Stepbrother Catfish: The Complete Series (15 page)

I hate this elevator. I never want to ride in it again. The descent to the first floor takes forever, and as soon as Andrew is out of sight, I feel like crying again.

I feel so confused and so stupid. I could very well be running away from the best thing to ever happen to me. A big part of me doesn’t believe him just because I want to believe him so bad. I can’t trust him because I can’t even trust myself to make the right decision.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. I settle my purse on my shoulder and walk out with my chin up. Thankfully, the lobby is empty save for the security guard at his post. He doesn’t look up from his computer so I make it out with most of my dignity intact.

Outside, there’s a cab already waiting. I usually don’t have such good luck but at the moment, I’m not going to question it. I just want to get home, climb in my bed, and stay there for a while. I rush forward while clutching my jacket shut. I reach out and grab the door handle when I swear I hear clicking behind me.

I look back and sure enough, Tiffany is on my heels. “Hey!” she calls out. “Do you mind if I catch a ride with you?”

I could pretend not to hear her, but then I’d feel really bad.

She must have been waiting for me. In fact, I bet she called the cab. I sigh. What choice do I have? I could refuse and give her the cab, after all, she could very well be pregnant, but the thought of standing out here, waiting, and potentially running into Andrew again, fills me with dread.

“I guess,” I say reluctantly and step back. I motion her in ahead of me.

Her face lights up with a smile. She says, “Thanks,” and climbs in the cab.

I slip in after her.

“Where to?” The driver asks as I close the door.

I look to Tiffany, expecting her to give him her address.

She smiles at me, “Where do you live?”

“I, uh…” I stutter.

Her smile only grows wider, “It’s your cab.”

Gah. I don’t want her to know where I live. How do I get myself into these messes?

Tiffany looks entirely too pleased with herself. I have no clue what she’s up to, or even if she’s up to anything at all. Andrew called her crazy, and now I’m all paranoid. I give the driver an address a couple of blocks away from my place, you know, just in case.

Unfortunately, I live on the other side of town, and apparently Tiffany wants to make small talk.

“Have you known Andrew long?” she tries to ask innocently.

Inside I’m groaning. He’s the last thing I want to talk about. Actually, I really don’t want to talk about anything at all.

“No,” I say and turn to stare out the window.

She persists, “How did you meet?”

I almost admit that our parents are married. It’s literally on the tip of my tongue before I remember it’s Tiffany that’s asking.

I think for a moment before responding, “We met through the internet.”

She laughs. It’s such an annoying little girl laugh. “Andrew must really be getting desperate.”

I turn my head and glare coldly at her.

The laugh dies on her lips and she quickly apologizes, “Oh, I didn’t mean because he’d have to be desperate to date you or anything….”

I don’t believe her, but she goes on.

“It’s just that Andrew has quite the reputation now around town. He’s gone through all the girls in our circle, I mean he’s dated everybody.  He must have to resort to the internet now.”

She starts laughing again, “Oh! I’m sorry, it’s just so funny.”

I shrug. She can laugh all she wants about Andrew, I don’t care. I’m in that numb state I go to when I’ve done a lot of crying. I know it won’t last so I’m trying to preserve it. I’m in survival mode, my feelings almost impenetrable.

I look back out the window, watching the streets grow seedier and seedier as we travel out of the nice part of town.

She stops laughing and she’s quiet for a couple of minutes. I hear her rummaging through her purse for something, then she unfortunately starts speaking again.

“How much did he pay you?” she asks.

I’m so shocked, I can’t even breathe for a second. Perhaps I’m not as impenetrable as I thought. Does she somehow know of our agreement?

“I’m sorry?” I ask, looking back at her. She’s checking herself out in a little compact.

“How much did he pay you?” she asks again without looking at me.

“How much did who pay me?”

She looks from her compact now and her eyes narrow at me. “Don’t be coy. How much did Andrew pay you for sex?”

“He did not pay me for sex!” I exclaim a little too loudly and the driver glances back at me.

I shrink back in my seat with my cheeks burning. “I’m not a whore,” I hiss.

“He paid me three grand,” she smirks as if it’s something to be proud of.

“He paid you for sex?” I ask. I can’t believe it.

She nods her head. The driver glances back at her now. She winks at him.

“I thought you were his fiancé…”

“Oh, I am.” She snaps her compact shut and slips it in her purse.

“You’re a prostitute?” I ask.

She smiles at me, flashing her teeth in a smile that’s a bit too feral, “I prefer escort.”

It’s just one surprise after another. Not only does Andrew have a fiancé, who is pregnant. But she’s also an escort and he paid her for sex. I don’t even know how to respond to that.

I look back out the window, hoping we’re somewhere close to my place, but I don’t see anything familiar. I can only hope I’m not trapped in this cab with her much longer. Who knows what will come out of her mouth next.

I don’t care how they met, don’t even ask, but she feels the need to tell me anyway. “Andrew booked me a couple of months ago. I was supposed to accompany him to some party his father was throwing, but we never made it there. We just couldn’t keep our hands off of each other.”

I start to feel slightly nauseous as I can’t help but picture her and Andrew with their hands all over each other.

“But you know how that is, don’t you?” she laughs.

I try to ignore her, but it only makes her laugh more. The laugh has a manic ring to it. She’s seriously starting to creep me out.

“You’ll never come between us, Hailey,” she says suddenly serious.

In the glass, I can see her reflection staring hard at me. The hair’s on the back of my neck stand on end. I slowly turn my head to look at her.

“He’s mine.” She pats her belly, “You wouldn’t steal my baby’s daddy, would you?”

I slowly shake my head. I guess Andrew was right, she is batshit crazy. My hand slides across the door, searching for the handle. I’ll open the door and jump out if I have to.

Her glistening pink lips pull into an enormous smile, “Good! We should totally be friends, Hailey.” She digs around in her purse and pulls out her cellphone. “What’s your last name? So I can add you.”

“Smith,” just pops out of my mouth.

Not only have I just lied, maybe Andrew is starting to rub off on me, but I’m so disturbed by what’s going on, I can’t think of a more believable last name.

Her fingers start punching the letters in. The cab finally pulls over to the corner and comes to a stop.

“Are you ladies getting out here?” the driver asks.

“Just me!” I say and open up my purse. I fish out a couple of bills, throw them at the driver and jump out.

I slam the door shut just as Tiffany starts to scoot over. I’m not off scot-free, though. She rolls down the window and calls out, “Keep an eye out for my friend request. Maybe we can hang out later?”

I nod and wave at her.
Sure.

I turn away and act as if I’m searching for something in my purse while I wait for the cab to drive off. I’m even more convinced now that I so don’t want Tiffany to know where I live.

Especially if the crazy bitch wants to be my friend.

My apartment smells stale. It’s been a couple of days, I must have forgotten to empty out the coffee pot. It’s something I usually do after I get home for the night, and I had every intention of coming home after my date…

Since I’ve exited the cab, I’ve had this paranoid, creeped out feeling that I’m being watched. I kick my door shut, check the peep hole, then secure the deadbolt. I instantly feel better.

I sag against the door. Now that I’m home, in the safety of my own little apartment, it all hits me at once. I can’t breathe, it hurts so bad. I barely make it over to my couch and collapse on it.

The hurt just starts to come out in great big wet sobs. I grab up one of the pillows on my couch and hug it against my chest.

I should have known better. It was all just too good to be true. I read too much into what was going on. I assumed what I wanted and now I’m paying the price for it.

I’m just so stupid, stupid, stupid. There were so many lies, and I knew he was a liar, straight from the beginning. Still, I let myself get played like a fool. I’m so desperate and lonely, I was practically begging for it.

It’s so much easier to see it after the fact. It’s so much easier to see when you’re on the outside looking in. But my body and my heart weakened me. I think, if I’m truly honest, I let them. It was so much easier to give in, to enjoy and live in the moment. To get swept away in what could be, to get caught up in all the possibilities. There’s something magical about what could be. The fairy tale ending, a big happy wedding…

Now, I’m here, crying until it feels like my eyes are going to bleed. My throat is raw, my nose is dripping. And still, it feels like there is so much more hurt that’s trying to claw its way out.

My heart aches with every beat. Maybe if I’m lucky, it will stop beating and put me out of my misery.

It’s going to be a long night.

***

The next couple of days are a blur. I spend most of my time on the couch, crying or distracting myself with TV. I just can’t stop thinking about everything that happened. It keeps running in my head, over and over again.

There were so many lies, it’s hard to know what was real and what was fake. I can’t even trust my own memory because what I wanted to be and what was truly happening just don’t seem to be meshing up.

I keep replaying the time I hid in the closet, and everything Andrew said to Tiffany. Was he trying to egg her on to find me? I just can’t tell from what I remember. I remember more of what I was feeling. How scared and confused I was. How upset I was that he just didn’t break it off with her right then and there.

But then I think about the way he would look at me during my stay with him with such intense emotion in his eyes as if it was so strong he couldn’t conceal it. How could anyone possibly fake that? Not to mention the way he kissed me. When he kissed me, the world would stop spinning, and all that existed in the universe was just him and me.

How many times did he tell me he loved me? Every time he said it, he said it as if he meant it. He said it as if he was revealing a piece of himself to me, a piece of himself he kept tucked away and hidden.

Then I think back to how he insisted I call him AJ. Was that his way of keeping it all straight? Separating Andrew and AJ was his way of separating Tiffany and me?

My phone keeps buzzing inside my purse, I don’t care. I don’t like the world very much right now. It can stay outside while I try to get a grip on myself. I keep trying to wrap my mind around everything that happened, but it only leaves me more confused, upset, and angry.

I don’t know where the lies end and the truth begins.

And that’s the real problem, isn’t it? If I knew for certain, the truth, I could feel like I’m capable of making good decisions in my best interest. But all I have is a bunch of he said, she said and my own observations. It’s one big nasty mess. It’s like a knotted ball of yarn. I’m probably better cutting the thread instead of wasting all this time trying to untangle it.

***

I get 48 hours to myself before someone knocks on my door. I’ve cried. I’ve wallowed. I felt sorry for myself. At times, I raged against Andrew. Other times I raged against Tiffany. Now, I mostly blame myself.

At first, I try to ignore the knocking. I’m not fit for company. After getting home, I changed into my softest pair of sweatpants and my favorite long sleeve SpongeBob t-shirt. I haven’t showered or changed since.

The knocking is persistent, though. It goes on, nonstop, for at least five minutes. That’s when Andrew starts yelling.

“Hailey, I know you’re in there. If you don’t open the door I’m going to bust it down.”

I don’t care. Try, Andrew, go ahead and try, I think. But when my walls rattle and it sounds like he’s throwing his entire body at the door, I have a change of heart. I want my door, I need my door to keep the world out. If he fucks it up, dents it, or gets blood on it, I’ll strangle him with my bare hands.

I walk up to my door and check the peep hole. At first I don’t see him, then he appears out of nowhere, crashing into it. I shriek and jump back.

“Hailey?” I hear muffled on the other side.

“Are you crazy?” I ask shrilly. “What are you doing?

I keep the security chain latched, unlock my door, and open it a crack. I peek out and Andrew peeks in.

“Why didn’t you answer the door? You scared the shit out of me,” Andrew huffs, he seems to be a bit winded.

“Because I don’t want to see you!” I snap and slam the door on him.

I quickly twist the deadbolt back in place and take a step back.

“Hailey!” he cries out and starts knocking again. 

“Go away, Andrew! I don’t want to talk to you!” I yell back, but he doesn’t stop knocking. Ugh.

All I want to do is curl up in my blanket and lay down again. I’m so tired and drained. I feel like I could sleep for years and still be sleepy.

“Hailey!” he cries out again. He just doesn’t give up. “I know you don’t want to see me, but your mom is worried about you…. And you still have my jacket. My wallet is in my jacket pocket.”

Of course it is, I bet he planned that. I sigh and search around my apartment for his jacket. I find it on the floor between my living room and the little corner I call my kitchen. After checking the jacket pockets, sure enough, I find his wallet in it.

I’ll just throw his wallet out and tell him to kiss off.

I walk back to my door, twist the deadbolt, and crack the door open.

“Here,” I tell him and squeeze his wallet through the crack.

I hear the wallet hit the floor.

“Hailey, can we talk?” he asks, sounding as if he has finally caught his breath.

“No,” flies past my lips.

“I’m dying without you.”

I don’t dignify that statement with an answer.

Silence stretches between us. It takes me a minute to realize I’m just standing there with the door cracked open. I don’t know why I’m being so careless. It just seems like whenever I get anywhere near him, my IQ plummets.

It’s just that being near him again, even with a door between us, I’m drawn to him. His force field is sucking me in.

“I’m worried about you,” he says softly.

Something inside me aches. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I don’t care,” I say angrily and try to push the door shut. It won’t budge. I look down and he’s got the toe of his expensive black shoe jammed in the crack.

“I care.”

“Sure you do!”

“Hailey, please. I promised your mom I would check in on you.”

That just doesn’t make any sense. As far as I know, my mom and Andrew never speak.

“You talked to my mom?” I ask, and even to myself my voice sounds small and squeaky.

“Yes, she called me because she’s been trying to get ahold of you.”

Dammit. I assumed it was Andrew calling me so I just ignored my phone when it was blowing up.

“What did you tell her?”

“I told I would check in on you.”

“You didn’t tell her anything else?”

He’s quiet for a moment and then he asks, “Anything else?”

I know he knows what I’m talking about but the way he’s making me explain it makes me feel incredibly awkward. “You know… about us…”

There’s another minute of heavy silence before he answers, “No. I just promised I would check on you.”

“Well, you’ve checked on me. Now you can go away.”

“I wouldn’t be comfortable leaving without seeing you.”

I groan.

“I made a promise to her, and I mean to keep it.”

“I’ll just give her a ring, right now, and tell her I’m okay.”

“You go ahead and do that. And while you’re at it, I’ll send her a text, letting her know I’m here, and you won’t let me in. Then, you can explain to her why. Or I can, if you like.”

“Why? Why are you doing this to me?”

“Because I’m worried about you, and just want to make sure you’re alright.”

I sigh loudly. I don’t have the energy to argue with him all night about this. It’s so silly.

“I’ll open the door, you can see me, and then you can be on your way. Okay?”

He doesn’t answer. He’s silent.

“Okay?” I repeat again and decide to take his nonresponse as compliance. Maybe, if I’m lucky, I’ll open the door, he’ll take one look at me, and run away in fright.

“Move your foot so I can unchain the door.”

His foots moves. I slam the door shut a bit harder than needed. I seriously consider just twisting the deadbolt and leaving him there but then if he calls my mom and drags her into this, I’ll be even more miserable.

I undo the chain, take a deep breath, and open the door. He takes one look at me, his eyes sweeping over me from head to toe. There’s so much pain on his face, I want to scream at him to go away. I don’t get the chance, though, because he just pushes his way through me and walks into my home.