DEVIL: A Stepbrother Romance (14 page)

“
C
ome on Annie
,” Dad yelled. “You’re going to be late!”

I trudged down the stairs, pulling a heavy suitcase behind me. It clunked as I descended each step.

“What’s with that thing?” Dad asked. “We’re only going to be there a couple days.”

I shrugged. “I want to be prepared for anything.”

Dad rolled his eyes, and I followed him out to the car. Mom was already sitting in the passenger side waiting patiently to leave.

We were flying out to Florida to see Mitch play against The Hurricanes and had only an hour and a half before the plane took off. Dad helped lift my suitcase in the trunk, and soon we we’re cruising down the freeway at breakaway speed.

Thankfully, we made it to the airport just in time for check-in last call, and the plane started down the runway almost immediately after we boarded. I settled in to my first-class seat, courtesy of Mitch, and thought about the past few days. The day before was weird; I had been whipped back into reality and sat at home in my tiny bedroom virtually the entire day. It was a stark contrast to the exciting night of my graduation at the club and in Mitch’s mansion.

I missed that excitement.

It had also been impossible for me to shake the image of Mitch’s naked body standing in his bedroom. I tried to cough it up hormones, the fact that I had never been with a man sexually and the fact I didn’t know any other girls my age who hadn’t done the deed yet. It was probably my internal clock telling me that I needed to get some experience under my belt.

Raymond would’ve probably been my first if he hadn’t tried to rush things. Up until I got in his bed, he seemed like a great guy. He wasn’t near the caliber of Mitch, but where the hell am I going to find anyone like him? Mitch was successful, muscular, handsome, and took care of his family–I shook my head and rolled my eyes. I
really
needed to stop thinking about him.

The plane ride was just a little more than 4 hours long, and soon after we were unloading our taxi in front of a 5-star hotel that was right beside the University of Miami campus. The hotel was a huge, white skyscraper, and inside the large lobby all the furnishings were adorned in shiny gold. Bellhops wearing pressed blue suits and white gloves saluted us and took our bags as soon as we entered, pushing them on carts across the shiny marble floor. It was rich, but every time Mitch put us up in a room somewhere, it was never anything less. He had also been thoughtful enough to reserve two rooms for us–one for the rents and an adjacent one for me.

Our arrival time was closely aligned with the start of the football game, so I had no time to check everything in the room out. As soon as the bellhop dropped off my bag, I combed my hair, checked my makeup, and by then Mom and Dad were knocking on my door, telling me it was time to head out again.

Another taxi brought us to the stadium, and we waded through the crowd to our front row seats. The college games were a lot different than Mitch’s high school games. The trumpets were louder, the crowds were wilder, and the bright lights and music made it feel like a spectacle.

Shortly after we sat down, the announcer called out my brother’s team, and as soon as number 41 stepped on to field, the crowd roared and I could hear a few people chanting, “Wrecker! Wrecker!” I laughed at that… Even in a rival stadium, my brother had a lot of fans.

The music grew louder as the home team was called in, The Miami Hurricanes, who had been playing exceptionally well that season. UCLA went undefeated last year and were still undefeated this year, thanks to Mitch, and people were saying that if any team could put a stop to the crazy winning streak, it would be Miami. The crowd cheered loud for the home team, and the fans of my brother quieted down ‘til the fanfare was over.

“Do you want anything to drink?” Dad asked as he stood up. “I’m going to go pick us up some refreshments.”

“I’ll have a coke,” I replied.

“Get me a water, Frank. And hurry back fast. You’re going to miss the kick off.”

“It’s alright,” Dad said. “UCLA is starting off on defense. We won’t see Mitch play until the ball is turned over.”

Dad scuttled off to get our drinks, and soon after, the ball was kicked off to Miami. They ran the ball down the field and scored a first down. Then they scored another first down and another first down, and eventually they had scored the first goal of the game. They virtually overwhelmed the defense, and they were celebrating when Dad returned.

“What? They already scored a goal?” Dad whined.

“It’s no big deal, honey. It’s just one goal,” Mom said.

After Miami tacked on another point via a field goal, the UCLA offense took the field. When we saw Mitch running out, all 3 of us stood, clapped our hands, and wailed, “Go Mitch! Go!”

Once the ball was kicked off, UCLA went about their usual strategy, which was handing the ball off to Mitch on virtually every play. And as usual, Mitch scored a few first downs and then ran it into the end zone for a touchdown. Mitch pointed the ball at the defenders as he scored and slammed the ball down, taunting the other team.

We all wailed again, and I could hear the chants of “Wrecker! Wrecker!” from Mitch’s fans starting up again.

UCLA scored an extra point and the game was tied when The Hurricanes went back on the offensive. This time, UCLA was able to stop the other team from scoring, and UCLA went back on the offensive after the 4
^th
or 5
^th
play.

Everyone expected a repeat of what we had seen in previous play, a handoff to Mitch and the eventual score after a few attempts, but this time it was different. Mitch stepped on to the field and he stopped before he got in position. His eyes looked out into the stands, scanning for something in particular, spinning his body around slowly until he was facing towards Mom, Dad, and I. It would’ve been hard to see us from the field, but he paused and stared as if he had seen something disturbing, shook is head slightly, and then turned around.

“Was Mitch looking at us?” I asked Dad.

“I don’t think so honey,” Dad replied. “Probably just looking for the scoreboard or something.” It didn’t make any sense as there was a scoreboard on every side of the stadium, but I just it go.

UCLA lined up, hiked the ball, and the Quarterback handed the ball off to Mitch. He charged forward at lightning speed, and the fans went wild. A large defender jumped directly in front of Mitch, and everyone expected him to just plow through the defender with his usual Wrecker style, but instead the defender slammed into Mitch with a tremendous force, and Mitch went flying backwards, his head snapping back and smacking hard onto the ground.

When the defender stood up, Mitch wasn’t moving, and my parents and I stood to our feet.

“Oh god. That looked horrible,” Mom said.

“I’m sure he’s alright, Kim. Mitch is tough,” Dad assured her.

After a few more moments, Mitch’s coach rushed on to the field along with a group of medics, two of them carrying a stretcher. My heart started racing, and I heard Mom gasp. The whole stadium seemed to have grown quiet in an instant.

O
n my way to Miami
, I tried my best to forget the video that I saw on my security system. There was the possibility that Annie had really said something else and the mic on the cctv camera had somehow distorted her words. Surely, it was that or there was another explanation.

In any event, I figured that getting back on the field for some football would get my mind off of things. The past couple days had really got me worked up, and I was ready to do what I did best, let out some aggression and tear up the field.

When I put on the shoulder pads and helmet, I felt at home. We were playing against the Hurricanes who fans had been hedging on having a chance to beat us, but I didn’t see what they were seeing. They had a team full of big guys, but thus far no defense seemed able to stop us or my rushing game. I told the coach and the team the same thing I told them every game–just hand me the ball, and I’ll get the job done. Usually after I scored 2 or 3 touchdowns and we were far enough ahead, I’d sit out and let the rest of the players have their chance to shine.

The stadium was buzzing as the crowd filled in, and when they called out both teams, I could hear a few people chanting my nickname. I felt great–rested, no hangover, loads of energy and ready to dominate the game.

I sat on the bench and watched as Miami scored the first touchdown, and when we got on offense, I scored a touchdown for our team in half the time. The team gave me friendly pats on the back, and I knew that we could easily win the game if our defense could shut them down when they tried to score.

Teams were still tied when Miami was winding down a failed second offense run.

Time to go get ‘em Wrecker.

Him. He never came at such a random time before.

“What are you doing in my head? I did what you asked”

“Oh yes, of course you did.”

“Then why are you here?” The referee blew the whistle, and I started to head out into the field.

“Because of our deal, Mitch. You’ve got to fulfill your deal.”

“I’ve already followed through on the deal,” I scoffed. “Patricia and I are done.”

But there’s another.

“What are you talking about? I’m not dating anyone else.”

“Turn around Mitch.”

What on earth was he talking about? I spun around as I walked out onto deeper into the green.

“A little more left… Nope, a little more right… Now stop! Right there. Look up. Do you see your little darling?”

Off in the distance, I barely make out Mom, Dad, and Annie sitting in the stands. A lump filled my throat. “My darling?” I asked. “Are you you talking about–”

“Yes, Mitch. I’m talking about Annie.”

“Annie?”

“She loves you Mitch.”

“Of course, she loves me. She’s my sister!”

“But there’s more to it than the love of two siblings. She wants you, Mitch. And you want her. Take it. Take her.”

“I wouldn’t dare. I wouldn’t dare hurt Annie.”

“You will.”

“No, I won’t. You can’t make me do that.”

“Hmph. You’re right. I can’t
make
you do anything. But if you’re falling back on our deal, I’ll take everything away.”

“Go ahead. I don’t need this anymore. I just want to play ball and be left the fuck alone!”

I swallowed hard as I got in position behind the Quarterback, and to my surprise, the voice didn’t reply. I had done everything that he had asked me before, but breaking Annie was far too much. How evil could I possibly be to fuck with my stepsister? Fuck him and fuck that. He could throw rocks in my window if he wanted. I’d drive 15 miles per hour everywhere I went to avoid speeding cars, but no way I wasn’t going to hurt family.

The center hiked the ball to the Quarterback, and the Quarterback handed it off to me. I jeered to the left, and I could hear that crowd screaming as they waited for me to issue them another highlight-reel worthy play. I saw a line with a single defender and sprinted forward with all of my might. He was a big guy, but I could take him, I thought.

I thought wrong. It felt like a ton of bricks hit me me as the defender and I slammed together. I lost my footing, and the large guy thrashed my body to the ground, landing on top of me.

My ears were ringing from the force of the fall and my vision was blurry, but I could see the bearded defender staring down at me through the opening in his helmet, sweat dripping down his face. “Who’s The Wrecker now, bitch?!” he snarled harshly, bits of his smelly spit speckling onto my face.

I laid in the grass, dazed, my head spinning, my body aching. Tiny white stars jumped out at me as I slowly regained my composure, and I could feel a pair of people hoisting me up into something. People were talking to me, but the attack of sound and colors made it difficult to make out what they were trying to say.

It wasn’t until they had carried me nearly past the sidelines that I was alert enough to realize they were taking me off the field. I swatted at the shoulder of one of the guys carrying me and rolled my body off the stretcher and onto the ground below.

“Mitch, what are you doing?” the medic asked as I struggled to situate myself.

“No…” I huffed. “I’m okay. I’m okay to play.”

“You need to be looked at,” the other medic said.

“No, I’m fine. Just a hard hit.”

I pulled myself to my knees and then forced myself to stand. There was no way I was going to go out so easily. Side-to-side I shook my head and rattled all the cobwebs out of my brain. I twisted my neck, and my spine made a loud crunching noise, but I felt much better after the fact.

I jogged slowly back on the field, leaving the medics standing there wide-eyed, and I heard the crowd cheering when they saw I was okay. A few of my teammates circled around me, and I could see coach approaching as well.

“I don’t know what just happened out there Mitch, but you should get some rest on the bench, Mitch,” Coach said.

“Don’t worry, Coach.” I put my hand behind my shoulder and stretched my back from side to side. “I’m okay. Let’s stick to our usual play. They won’t expect that you’ll hand the ball off to me after I just took a hit like that.”

“I don’t know,” our Quarterback spoke up. “I think it would be better to do some pass plays or–”

“Trust me,” I insisted.

The coach sighed. “Are you sure about this Mitch? We can sub you, and you can get back in the game after the first half is over if you’re still up for it.”

“I’m sure. Hand me the ball and watch me show this crowd the real deal.”

“Alright let’s do this,” Coach said and clapped his hands.

All the players put their hands in the center of the circle, one on top of each other, and made a loud grunt as they pulled away.

I got back in my position behind the Quarterback and I could see the bearded defender staring from his line with a proud grin. Lucky hit, I thought. If I encountered him again, I’d try to dodge his tackle, but if I couldn’t, I would hit him from a better angle and take him down.

The center snapped the ball to the Quarterback, and then the ball was handed off to me. The crowd wailed, and again I saw a clean line with only one defender, and I went for it. I pushed fast, and when I got closer, I could tell that it was the same bearded guy from before. My shoulder stiffened, ready to test my might against his as we crashed into each other, but instead, I was suddenly tackled from the side.

Another defender, much smaller than the big, bearded guy had come out of nowhere and hit me from a perpendicular angle. It wasn’t a hit as hard as the big guy’s, but it was hard enough that it sent me flying to the ground. His blow landed square in the side of my ribs, knocking my breath out. I fell sideways to the ground and slid several inches before I looked down and realized that I was no longer holding the ball.

When I looked up, I could see one of Miami’s defenders running back towards our end zone with the ball I was supposed to be carrying.

Fumble... I had fumbled the ball. It was every player’s worst nightmare, and the last thing that any star running back is expected to do.

As the Miami defender made it to the end zone and threw the ball down for a touchdown, I looked up at my team and felt a lump in my throat. I peered at my coach. He and everyone else looked so disappointed, and it was all because I insisted on taking the ball and fumbled.

The crowd wailed as they watched last year’s rookie of the year get pummeled not once but twice and even fumbled the ball to the home team. I picked myself off of my feet and walked over to the sidelines with my head down.

“What was that?” Coach asked. “I’ve never seen you drop the ball before.”

“I don’t know. I guess I was just too focused on getting the ball past the defender.”

The team gathered around and I received more than a few nasty glares. “Look,” Coach said. “If they make a field goal, we’re going to be down by 7. Mitch dropped the ball, but these things happen. He’s led the team to where we are today, so let’s stick together. Just continue with the game plan and we’ll come back and win this.”

The team grunted in approval.

The Hurricanes made the field goal, and I marched back on the field for another offensive run. It was fruitless though. The whole rest of the night, I was pummeled by the other team. When I was handed their ball, their defenders shut me down again and again. When the Quarterback started passing the ball, our passes failed and we even had an interception. We lost 35 to 7– the worst game we’ve had since I started playing as a running back.

After the game, the energy in the locker room was dark, and the air was quiet. My battered team removed their gear in silence and prepared to hit the showers.

Coach made an appearance and let out a deep sigh. “Good effort out there, guys.”

“Good effort?” Our Quarterback heaved off his shoulder pads and let them fall to the ground with a thud. “Maybe we wouldn’t have games like that if Mitch showed up for practice.”

A few of the other players grunted, and I stood up in my defense. Everyone started arguing with each other at once.

“Hey, hey!” Coach called out. “Settle down. It’s not Mitch’s fault. If it wasn’t for Mitch we wouldn’t have went undefeated last year. But you do have a point. It’s clear now that he’s not unstoppable.” He pointed his eyes at me. “You’re going to have to start showing up for practice from now on, Mitch.”

I sat back down on the bench with my head down and gave a sad nod. He was right. I had grown cocky, and the few times I did show up to practice, I arrived drunk or with a hangover from the night before. I had trained every day to get to the point where I could play for UCLA, but after my success I had been spending more and more of that time chasing pussy and getting wasted, thinking that no one would ever stop me on the field.

I was naïve but at the same time, I was lonely. I had been seeded with such an uncontrollable drive, and I had to let it out. Working out nonstop every day and just playing football would keep that energy under control, but it left a vacancy in my heart. That’s why I chased women, even when I had to break their hearts. It filled the void, even if only for a brief moment before I cut them off.

It was hell. Not being able to love was hell. The money, the fame, the drive to succeed–It was all a façade. I made a deal with the devil, and the devil brought me to hell.