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We were really little more than strangers, when you thought about it – even friends would be pushing it – and our relationship was supposed to be fake, a ruse to fool Kenny and Raquel and make them jealous and let them know that they couldn’t kick me around any more. I was better than that. If I couldn’t be sure of anything else, it was that.
They had tried to destroy me with their affair and dammit if they hadn’t gotten close, but I wasn’t going to let them do that. Not anymore. My daddy used to say I was like a willow. I might bend, but I will never break.
Which didn’t help much with Gavin. I really did feel like I was starting to love him, but I had no idea if he felt the same. He had said that thing in the shower, but that could have been just a joke or maybe pillow talk, so to speak. He had laughed, but only after I had.
It was possible that he had been serious and didn’t want to admit it. I wasn’t sure that I did. Not even to myself. It seemed really big and scary. Kenny was the only boyfriend I’d ever had, and we’d ended pretty recently.
Was it really possible to find another love so quickly?
What did that mean about my previous relationship? That I didn’t really love Kenny, I supposed.
It was surprising to consider but the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. It was really romantic, at least early on, but it wasn’t really love. I was just too young and innocent to see it. I had no indication that Kenny ever really loved me, either.
He tried to woo me, alright, but that could just have been so that he could have my body. Daddy would have kicked his ass if he’d been around. He wasn’t a violent man, but he was really big and wouldn’t have taken too kindly to someone in his twenties exploiting his teenaged daughter.
My mind was spinning, and I was beginning to feel sick. I needed to leave so I went into the bedroom to get my clothes. While I was in there, I noticed that the bed was unmade. Unable to leave a chore undone, I threw on my clothes and started making it. I had just tucked the last corner when there came a knock at the door.
I figured it was Gavin’s housekeeper. He was certainly rich enough to have one, and, being a bachelor, it made sense that he would. I wondered if she didn’t have her own key, but maybe she had forgotten it today. Perhaps he usually kept a spare outside and that was the one he had given to me without thinking.
I opened the door, hand already on the key in my purse, finding not a house keeper but a guy who looked an awful lot like Gavin. He was a couple years younger than me and had the same McSteele height and coloring. For a second, I thought the kid might be Gavin’s son, but then subtracted 18 from 40 and it seemed very unlikely.
“Hi,” he said, eyes glued to my tits.
I couldn’t really blame the kid. They were pretty mesmerizing. I sort of doubted he had seen many like them, at least not in real life, and I wasn’t even wearing a bra. He could no doubt see my nipples pressed up against the thin material of my shirt. I ignored his innocent ogling and tried to get to the matter at hand.
“W-where’s Gavin?” he inquired of my boobs.
“He’s not here. May I ask who you are?”
“Eoin,” he said, as if suddenly remembering his manners and looking up at my eyes. “Eoin McSteele. I’m Gavin’s younger brot’er.”
“Number six?” I asked.
“Aye. Did he tell ye about me?”
“Kind of. I mean, he said he had five brothers.”
“Ye’re one up on me then, ‘cause he never told me he had a smokin’ hot girlfriend.”
I blushed a bit at the compliment. No one but Kenny had used those exact words to describe me and I now suspected he had an agenda. Eoin had no reason to lie and was clearly speaking the impulsive truth. Except maybe for the girlfriend bit. I still wasn’t too sure of that one but saw no reason to over complicate things.
“I guess not, and thank you, Eoin.”
“Pleasure, ma’am.’
“What brings you by?” I asked.
“I-I came all the way from Ireland. I had to. I really need ta talk ta Gavin but I t’ink he’s screenin’ my calls. Our da is in a bad way.”
“How?” I asked.
“He didn’t tell ye?”
“No,” I said, my heart sinking into my stomach.
“Our da, he’s not well. Kind o’ brung it on him self wit’ da booze and da smack.”
“The smack? Like heroin?”
“Aye, lifelong addict. Keeps disappearing and turning up queer places. Queer as in odd. A gutter, a rooftop, under a haystack fast asleep. It’s gotten to be like a macabre game of Where’s Waldo? Anyway, last time he went on a bender he OD’d and was dead for ten minutes.”
