II
My bags are in a pile outside of the taxi as I stare up at our new, obnoxiously large house.
“You like?” my mom says with a gesture and a mimosa in hand. She’s standing beside the front door with my new stepdad, Walter, smiling like an utter goof behind her.
“It’s great.”
“The curtains still aren’t up yet but they’re coming to do them tomorrow.” She gives me a kiss on my cheek and Walter helps me with my other bags.
“Oh? Thanks for…letting me know, Mom,” I reply as we walk inside.
“We’re so happy you’re back, sweetie. We missed you at the wedding.”
“Yeah, well, duty calls, you know?”
I force a smile. I didn’t want to cut my Europe tour short for my mom’s impromptu wedding with this Hollywood big wig. I’m still not entirely sure of Walter’s career but I know he’s one of those old men in suits who create Summer blockbuster garbage. In fact, I didn’t pry at all into the man who seemed another of my mother’s bad decisions in the opposite sex. She’d only known the guy two months before deciding to elope while I was overseas trying to “find myself”. The text message arrived as I was in a bar in Spain. I took another shot and didn’t reply until the following morning with a nonchalant ‘Congratulations xo’.
This house is huge and comes Hollywood Hills post code plus a view worth a good few million dollars extra on the price tag. This is my new home for the next year as I work on building my design business from the ground up. I suppose there’s worse places I could be stuck than in a house with a marbled foyer.
“Your room is in here,” Walter says gesturing into a capacious lower floor bedroom full of a few duffle bags and musical equipment.
“We’ll have Ryan move his stuff out when he gets in too,” Walter says, inspecting his Rolex. “He shouldn’t be too far away now.”
The name is familiar but I have yet to meet this stranger who I’m now legally related to. Ryan is Walter’s son and supposedly a little older than my age of twenty-two. That is as far as my knowledge of him extends. The minimalist interior of the house leaves little flexibility for family photos on the walls so that I may see this new brother of mine— Not that I care all that much to learn about him. Keeping my distance from this family will make the day my mom divorces Walter’s ass all that much simpler.
“So, sweetie, you freshen up. We’re having Chef prepare a lovely barbecue meal for us by the pool in an hour or so if that suits you. We’re so happy to have you back.”
III
After stepping out of my ensuite’s luxurious rainfall shower that’s about the size of my old bedrooms, I look into the mirror to my pale face that has been lacking the California sun. “You can do this. Just one year,” I whisper.
Anybody else would surely be happy to move into such a luxurious abode but not me— Not when I know this is just another mistake of my mom’s that will result in her third messy divorce and her bunking us up in another dreary studio apartment.
The bathroom door clicks open before I even have a towel wrapped around me.
“Oh, shit,” I say as my heart falls out my ass and I throw my arms quickly around my naked, quivering body.
Standing there in the doorway is a six-foot-four shirtless hunk with muscular arms covered in tattoos and disheveled dark hair. I catch him smile before he shields his face from my naked form with both his hands…Though he doesn’t leave.
“Excuse me? Dude, get the hell out!”
“There’s a lock for a reason, Sweetheart.”
He closes the door again and I do a full body blush. “What the fuck?” I whisper and promptly wrap a towel around my body.
I couldn’t get a good enough look at his face to see if this man who peeped on my bared any resemblance to Walter. If he did, surely this was Ryan. But then again, this guy was buff enough to perhaps be my mom’s personal trainer or resident
T. K. F. Weisskopf Mark L. Van Name