Surge : A Stepbrother Romance (6 page)

       
“What do you mean, a girlfriend?”

       
“Read the caption.”

        @TMN “Looks like Mick has found a
new boo. Who is this mystery woman? #doesyourgirlfirendknow”

        @Thesurfersgirl
“If he found a new boo he
didn’t tell me #wearebrokenupnowmick”

        Mick walks out of the bathroom, unaware that I
know any of this. My blood is boiling and I can feel my face getting red. I
respond calmly, even though I’m ready to have a conniption fit.

“Mick, get the fuck out!”

Chapter
10 Mick – Caught

        I chuckled a little, “What? What are you
talking about?”

        “Mick, you have five seconds to get out and
never come back.”

        “What did I do?!”

        “Who is @Thesurfergirl.  Who is the girl on
Twitter claiming to be your girlfriend, Mick? Who?!”

        I have definitely been caught with my hand in
the cookie jar. Stealing cookies. How am I going to get out of this one?

        “Sam, I can explain. It’s not what you think…”

        Up to this moment, Sam has been calm, but now she
loses her cool. She seems so angry and hurt. I feel terrible, but things are over
with me and Delia. She will just have to understand that.

        “Get out!” she shrieks at me. “Get out, get
out, get out, get out!”

        She is screaming like a child having a temper
tantrum. I stand in front of her, still shocked, not moving until she begins to
walk over to me. The look on her face necessitates a flight response.
I
better get my clothes
.

I know how Delia can be
in these situations, and though I’m sure Sam isn’t the same person, I’m not
about to take that risk. Sam rushes and pushes me out of the room. She
continues to push me to the front door with a surprising amount of strength. When
I get to the door, I realize she’s not going to be convinced, or even listen to
me, so I open the door myself. It’s probably best I come back at another time.
Maybe I will take one last shot at convincing her.

“Sam, I can explain everything.”

“How could you be smiling
at a time like this? You can’t just go around and play with people’s feelings! You
truly are an asshole. Now get the fuck out!”
        “Well, I had a nice time.” I say in a frail attempt to dislodge her.

        “You’re an asshole, Mick. Don’t call me
again.”

        With that last word, Sam slams the door in my
face. I stand in the hallway, holding my clothes, virtually naked. I get
dressed and consider knocking on the door again, but realize that would do nothing
for my cause. It’s upsetting to me that I’ve ended up in this predicament. I have
no feelings for Delia, only for Sam. Regardless, I am pretty sure I will be
able to explain this all away—it’ll just take time.

***

        After a long day of dealing with Jaime and
damage control, I am finally able to go home. I pull into my driveway, only to
see Delia’s car there. Knowing the kind of person she is, I took the precaution
of changing all the locks. She is standing outside her car, leaning against the
bumper and smiling at me as I drive up. What a nightmare this is going to be. After
a day like today, all I want to do is go inside and relax.

        I get out of my car and look at her with a
limited expression on my face. Delia runs over and hugs me like nothing has
happened. She must have torn and shredded twenty thousand dollars’ worth of
clothes and gear. She is fucked!

        “Mick, I am so happy to see you. I think we
need to talk this thing out and get past it.”

        “Delia, I don’t want to get past it. Our time together
is over. You left after tearing up all of my things. Again. We are done, Delia.”

        She instantly begins to cry, but that doesn’t
work on me. “Please, Mick, don’t do this to me. We have been through so much. I
want to be with you. I need you in my life.”

        “All of that may be true, Delia, but we are
done. I don’t want, or need, you in my life anymore.”

        I feel cold and callous for being so abrupt,
but this is what she needs to hear. The tears begin again. I walk by her,
trying to get to the door of my house, hoping she’ll just go away. Delia
dramatically falls to the ground and clings to my leg like a child. I place my
hand on my head and shake it back and forth.

        “Delia, what will it take for you to go away? You
don’t love me anymore and I don’t love you, so what are you after? Why do you
want to continue this?”

        “I don’t want to continue this. I never loved
you. I was only in it for the money.”

        “So you’re telling me this is all an act?”

        “Maybe I am, and maybe I’m not.”

        “You know what, Delia? I’m not interested in
playing these games. Find your way off the property, or I will call the cops.”

        Delia slowly stands up, her expression
changed. She is now facing me eye to eye. It is as threatening a gesture as it
could be. With a resounding blow, she slaps me in the face. It stings and causes
me to bend forward. As I do, she spits in my hair.
What a psycho.

        “What the fuck, Delia?”

        “Fuck you, Mick. This isn’t over.”

        She turns around jumps into her car—the car I
bought her—and drives away. I watch as she leaves, still rubbing my cheek. What
the fuck has become of my life? A few days ago, I had everything under control,
and now it’s all out of whack. I need a good night’s rest and a little
perspective.

        What I really need to do is get things back on
track with Sam. It’s my honest belief that no matter what I do, there is no
woman who can resist my charms. All I have to do is turn them on. Employ some
skills and a little romance, and Sam will come running back to me. Time to send
the flowers. I dial the number of my favorite florist and order two dozen roses
to her house. The note attached reads,

       
Let’s not deny what we have together. I can
explain it all, if you just give me the chance.

       
Now all I have to
do is sit by the phone and wait. The good thing about that florist is they are
open late, so Sam will get the flowers tonight and probably call me really soon.

        As I’m eating dinner, I nervously glance at the clock. It has been over
an hour and no call. Perhaps the florist is busy. I pick up the phone and call them
to ask if they have delivered the flowers.

        “Yes, Mick, they went out right away. We
delivered the flowers more than forty minutes ago.”

        “Okay. Thanks.”

       
        As I hang up the phone, the unfamiliar pang of rejection sets in. It
does not sit well. I need to know how Sam feels, and I need to know now! Picking
up my phone, I send her a text.

        “
Did you get the flowers I sent?”

        There is still no response. I wait around
another hour, but she still doesn’t text me back. Damn, Sam’s a tough one, or
maybe she’s just out for the night. That’s probably it. When I go to San Onofre
tomorrow, I will be able to talk to her face to face.

        The sound of breaking glass interrupts my
thoughts. The alarm sounds and my heart leaps straight into my throat. I run to
where the noise originated to see what’s happening. A fire is burning my living
room. The bamboo floors are no match for the flames and are instantly engulfed.
The long, white drapes are hastily burning to the ceiling. It’s a big fire. My
eyes follow the wreckage of window shards and I notice a bottle with a rag in
it, lying broken on the floor. I can hear sirens in the distance, even as I’m
rushing for a fire extinguisher. There’s one in the kitchen. I stumble to pull
the pin and run back to where the fire is. I spray it as best I can to try and
put out the flames, but it is not enough—the fire has just gotten bigger. It’s
time for me to either die in this house, or save myself.

As I run out of the house,
a piece of wood falls from the ceiling, striking me in the back. It stings and makes
me realize that getting out now is the right thing to do. I open the door and stand
outside, awaiting the firetrucks.

Chapter
11 Samantha – A lover scorned

        “Mick, get the fuck out! I don’t ever want to
talk to you again!”

        Slamming the door behind me, I am immediately
brought to tears.
How is it that I keep letting this happen to me? Am I some
kind of love idiot?
One thing is for sure: I do not want to get into a
situation like I was in before with John. Sometimes I wonder if I am meant to
find love at all.

I can’t believe I let Mick
fuck me. Again. Tears stream down my face as I fall asleep, wracked by sobs.

        My alarm shocks me awake. It’s eight a.m. and
I have a lesson at nine.
No time to go for an early morning surf
. Recalling
the events of the night before, my mood immediately sours. I quickly pack my
bag and rush out the door. Arriving at the beach, I empty the van and begin
prepping all the gear. An older couple approaches me, holding hands. They look
very much in love. Being so lost in my thoughts, it takes me a while to catch
on to who they are.

        “Hi, are you Sam?” It’s the McCalls, here for
their nine a.m. lesson.

        “Yes, I am. You must be the McCalls.”

        “We are, and we’re ready for our lesson.”

        “Perfect, let’s get started.”

        I take them through the same lesson I’ve
taught a million times before. Today it seemed monotonous, somewhat cold and
uncaring. Perhaps because I am too consumed with my own problems to remember
this is supposed to be a fun time for them. It pained me to watch them holding
hands, helping each other, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. That kind
of love seems so far away for me. I must have been staring too long as Mr. McCall—or
Jim, as he asked me to call him—turns to me and begins to speak.

        “Do you have a boyfriend?” The question seemed
overly intrusive.

        “What?! Oh, no… not really. Well, it’s
complicated.”

        “Young lady, it’s always complicated. Is that
what is on your mind? Is that why you seem so distracted?” There is something
about his face that makes me feel like I can talk to him. He’s a kindly
gentleman who has obviously seen his share of ups and downs.

        “Yes. I’m sorry, has this lesson not been what
you wanted?”

        “The lesson has been great. You’re a wonderful
teacher. But can I give you a piece of advice?” he asks with a somber look on
his face.

        I shrug. “I guess I could use a little advice
right now.”

        “I am not a man of infinite wisdom, but there
are some things I do understand. So forgive me if I am sounding too much like a
Hallmark card. Love is not about where you start, but where you finish. At the
start of anything, it is complicated, but there is something to be said for
perseverance. Love is not easy—not always. It is easy to be in love when
everything is good, but true love is staying in love when things are hard. When
I met my wife, I was in a relationship, but it was a lifeless, soul-draining
relationship. She freed me from the confines of it, and fifty years later, we
are still together.”

        As if I wasn’t consumed in thought before, his
prophetic words thrust me deeply into thought now. Jim seems so happy, so much
in love. I never gave Mick a chance to explain. I at least owe him that. Maybe
he is in a relationship that is stifling. Maybe he wanted out long ago. I won’t
know unless I ask. Before I can turn to thank him, he and his wife are already
waving goodbye and making their way down the beach.

I stand, silently staring
at them as they hold hands. I wish I had someone to hold my hand. Just before
they leave my sight, Jim turns around and nods, as if to say, “I know where you
are. I have been there before.”

        I sit awhile, staring out at the ocean,
wondering what the best next steps are. Am I being naïve to think of talking to
Mick, or am I being naïve if I don’t? I have no idea anymore. I don’t remember
packing up the van, nor do I remember much about the drive home. My mind was
just that consumed in thought.

        As I pull into the garage, I am numb. Tonight,
the van can stay full. There is too much to think about, and honestly, the thinking
has exhausted me. Walking out of the garage in a daze, I don’t notice someone
standing right in front of me.

        “Hello, Sam.”

        My heart pounds. I recognize that voice. That is
a voice I will never forget. It runs through me like a paper cut. Slowly, I
turn, hoping the voice will not match the person I know it belongs to.

        I look into the eyes of my abusive ex and
swallow thickly. “…hello, John.”

        “Where have you been, Sam? I have been looking
all over for you.” The creep factor in his voice is like something out of a
horror movie. I’m scared.
Very
scared.

        “Uh, I have been around. Just wanted a change
of scenery.”

        Thankfully, my phone is in my hand. Long ago, I
made preparations for this very moment. All I have to do is press and hold 7 on
my phone, and it will text the local police a message.

       
This is an automated message of distress. I
cannot tell you what it is, but most likely I am being attacked by my abusive ex-boyfriend.
I added my address into the phone when I got my new place and I am thankful
I did.

       
“You know I don’t
like when you go away. Why don’t you come back home with me?”

       
I realize, at this
point, I am in some trouble. I press and hold 7 several times, hoping that the
message works. There is no way I can look down—that would be too telling. My
best play here is to stall John as long as I can until the police arrive.

        “John, I think we need to talk about this. Can
you do me a favor, though? It is always so hard for me to get all the boards and
gear out of the van. Can you help with that?”

        “Of course you need help. You never could do
these things on your own.”

        Ah, that didn’t take long. Already starting
with me. I bite my tongue so as not to respond. If he only knew now who I was,
he would eat those words. Regardless, now I have some time. John grabs me and
begins hugging me. It is difficult, but I fake the enjoyment of his touch. John
moves in for a kiss.

        “John, let’s get the work out of the way
first.”

        John grunts his dissatisfaction, but eventually
relents. He smiles and backs away. His touch feels like someone has stuck a
needle in my back.

As John gets into the van
to remove more of the supplies, it dawns on me. I am going to lock him in the
van. If I can close the doors quickly enough, I’ll have enough time to run away
and call the cops. The timing is critical. John begins to speak again.

        “So, I assume your business is not doing as
well as you thought.”

        “Well, we are doing okay. I am just at the
start so… things are survivable.”

        “Haha, you were always such a dreamer. Not to
worry, I can support you.”

        “Yeah, that would be nice.” I hate pretending
I need him.

        I watch as John begins to inch his way deeper
into the van. It has to be the perfect moment. If I miss, it will not end well.
I feel my phone buzz in my pocket. I want to look, but the fear of him finding
out what I’m up to is too great.

        “John, can you pass me the sheet there on the
front seat?”

        “Yeah, sure.”

        As John reaches forward, I lunge for the
doors. The surprised look on his face as the doors close is priceless. He
almost loses his finger. I run back to the driver’s side door. That’s the only
one that can be opened from the inside, once the car is locked. Leaning on the
door with my back, I press my feet on the wall, jamming it shut. The sounds of
John screaming should help to alert the neighbors. He threatens me, pointing
his finger and shaking it. I can hold this door for a while, as long as the
police will eventually get here.

John begins to try and
kick out the window. I did not think of that. Now I have to run.

I hear the crash of glass
and know John is close behind. I wish I would have run sooner. Looking over my
shoulder, I see he is in hot pursuit. The gap between us quickly evaporates and
he grabs me by the wrist. He begins to drag me back to the house with one hand
over my mouth and the other around my wrist. Screaming into John’s hand does nothing
and no one comes out to save me. Trying to dig my heels into the ground is
pointless, as he just carries me. We are now at the garage door. Taking the
keys from my pocket, he opens the door to my house and drags me in, locking up
behind him. Never have I felt a fear as deeply as I feel it now.

        “You little whore, you haven’t changed one
bit. Now you are going to get it.”

        John takes off his belt and lifts it over his
head as I cower on the floor, awaiting my fate.