Dirty Stepbrother

"You think I'm stupid?"

The words came first, and then his hand landed harshly on my cheek and my back hit the freezer door before my brain caught up… Manager Cole's fingers tight in my collar.

"I didn't touch the register." My voice came out steady and firm. "I promise you, I wouldn't take your money."

Cole's grip tightened. "Six hundred dollars doesn't walk out by itself."

"If you don't believe me, then check the cameras."

"Check the cameras," Cole mimicked in a high, whiny singsong, and then let go so suddenly that I stumbled. "You think I have time for that? You think you're worth that, you little dick?" I said nothing.

Cole pulled the envelope from his back pocket. It was my pay for the week… and he started removing some bills.

"One fifty," Cole said, stuffing the rest into his own pocket. "Consider the rest interest."

My jaw tightened, and the split in my lip from earlier… the one my manager had caused on a different night for another stupid reason… pulled open again. I tasted blood.

"Yes, sir."

Cole walked out, and the freezer door swung shut behind him.

I stood there a moment, touching my lip as I looked at the blood on my fingertip.

One fifty.

I thought of the birthday gift I wanted to get for my girlfriend. The bag I was supposed to get for her. The one she'd called cute in that soft voice she used when she wanted something but wouldn't ask… I heard her anyway and started saving that same night.

She had never asked me to get her something, and it made sense because I was a broke-ass college student. But this time, I really wanted to save up and get that bag for her birthday.

Now I was further back than when I'd started.

I pushed off the freezer, walked to the bathroom, and locked the door behind me.

The tap ran cold against a paper towel I pressed to my lip, and the mirror showed me a kid who looked nineteen: dark circles, shoulders curved in, a bruise blooming on my ribs from last time.

I thought about my mother. About the house she lived in now, and about Tate… the man who had married her… who'd offered me once to help with university. "You don't have to struggle, you're family." I had said no.

And I had that no in my mind, every night, every shift, every time Cole's hand landed somewhere it shouldn't.

I hated my stepfather for taking my mom, and I had a weird suspicion that he was responsible for my father's death. Being that he was my mom's ex before she got into an arranged marriage with my dad, whose life was taken away on a night in my stepfather's bar.

The paper towel came away pink, and I threw it in the bin.

* * *

The bar got louder around midnight. I moved between tables with my head down, wiping and pouring and nodding, my body keeping the rhythm even when my mind wandered off somewhere else.

Then the door opened, and four people walked in like they owned the place with their expensive coats and loud laughs.

At the front was Sebastian.

My stepbrother.

I had met him twice. First at the wedding, where we'd worn stiff suits and stiff smiles, and Sebastian had shaken my hand like a businessman closing a deal.

Then six months ago at a family dinner, all he'd said was "Hello, stepbrother" and then nothing else.

I thought about the university coming up next week and wondered what everyone would think of me, considering my stepbrother was the most popular boy at the university. So I heard.

University hadn't even started yet and the group chats were already full of him: Sebastian, business school, handsome, rich, good luck competing.

I ducked my chin and took their order.

Sebastian didn't look at me; he just said "beer" to the table, and continued talking to the friend beside him.

Fine. Perfect. We weren't brothers and we didn't need to pretend to be.

Then Manager Cole passed by and grabbed my arm hard enough to leave marks. "Table six is dirty. Move faster, you trash."

I moved. But I could feel eyes on my back.

I was wiping table six when Sebastian appeared beside me. He was alone… the friends still at the counter, laughing at something on someone's phone.

"You're bleeding again."

I kept wiping. "It's nothing."

Sebastian leaned against the booth, casual in his posture but not in his eyes. "He hits you?"

I stopped and looked up. "What do you want, Sebastian?"

"Your lip was split last time I saw you too. At Mom's dinner. You hid it with your hand the whole night."

My stomach turned. I hadn't known anyone had noticed.

Sebastian glanced toward the office, where Cole was counting something at the desk, then back at me. "My father owns Bar Solace... three blocks from here. He pays double. He doesn't hit people, at least not his stepson." "I don't need…"

"It's not charity, it's a job. You show up, you work, you get paid." Sebastian's voice stayed low.

"Besides, you're starting university next week, right? Freshman year. Don't start it with a bruised face. Don't want anyone thinking you got hit or maltreated by your stepfamily." I stared at him.

The offer sat in the air between us... It felt too good for a stepbrother I didn't talk much to.

I thought of Sophie's birthday, twelve days away. The bag she wanted. The way her face would light up if I handed her the box. I thought of my account balance. I thought of Cole's hand on my collar.

"I'll think about it."

Sebastian nodded once and walked back to his friends as though nothing had passed between us.

* * *

The studio apartment was cold and lonely when I got home at one in the morning, and the hot water ran out after four minutes. I didn't care. I stood under the lukewarm spray with my head resting against the tile until my phone buzzed on the sink.

I dried my hands and picked it up.

Sophie: Baby

Sophie: Send me a picture

Sophie: Make it sexy this time

I read it twice. A text from my girlfriend.

Two years together and she had never asked for anything like that. At least not sexy pictures, just pictures.

Was she drunk? Bored? Testing me? I didn't know. But she was all I had… the only person who looked at me like I wasn't invisible, like I mattered.

I set the phone against the soap dish and stepped back into the low light of the bathroom lamp. Shirt already off. I tilted my jaw the way I'd seen models do it and felt ridiculous… I wasn't sexy, I was a broke kid with a healing split lip and ribs that ached when I breathed too deeply. But she had asked.

I took three photos, deleted the first two, and kept the third. My collarbone caught the light and my eyes looked darker than usual. Not sexy, exactly, but something.

I typed: For you baby. Goodnight.

Opened her chat. Hit send.

Then I saw the name at the top of the screen.

Sebastian.

No. No, no, no.

I scrolled up with my heart beating so hard. The last message was weeks old… Dinner at Mom's.

Sunday 6PM. Don't be late.

I'd never replied. And now I had sent a shirtless photo to my stepbrother. My hands shook as I mashed out: wrong person wrong person wrong person Then I tried to delete it.

Pressed delete. Confirmed. The message disappeared from my side of the screen… but not from Sebastian's. The chat now read: You deleted a message.

Fuck!!!

What have I just done!!

I was already typing a long "wrong number" text when my heart skipped a beat as I saw… Read receipt. 1:14 AM.