Vain: A Stepbrother Romance (2 page)

Chapter
3 Mick

I step out into the cool morning air and
notice the sun rising up over the horizon. Resting my arms on my balcony, I
welcome the new day. I love my place, which I should, considering it cost me a
king’s ransom. Right now I have lots to spend, so it doesn’t matter. After all,
no one lives forever.

As I breathe in the
ocean air, a deep sense of calm shivers through my body. I am now ready for the
day.

Delia yells at me
from inside. “Mick, stop being and idiot.  Why are you always staring at
that ocean? Come back to bed.”

What the fuck?
Sometimes, I can’t deal with that chick. How someone so beautiful can be so
ugly, I will never know.

I shout angrily back
to her, “I will be in soon, just go back to bed.”

Our relationship has
changed a great deal since she moved in, and I am not sure where we’re headed.
When you get into a relationship, everything seems so perfect, but when the
honeymoon stage is over, you end up in a far different place. Sure, she’s hot,
but there should be more than that. I think. My phone ringing brings me out of
my contemplation.

“Oh, please, Mick,
let it ring,” she yells.

I ignore her now. She
is happy to live the lifestyle that surfing afforded me, but she is not willing
to let me work. It isn’t even that she wants to spend time with me—she just
wants to be in control. Man, I am getting sick of sleeping with her. At this
point, that is all it is. Sleeping.

I pick up the phone.
“This is Mick.”

“Hey Mick, its
Jaime.”

Jaime Redman is my
agent. He always makes sure I’m busy. His persistence is often tiring, but I
knew I truly needed him to help with my career.

“Hey, Jaime. What’s on the agenda
today?”

Jaime goes through
the long list of interviews I have to attend and the endorsements we’re working
on. I also have to film a commercial for the upcoming surf tour event. We won’t
get paid for it, but Jaime says it’s more about the exposure. It’s all about
who knows you and staying current.

I yawn. “Okay, Jaime.
Am I driving, or is someone driving me?”

“I’ll have the car
pick you up in an hour. Do you need breakfast?”

“I’m okay, but I have
some personal business I need to attend to this afternoon at around two, so I
need that time to be free.”

“That’s not going to
work,” Jamie says. “We have an interview at two.”

I sigh. “Well, you’d better get me out
of it, because I won’t be there.”

“Can’t, buddy. You
are on. This is the biggest time of the year for you. You need to be working.”

I raise my voice to
ensure he knows how serious I am. “Figure it out, Jaime! That is what I pay you
for.”

“Let me see what I
can do,” he mutters, “but it won’t look good if you are not there.”

“Figure it out!” I
snap again, slamming the phone down.

Damn it, why do I have all this money if I can’t do what I
want?
The truth is,
though the life I lead is truly an amazing one, it’s just not my own. Sure, this
is the most important time of year for me—well, for my career—but who cares? I
want to enjoy myself.

In my contemplation I began to wonder why the hell I was
taking this bet with Sam. Who cares if I can teach people better than she can?
As soon as I start thinking about her, her body springs to mind. Sam did look
really good. She is everything Delia isn’t. Delia is demanding and lazy. Even
though she’s hot, that’s not everything that’s important to me. At least, not
any more. Lately, I’ve been questioning the decision I made regarding my
relationship with her. Things between us got too hot too fast. But I had a lot
on my plate today. There wasn’t time for dwelling on the past.
          “Delia, I am going to be
out for the day.”

Delia yells, “You are always out for the day!”

“Don’t start with me now. This is my life. I told you, these
next couple of weeks are going to be very busy.”

She lowers her voice.
“Can I come with you?”

“No, you will be in
the way.”

She snorts. “You are
such an asshole, Mick.”

“Goodbye, Delia. We
can talk about this later.” The last thing I want to do is to deal with her
shit this early in the morning.

I walk out to the
cabana by the pool to get ready for the day, avoiding my sulking girlfriend. On
my way past the pool, I text Jaime and ask him to have a breakfast ready for
me.
Fuck! I can’t even eat breakfast in my own house!

Then I remember a
quote from the Howard Stern show: “No matter how hot some chicks are, someone,
somewhere, is sick of fucking them.” Quite honestly, I was at that place with
her now. We hadn’t even had sex in over a month.
Geez, what am I with her
for?

I shower up in the
cabana, take out some board shorts and a shirt, and wait for the call from the
car. Delia storms into the cabana to find me watching TV. She instantly starts
yelling.

“Why the fuck are you
in here? Avoiding me?”

I look away. “Delia, I am not avoiding you, I am
waiting for my ride.”

The phone rings, and not a moment too soon. Delia
shoots me a look that could kill.

“Don’t you dare pick
that up!” she screeches.

“Delia, this is
business. I have to take it. We will talk later tonight.” I rush past her while
she tries to stop me. “Talk later.”

Delia folds her arms.
“I may not be here later.”

“That is your choice.
I have to go.” I reply coldly.

Her voice doesn’t
waver. “Don’t you leave, Mick. If you walk out that door, I won’t be here when
you get back!”

There is a part of me
that hopes she will leave. Dealing with her has become too much of a chore. She
wants the heaven and the stars, but feels she has to give very little to get
it. It is a relationship that is no longer enjoyable to me. I never feel free.
It is time for her to go.

Chapter 4 - Surfing Circus - Mick

As I sit in the SUV and drive to our
first appointment all I can think about is hitting the water.  I wish I
could get out in the surf.  Unfortunately, my surfing job often doesn’t
allow that.  Funny how that is. I decide that I need to hear a rational
voice. I call my father. Despite our contrasting lifestyles, he is always a
voice of reason. He was also the man who taught me how to surf. I have a great
deal of respect for him.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Dad, it’s me.”

“Hey, son, how are
you doing?”

“I’m okay, Dad. You
know, busy and all. It’s damn hectic.”

“Yeah? Being busy is
a good thing, but are you happy? Remember, we always, always have a choice in
life.”

I snap. “Dad, don’t
give me that. Without money, we are nothing.”

There is a long pause.
Dad never liked speaking about money. He also never liked conflict.

“I will maintain my
views as my own,” he says.

“So let’s just drop
it, then.”

My father is a bit of
a hippie, always has been. He chose a motorhome over a corporate boardroom and
now lives in it by the beach. He often reminds me how he lives on just pennies
a day and loves his life. I admire that he’s happy with his life—so many people
live rich and unhappy, or poor and unhappy, but not Dad. Somehow, he’s poor and
happy, which is pretty damn rare. But I also hate him for his lifestyle. That’s
really the reason he and my mother divorced. A part of me will never forgive
him for that.

I pause for a moment.
“Listen, Dad, I need to clear my head for a second. I just need to ask you one
question. I’ve never asked you this, and I know you’ll wonder why I’m even
asking this right now, but I need an answer. When did you know that you and Mom
needed to get a divorce?”

There is a long
painful silence. “I… we weren’t happy together. I realized, after a while, that
she wanted to be with a guy who made a lot of money. She didn’t just want a
companion. And that killed me. Truly. Oh, how I loved, and still love, your mother.
But our ideas of happiness were very different. I guess I couldn’t give her
that. I wouldn’t have wanted to, Mick. She didn’t want my idea of love. That
was okay; we were just different that way. She felt trapped, and I couldn’t
live my life knowing I was keeping her from hers, so we parted ways.”

I sit on the other
end of the line and feel my eyes begin to sting. I had no idea. They divorced
when I was five, when the most complicated thing I knew was how to tie my
shoes. I blink several times and clear my throat. I can’t find the words to
tell my dad that I love him and that I finally understand why he had did what
he did all those years ago. Apparently, history repeats itself.

“Life is a tricky
thing, Dad. I guess that is what I have learned.”

“That is the truth,
son. Listen let’s get together soon.”

“Sure thing, Dad.
Let’s do that,” I say, knowing just how hollow that promise is.

I roll down the
tinted back window of the SUV and look to the ocean. My thoughts drift to Sam.
She was so gorgeous yesterday. Her lips are the kind of lips you just want to
kiss the moment you see them. What gets me most about her, though, is her
confidence. It’s so rare to meet a woman who’s more than externally beautiful.
Samantha is different, and she always has been. Even when I’d tease and bully
her when we were kids. When I was cocky to her, she didn’t back down. Sam’s the
kind of woman who can stand on her own.

Part of me feels a
little weird for having all these warm and fuzzy feelings. After all, she is my
stepsister. Flushing the thoughts from my mind, I look back to my phone.

I’m checking my
Twitter and responding to some fan mail when the driver stops, gets out, and
opens the door. Camera flashes and the sounds of screaming girls fill the air.
I sign a few autographs and make my way past the throngs of people to the set.

This year, they
decided to do the interviews right on the pier. I love the pier—I spent most of
my childhood there, learning to surf. Before sitting down, I look over the rail
to watch the surfers. All I want to do is surf, but I have far too many
obligations. Maybe my father was right—maybe money isn’t everything. I shake
the thought and look down in jealousy as one of the surfers grabs a massive
wave. How ironic—what I do for a living doesn’t allow me to do what I do for a
living.

An overly polished
man comes over and shakes my hand. His teeth are so white they glow. “Hi, Mick.
Why don’t we get you settled so we can get started?”

I turn around to see
the other overly polished guy who was going to conduct my interview. These
jackasses never know anything about surfing. They always ask the same stale,
irrelevant questions. I have to keep reminding myself it is important to give
interviews and maintain a public image.

“Sure, not a
problem.”  I falsely reply.

It takes a lot for me
to rip myself from that rail. I could watch the surfers all day. I sit down in
the chair as the makeup girl fiddles with my face, almost like she’s painting a
mask on me.

I smile and remember
that I am going to get in the water today. The bet with Sam. I can’t see how
that’s going to happen now, with all this other crap I have to do. There is no
way Jaime will let me go. I haven’t even told him what I was doing—if I did, it
would make it worse. Or would it?
         
An idea shot through
my mind at a rapid pace. What if I turn it into something that would go viral?
Jaime is always telling me to do viral things. What if I told him he could tape
the lesson from a distance? That would kill two birds with one stone. I would
get the time to see Samantha and I could still be working.

By disguising my
appearance, I could teach the group as just another regular surf instructor,
show my killer moves, then reveal myself as the famous Mick Anderson and win
the bet with Sam. The whole success story would be caught on camera, and I
could be proven a great surfer and a great teacher. It’s a win-win all around.

“Mick, are you ready
to do this?” the producer asks.

“Can you give me a minute?
I just have to make a quick call.” I dial Jaime’s number in excitement.

“Hey, Jaime. Did you
get me out of that thing this afternoon?”

He stuttered. “Well,
about that… I, uh—”

         
I cut him off. “Before you answer, I have an idea that I am sure you will like.
I’m going to teach surfing lessons to beginners this afternoon

“What?! Why?”

“Stay with me: I am
going for a viral video. I made arrangements to have a surfing lesson with this
girl yesterday… Anyway, you will set up a camera or two to watch me teaching a
lesson. Here is how I see it working. I teach the class how to surf, alongside
another instructor. I’ll disguise myself so the class doesn’t know I’m famous.
Once I’m finished with the lesson, I’ll reveal myself as the famous surfer Mick
Anderson. Then I will go out and catch a wave, showing them how great I am.
With all this on camera, I’ll be seen as a great surfer
and
a great
teacher. We’ll have an instant viral video. You can mic me up under my wetsuit—do
whatever it takes.”

Jaime pauses. “I
think you might have something there. Should we hide your face? What if the
other people recognize you?”

“I don’t think they
will. If I put my hair back and wear sunglasses and a hat, no one will notice.”

“Why do you want to
do this?” Jaime asks.

“Like you said, any
press is good press.”

Jaime is pleased.
“Ah, so you’re finally listening to me.”

I smirk. “Yeah,
something like that.”

“One more thing, man.
If this whole thing is really about a girl, be careful. You have a
girlfriend—the last thing you need right now is for your life to be complicated
while a competition is looming.”

“Jaime, my life is
always complicated. You worry about yours, and I’ll worry about mine.”

Hanging up the phone
brings instant excitement. I can go see Sam and keep Jaime happy. She’ll think
this whole thing is funny—I look like a hero, we go for drinks, and who knows?
Wait,
what am I talking about?! She’s my stepsister!
Shaking my head in disgust,
I go back to where Mr. Polished is excited to get this over with.

“Okay, let’s get this interview going. I have things
to do.”

The interview is the
usual drivel that people make me talk about. “How did you get started?” “Do you
get nervous during competitions?” “What’s it like to be famous?” It’s always
like this—different people, different networks, but always the same
conversation. At this point, I could play a tape recorder and they would get
the same result. That doesn’t matter now, though. I’m focused on my lesson with
Sam.

At the end of the
interview, they all blow smoke up my ass. This is just par for the course. I
humor them for a while, wondering if they actually care and if I actually want
the fame at all.

Not a moment too
soon, the driver texts me to meet him at the end of the pier in five minutes. I
wait as security holds back the crowd and I sign scores of autographs in the
meantime. The driver pulls up and opens the door with Jaime waiting for me
inside. I wave to the fans and jump into the SUV.

“Hey man, how’s it
going?”

Jaime looks excited.
“Hey Mick, get in—we need to talk!”