Step, Page 2

But all the nipple sucking and deep French kissing in the world wasn't making me hard. Two blue pills, three hot girls and all that vodka? I should have been relaxed and hard as a bat by now.

  If the girls noticed, they didn't say anything. Eventually we were all naked. The party moved into the bedroom—and things took an erotic turn fast. The two dark-haired vamps fell onto the bed with Pink and began attacking her pussy. Soon, they were all thrusting fingers and licking and squealing atop the bed.

  Head pounding and heart racing, I stroked my semi-hard shaft with one hand and gripped a tequila bottle in the other. There were men who would give their left nuts to be standing in my spot, but I couldn’t get into it. It just wasn't as exciting as it used to be.

  Every single fuck had to be more depraved and wilder. It was like a competition to outdo myself. One girl. Two girls. Three girls. Sex toys. Kink. What the hell happened to slow and easy? What happened to simple lovemaking? Why the hell couldn't I find a woman who cared about me? About the real me? About the Step who existed behind the lead singer?

  Listen to you! You're getting soft, old man.

  I was getting soft in more ways than one. My cock wouldn't cooperate, and my frustration level started to rise. I took three long gulps of the tequila I had brought into the bedroom and hissed as it burned its way down my throat. When I lowered the bottle, I noticed I was swaying on my feet. The scene in front of me—the three women writhing with ecstasy—blurred, and I blinked rapidly.

  I tried to shake it off, but this wasn't going away. I swallowed anxiously and felt my knees start to shake. Shit. Maybe the warning about mixing the dick pills with alcohol was right.

  Desperate to sit down, I took one step toward the bed—and fell forward in a dead faint..

  Chapter Two

  Jemima

  Rubbing at my tired eyes, I yawned loudly and reached into the refrigerator for a cold soda. I cracked the tab and took a long drink before setting it aside and putting together my brown bag lunch. When I pulled out the plastic container where I stowed deli meat and cheese, I realized we were running low. I hastily calculated the days between now and my next paycheck and closed the box without making a sandwich. Today an extra apple and some peanut butter would have to round out my carrots and whole wheat crackers.

  With my lunch packed, I returned to my bedroom and slipped into the perky pink uniform provided by the five star hotel where I worked as a maid. I pulled on a pair of low cut socks and the ugly but comfortable white shoes I had polished last night before going to bed. I styled my hair into a tightly coiled French twist—one of the three hairstyles permitted within the new strict dress code—and turned to the side to check my reflection.

  I slid my hand down the front of the dress and made sure there were no wrinkles in the highly starched outfit. Our housekeeping manager was forgiving, but the new hotel manager was a real hard ass about our appearances. He was the one who had insisted we switch from the more comfortable tunics and slacks to these dresses. Apparently some hotel guests found our old uniforms frumpy and unappealing. Why we needed to look cute and perky to scrub toilets and bathtubs I would never understand!

  Glancing at my watch, I snatched up my starched white apron and left my bedroom. I stopped in front of my younger brother's door and rapped my knuckles against it. "Benji? Are you up?" When I heard nothing, I knocked harder. "Benji! Come on, bro. You need to get into the shower and get moving. Benji!"

  Bracing myself for the inevitable smell of dirty socks and that nose-wrinkling teenage boy bouquet of hormones and angst that seemed to linger in his room, I opened the door and poked my head inside his room. "Benji? Are you listening to me?"

  My gaze landed on his empty bed. A long stream of cuss words left my mouth as I realized he had sneaked out of the house sometime after I had crashed out with exhaustion. Before I could even process how pissed off I truly was, I heard the unmistakable squeal of the back door's hinges. I let the bedroom door slipped closed behind me and strode down the narrow hallway of the single wide mobile home.

  When I reached the living room, I caught Benji tiptoeing across the kitchen. He froze at the sight of me. Taking in his nearly all black outfit, I didn't have to guess where he had been. The dark eyeliner smudged under his eyes? The studded leather cuffs circling his wrists? The band tee stamped with the S&M logo? He had been at the Sinister Mayhem show down at Slaughterhouse that I had expressly forbidden him to attend.

  Exhaling roughly, I put a hand on my hip and waited for him to speak first. He ran his fingers along one of his dreds and nervously flicked his lip ring with his tongue. "I'm not going to stand here and bullshit you about being sorry, Jem. Because I'm not sorry about going." He flashed that mischievous grin of his. "But I am sorry I got caught."

  "This isn't funny, Benji. What if you had gotten into a wreck? Or been injured in a mosh pit? What if you had been arrested for being underage in a Twenty-One-or-Over club?"

  "It was Eighteen-and-Up tonight."

  "And you're fifteen!"

  "Sixteen next week!"

  "If you live that long."

  "Come on, Jem. Don't be like that."

  "Don't!" I shook my head and rubbed my tired face between my hands. Feeling so much older than my twenty-one years, I fought the stressed out tears that pricked at my eyes. "Benji, we are two months into the school year, and the office has already called me three times for your unexcused absences. I get that you think this is some big fucking joke, but the school district is going to slap me with truancy charges and fines. How the hell do you expect me to pay for that?"

  Not letting him answer that, I barreled on, "We are in a precarious position here with DFPS. A few more strikes, and they'll take you away from me and toss you in foster care or a group home."

  Benji's expression turned serious. He gulped and glanced at his feet. "I'm sorry, Jem."

  "Don't be sorry, Benji. Just do better. Okay? You've got to help me out here." I closed the distance between us and grasped his hand. He glanced up at me, and I could see the regret darkening his eyes. I reminded myself that he was still young and dumb and prone to making really boneheaded decisions. "Listen, I love you. You're my brother, and I would do freaking anything for you. Anything, Benji. But I need you to meet me halfway, bro."

  He surprised me by unexpectedly embracing me. Crushed in his arms, I realized just how damned big he was getting. He was closing in on six feet, and I could tell where all the groceries were going. He was filling out and turning hard with muscle. Gone was the slightly chubby thirteen-year-old boy I had petitioned and fought the state to gain guardianship over. Here stood a young man on the cusp of adulthood—and I was scared to death I was going to screw him up. I struggled so hard to find the balance of firm disciplinarian to loving sister that he required. I wanted him to be a good man. I wanted him to make something of his life. I wanted Benji to get out of this trailer park and away from the cycle of drugs and violence that had put our mother in prison.

  "I didn't mean to upset you like this, Jem. I just—I really wanted to go to this show." He released me slowly and stepped back. "I won't do something this stupid again."

  I touched his cheek and smiled up at him. "You probably will."

  He snorted. "Yeah. Probably."

  I flicked the silver hoop dangling from his lip. "Take that shit out before you go to school, all right? And those too." I pointed at the spider bite piercings on the left side of his mouth and then the barbell in his eyebrow. "You know the school rules." He attended a magnet school for gifted students, and they had a more relaxed policy when it came to their dress code. And thank God! Because he loved pushing the line. "One nose stud and two earrings. That's it, Benji."

  "Yeah, I know." His tongue piercing knocked against his teeth. "Principal Nguyen gave me a pass on this one." He flashed the barbell between his lips. "But I won't push it with these."

  "Thank you." I shook my head at the mess of makeup on his face. "There are some makeup remover wipes in my bathroom ca
binet. You better attack your eyes and cheeks with those first." I picked up his hand again and clicked my teeth at his nail polish. "There's some acetone in that same cabinet. Get those clean." I wrinkled my nose. "And take a shower! You stink of pot and beer and sweat and God only knows what else!"

  "I stink of fun!" He reared back and started furiously grinding on an air guitar. "Man, Jem, you should have seen Leif! He was awesome! And Step? His voice was full-on last night. He's totally recovered from that surgery he had earlier this year."

  "I hope you grabbed some video on your phone to keep you amused because your behind isn't leaving this house for two weeks." I waited for him to whine and wheedle, but he showed a bit of my maturity by simply nodding.

  "Yeah. Okay, Jem."

  "Go on." I gestured toward the back of our trailer. "Get cleaned up and get ready for school. You need to eat before you grab the bus. Don't forget to make your lunch. Pack your inhaler, too."

  "I didn't smoke last night. I swear, Jem." He drew a little "X" over his heart. "I'm not stupid enough to put myself back in the hospital."

  The last time he had lit up with a couple of friends over the summer, he had ended up in the hospital for three days after an asthma attack from hell. I was still paying off that nightmare and probably would be making payments to the hospital until late next year.

  "You light up anything again, and I swear I'm going to pull a Mrs. Rodriguez and go after your behind with a sandal."

  The mention of our neighborhood's matriarch and her penchant for whacking bottoms with that thick-soled chancla of hers made Benji smile. "I'd like to see you try and catch me."

  "I might not be able to catch you, but I bet Mrs. Rodriguez's boys can. Then I'll let her apply that sandal to your backside."

  "Fair enough." He said with a laugh and started across the living room. He paused at the small loveseat that was piled high with neatly tied stacks of cleaned, pressed and folded clothing. "Jem! Did you get up early to do these? Because they weren't here when I snuck out last night."

  "They had to be done." I didn't mention that we needed the extra cash I earned by doing laundry for the single oilfield workers who lived in our trailer park. His magnet school was free, but all of the activities and trips and school projects he worked on were expensive. Now that our health insurance rates had gone up, our budget was even tighter than normal. Plus Christmas was right around the corner.

  "At four in the morning, Jem?" He glanced back at the stacks of clothing. "I'll deliver them when I get home. Friday is early release, and there's no robotics lab today."

  "Thank you." It was one less errand I had to tackle when I got home.

  "I don't like the way those guys look at you anyway. I'll start doing the drop-offs from now on," he decided.

  I didn't argue with him. Frankly, I was relieved. Getting invitations for private turn-down service from skeevy businessmen was bad enough, but having guys who lived down the street trying to pat my ass and making dirty remarks about their underwear was just too much. "They're all labeled. Everyone has paid up except for Jerry down on Twilight Ave. He has a balance on his receipt, but he's good for it."

  "I'll take care of it. Do you want me to make dinner?"

  "Sure." I glanced at my watch again and grabbed my sack lunch. "I'm going to try to pick up an extra shift at the hotel."

  "Don't be too late," he warned. "We're going to see Mom tomorrow, remember?"

  "I remember," I assured him. Visiting our mother up at the Henley State Jail wasn't something I was likely to forget. We tried to get up there to see her once a month, but with Benji's birthday, I had decided to take him twice this month. "Make sure you have a nice outfit. Something the duty warden will approve."

  "I will," he promised. "I'll roll some change tonight."

  Visitors were allowed to bring rolls of quarters to weekend visitation. Mom and Benji could burn through twenty-five dollars at those vending machines faster than any two people I had ever seen. When we had a little extra, we took it with us and gave it to other families waiting to visit their loved ones. It was hard enough for Benji to see Mom locked up in the pen. I couldn't imagine what it was like for the really little kids who had to be searched and swiped with metal detector wands before visiting their mamas. Sometimes a cold soda and a candy bar meant more than just a sugar rush.

  Lunch and apron in hand, I swiped my purse from the cheap bookcase near the front door. "Be good today, Benji."

  "I will."

  "Try to stay awake in class."

  "I will."

  "Come straight home after class."

  "I will, Jem." Exasperation filled his voice. "Will you just go to work already?"

  To really rile him up, I leaned over and pecked his cheek. He reacted with the expected disgust. "Man, Jem! That's gross."

  Laughing, I left the house and carefully descended the rickety front steps. The sun was just starting to rise and turn the horizon a soft pink. Across the street, I spotted Shay Sandoval pulling into her driveway. Like me, she worked ridiculous hours and too many jobs. Unlike me, she had managed to stay in college. Right now, she was part of a cleaning crew that tackled businesses after-hours and also waitressed third shift at a diner near some of the oil refineries. How she had the energy to do it all perplexed me.

  The roar of a motorcycle drew my attention. I recognized the rider as Spider, the man who owned the trailer park. He was also the VP for the Calaveras outlaw motorcycle club and not a man I ever wanted to cross. Of course, he had only ever been kind to me.

  So, when he pulled up in front of our house and motioned for me to come talk to him, I didn't dally. "Morning, Spider."

  "Good morning, Jem. How's Benji?"

  "He's good."

  "He's staying out of trouble?"

  "Mostly."

  Spider laughed. "He's a teenager. That's probably the best you can hope for."

  "I think you're probably right."

  He toyed with his helmet strap. "Listen, I don't want to keep you. I know you've got to get to work."

  "I do."

  "I heard that Jackie is back in town."

  I blinked at that piece of news. Benji's father and my stepfather had skipped town not long after our mother had gone to prison.

  "He's in trouble, Jem."

  "What kind of trouble?"

  "He robbed a house where they were cooking some meth. I guess he stole a bunch of product. Needless to say, he's on a lot of shit lists today."

  "Great."

  "You two need to be careful, okay? I doubt anyone is stupid enough to try to make a move on my property, but you never know with these crack heads and tweakers."

  "We'll be careful." I smiled at him. "Thank you for the heads-up."

  "If you need anything…"

  "I know where to find you." I stepped back and watched him ride away from the house before sliding behind the wheel of my vehicle. I hastily typed out a text to Benji, telling him the details about his bio-dad and urging him to be careful.

  B: We'll be fine. Jackie isn't going to come anywhere near us.

  It wasn't Jackie that had me worried.

  Seated behind the wheel of my rundown minivan, I prayed the damn thing would start and not act crazy every time I accelerated or the gears shifted. I needed to get it into the shop but that meant I had to have the money to pay for a mechanic and parts. Please start. Just get me to work. Please.

  The old beast started up without a fuss, and I relaxed in the lumpy seat. I had bought the minivan on one of those fly-by-night car lots. It was closing in on two hundred thousand miles, and I didn't know how many more it could handle.

  Because the air conditioner was shot in the car, I rolled down the windows as I pulled out of the driveway. Fall hadn’t brought much of a reprieve from the heat, and this warm, muggy October morning was no different. I peeked at the lightening skyline as I drove away from the park and worried my lower lip. The higher the sun climbed, the more storm clouds I could see. I reached over and s
witched on the radio. It took a few twists of the knob to find a station giving a weather report.

  "…hot and muggy today. Tropical Storm Leo made that slight left turn we had been expecting and the forecast track has shifted. We're showing a direct hit from this storm and expect landfall late Sunday afternoon. This storm has the potential to produce high, damaging winds and flash flooding…"

  I grimaced and turned the radio to my favorite channel. I needed the upbeat pop music to get me through the construction traffic on I-45. As I crawled along the interstate, I ran through my mental checklist for the coming storm. We had been spared hurricanes and big storms the last few years, but it seemed that luck was about to change.

  I shuddered at the memories of Tropical Storm Allison. We had lived in a different mobile home then, a really nice double wide in a different area of Houston, but Allison's storm waters had flooded and uprooted it. Mom and Jackie had been high out of their minds at a friend's house when the storm hit. Benji and I had nearly drowned.

  That had been the first time DFPS was all up in our business. Not long after our parents got us out of foster care, we had done a series of midnight moves and ended up in progressively worse rent houses and apartments. Mom and Jackie had gotten dragged into the local meth trade—and—well…

  But I really didn't want to think about any of that right now.

  Already tired and so hungry, I pulled into my usual parking spot in the employee lot and headed into the hotel. After clocking in, dropping off my purse and lunch in my locker and tying my apron at the small of my back, I made my way into the employee dining room for our free continental breakfast and morning meeting. I grabbed some bacon, cold cereal, milk and a banana and went to the back table where my friends congregated.

  Raucous laughter and hastily spoken Spanish fired back and forth across the table. I was welcomed with smiles and a gentle, fatherly pat on the back from Miguel, a maintenance supervisor. I tucked into my breakfast and listened to the chit-chat. Even though neither of my parents were Latino, I spoke Spanish like a natural and was soon talking to Lupe about her son who went to the same magnet school as Benji.