Beware of Bad Boy(4)

Now, barely three years later, my mom couldn’t seem to pawn me off to that new family fast enough. Being her only child only got me so far. She’d had enough of my antics and was ready to send me to dad to straighten me out. I thought the way our home life worked was just fine. My mom did her thing and I did mine. The problem for her was she didn’t like the things I got up to.

When I pulled up to a giant two-story house which looked like it belonged on a sitcom, I couldn’t help but compare it to the apartment I shared with my mom. Our apartment was in a trendy Denver neighborhood. This place was definitely a far cry from trendy. The neighbors probably expected quiet and everyone was in bed by ten at night.

My dad had been mowing the lawn when I pulled up and his wife was gardening in a flowerbed. My artist mother would have called it very Norman Rockwell. I hoped I wasn’t expected to take part in any of it. I especially wasn’t going to be pushing a damn lawnmower around the front yard.

As soon as I’d parked, my dad turned off the lawnmower and met me as I got out of the car. We grabbed some of my bags from the trunk and I was ushered through the white front door with a fancy gold knocker. My dad happily patted me on the back while Julie, my stepmom, yapped about how excited everyone was to have me there.

All of a sudden a skinny blonde kid came crashing into my legs. “Caleb is here! He’s going to play PlayStation with me!” The welcoming party sure was confident. When tugging on my hand in the direction of what I guessed was the game console didn’t work, he only pulled harder.

“Caleb, this is my son, Chance, and he’s obviously excited about your coming to live with us. Chance, honey, Caleb just got here. He needs to get settled in first, so please stop yanking on his hand.” It was weird how she spoke sternly with a smile on her face.

Maybe my dad went out and married my mom’s opposite. When my mom used that tone you better believe there was a frown to accompany it. My mom was the moody artistic type, more likely to tie a scarf around her waist than her neck. This lady dressed different too, very preppy in her polo shirt. “Caleb, come sit over on the couch so we can all get to know each other.”

I followed them into a living room, feeling awkward. Jesus Christ, could a person fit more floral printed furniture and paintings into one room? I spied what seemed to be some sort of shrine on the other side of the room. A long table against the wall was covered in pictures of a blonde girl at different ages. Different outfits, too. Some looked cheerleading related and some had her in ballet getups. The pictures were far from where I sat, but she looked sort of pretty. I didn’t remember how old the daughter was, high school age at least, but she looked good enough to bang if she weren’t my dad’s stepdaughter. That definitely put her on the Do Not Bang list.

Julie and Scott followed my gaze and, believe it or not, Julie got even more excited. “Oh, Caleb, that’s my daughter, Gianna. Chance, go get your sister. She should be here to welcome Caleb.” Interesting that her name was Gianna, an Italian name when I doubted she had an ounce of Italian blood in her. My mom was Italian-American and she didn’t even have an Italian name.

“I can’t go get her mom ‘cause she left right when Caleb got here. I told her he’s here, then she ran upstairs, then she ran downstairs, went to the garage and left,” Chance explained in a rush.

“Oh well . . . she must’ve been late to meet a friend, but you’ll get a chance to meet her later, Caleb. I know, I’ll show you to your room now.” Julie’s cheeks were pink as she excused her daughter’s absence. Perhaps my new stepsister wasn’t so happy about me being here.

Three hours later I was contemplating living in my car. I needed to escape. If I had to put up with any more of this family time crap I was gonna choke someone. That someone may just be my new stepmother. After I was shown my new room, painted baby blue with sailboat border on the wall, Julie insisted on getting to know me more. This consisted of two hours of Julie asking me questions, my dad staring at her like he loved her curiosity and Chance yanking on my sleeve to get my attention. Julie was hot and all for a lady in her thirties, but I didn’t know what my dad saw in her beyond that. If her daughter was anything like her, I’d be walking around the house with a roll of duct tape for her mouth.

Finally a reprieve when my dad asked to speak with me privately in his study. A study for fucks sake! It was even decorated like the study cliché with manly plaids and dark woods. I sat across from him and picked up a Mallard duck statue with a question in my eyes.

He shrugged with a smirk on his face. “I let Julie do the decorating.”