear midday.
Finding the kitchen empty, I circled to the living room and then made my way upstairs. Maybe my baby was in a bubble bath, nude for my pleasure. Oh yeah, that’d be perfect.
But curiously, the master suite was empty as well. Puzzled, I made my way to the guest bedroom. But no, nada, nothing.
Finally, I made my way downstairs, shaking my head with confusion. I called Janie’s cell but it went straight to voicemail, her sweet voice directing me to leave a message.
Hanging up, I stepped in the kitchen again and this time, I saw a note on the fridge. Weird. Janie could have texted me because that would have been easier, but I guess she wanted to be old-fashioned. I squinted while looking at the note. Her handwriting was elegant, and the missive opened with, “Dear Mason.” Oh shit. This was like out of a movie or something. Didn’t all break-up letters start with “Dear John”?
Unfortunately, things only got worse. The note said she needed to get away from everything for a while because we were living in a pressure-cooker with the press corps trailing me everywhere. She was a private citizen, and valued her space. Even more, Janie would contact me when she was ready, and there was no need for me to reach out of her. There was no mention of Vanity, of the White House dinner, or of Matchy. There were no allusions to what had been or what could be. The note was simple, straightforward, and neutral. It was almost business-like, to be honest, and that got me.
After all, I’ve fallen in love with my stepsister and I needed her now, more than ever. Yet here she was, breaking up with me? God, no. I staggered towards the kitchen table, unable to breathe.
How could this happen? I buried my head in my hands as a sense of panic built. My throat constricted as my chest tightened, making it difficult to breathe. I thought I had a partner. I thought Janie would always support me. Times were tough, yes, but weren’t we supposed to hang together through thick and thin?
