Cockney:A Stepbrother Romance(46)

I can see Chelsea's stormy, guarded facade start to fall as her older  sister hugs her, and then her face crumbles as the tears begin to drop.



"It's Andrew, he- with her!"



I hate seeing girls cry. Seriously, no matter how bitchy Chelsea just  was to me for a girl I've met all of like once, I instantly want to put  my arms around them both and tell her that whatever it is, it's going to  be ok.         

     



 



Just then though, Reagan looks up and sees me staring at them. Her face curls into a snarl; "Do you mind?"



I shrug, not ready to get bounced that easily; "What's the problem?"



Chelsea whirls on me with a sneer on her lips; "Oh what, billionaire  womanizer Hudson Banks has some magical advice on cheating boyfriends I  suppose?"



It's almost funny when you talk to people who clearly have no idea where you came from, and who you really are.



"I do, actually;" I shrug again; "Ditch him."



Chelsea rolls her eyes; "Gee, thanks, Hudson but it's not that simpl-"



"No, it really is." Reagan is staring at me with a strange mix of  loathing and curiosity, but I force myself to concentrate on Chelsea;  "He's not going to suddenly just change, Chelsea. As a former lying,  cheating asshole, I feel pretty confident in telling you that." I level  my eyes at her; "Just ditch him." I can see her frown begin to fade as  my words sink in; "You're a strong, confident, beautiful girl, Chelsea,  and you don't need dead-weight like whoever this total idiot is holding  you down."



Chelsea's fierce look is gone as stares at me with a whole new, much  nicer expression on her face; "Um, thanks Hudson." She looks confused  for a second, as if amused that those words came out of my mouth, before  her face suddenly breaks into a big grin as she smiles at me; all  traces of her former sneer gone. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see  Reagan shooting a venomous look at her sister, as if she's somehow  traitorous just for not acting like a total bitch to me like Reagan is.  I'm almost ashamed to admit the sense of smug satisfaction I get in  seeing it.



"He really is kind of an idiot, isn't he?" Chelsea shrugs in a defeated way, and I find myself opening even more.



"To cheat on an Archer girl like you?" I shrug and wink at her; "Total  idiot; must be blind too, which almost makes me feel bad for him."



Chelsea blushes and grins at me and I see Reagan roll her eyes  dramatically and turn back to reach for the water bottle she's left on  the stair-master machine. For whatever reason, I suddenly feel compelled  to push her buttons even more on this.



"Why don't we all go out to lunch? My treat, of course."



Chelsea's nodding eagerly but Reagan cuts her off; "Thanks but no thanks, we came here in gym clothes, remember?"



I wave off her concerns like they're nothing, because they aren't with  the resources I have; "I'll have one of my guys bring something here for  you to wear. Just go hit the shower and I'll be sure there's a  selection waiting for you when you're done." The dichotomy between  Chelsea's impressed and beaming face and Reagan's look of "are you  kidding me" disdain almost makes me laugh, but I compose myself; "So,  that's a yes then?"



I can see just the tell-tale signs of a smile teasing the corners of  Reagan's frown as she shakes her head at me; "Who are you, God."



"Just ‘Hudson' will do."



She rolls her eyes; "You know what I fucking mea-"



"Well right now, I'm your lunch date. So go hit the showers sweet-cheeks."





P A S T



"So, how was Dad last night?"



Chelsea looks up from her homework and frowns at me. I'm supposed to be  doing the same thing, especially since I've just started sending  transcripts to colleges, but I'm mindlessly paging through TV channels  instead. "You should have at least gotten on to say hi, Ray."



I shrug; "It sounded like you were having a hard time hearing him anyways, wherever he is."



"Angola."



"What?"



"Angola; that where he is."



I roll my eyes and sneer; "Of course he is."



Chelsea slams her homework down and glares at me; "What's that supposed to mean?"



"It means wherever there's some third world conflict with terrible  people willing to spend money of disputable origins, that's pretty much  where you can guarantee our father will be, Chelsea."



I turn back to the TV with a huff, but my younger sister jumps out of  her chair, grabs the remote out of my hand, and shuts it off; "Meaning?"



"Meaning Dad sells guns to bad people, Chelsea!" I shout at her. She  flinches at the outburst but I keep going; "It means all of this" I'm  gesturing around at the opulent home around us; "We have all of this  because Dad is an arms dealer."



Chelsea's face scrunches up in a frown and it looks like she's about to cry; "You don't know that, Reaga-"



"I know how to put one and one together and get two, Chelsea." She  starts to snivel, and I feel the wind go out of my sails as I reach out  and pull her into a hug; "Hey, I'm sorry."



"You don't know that, Reagan!" She says again weekly as she presses her wet eyes into my shoulder.



"I know," I say, stroking her hair; "I should gotten on the phone yesterday. So, how did he sound?"



"Good," Chelsea pulls aways, her eyes red and wet looking.



"Who's yelling in here?" Quinn pokes her head into the room and frowns when she sees Chelsea; "Reagan-"



"It's nothing, we were just talking about Dad."



Quinn shrugs; "Oh yeah, he's in Angola with The Guys." She frowns at me;  "You really should find the time to talk when he calls you know, it's  not exactly easy to make phone call from there."



I suppress the urge to growl; "So he's with the guys in some remote  corner of the globe instead of spending time here with us while you're  back on break, huh?" I roll my eyes; "Shocker."



Quinn makes a face; "Oh, did you want to go to the sub-Saharan conflict  zone, Reagan? Were you just dying to take in the scenery with a dash of  extreme poverty and active war zone?"



"You know what I mean. I mean spending time with them all the time."



My older sister frowns; "It's work, Reagan. And besides, you know  they're all military or whatever; it's like a brotherhood thing."



I shrug; "Yeah but they just - I don't know, they're weird."



Quinn grins; "You mean hot."



"Um, not what I meant, but eh, I guess."



"You guess?" Quinn is grinning at me; "Uh, news to Reagan, they're hot. Chels? You with me here?"



Chelsea blushes and grins; "They're super cute, Reagan."



"They're old!"



Quinn laughs; "Fuck you! Old? I think Hudson's my age and Bryce is younger than that, bitch."



"Fine, whatever." I reach for the TV remote.



My older sister frowns again; "Did you finish your application essay for Columbia yet"



I groan dramatically; "Yes, MOM."



She bristles, and I cringe; "Sorry."



"Just finish that application, dummy."





P R E S E N T



"What, no Charger?" I smirk at Hudson as his driver brings the Bentley limo around to the back-door of the gym.



He flashes that cocky grin at me as he opens the door for us; "Not today".



"Hmm, yeah, much too flashy," I nod with phony enthusiasm; "Good thing  you've got the Bentley limousine as a far more inconspicuous backup."



He shrugs; "What fun is money if you can't spend it?"



"Oh is there money you haven't spent? I wasn't aware of that" I smile  sweetly at him, nodding towards the sleek, ultra-luxury Bentley.



"Get in the car, Archer," He smirks, his eyes glinting at me.



*****



Later as we're finishing lunch on the rooftop terrace of the exclusive  place he takes us, I frown as I watch him; half-listening to him as he  doles out relationship advice to Chelsea. There's a mystery to Hudson,  almost as if there are two of him both sharing the same stupidly  good-looking body. The one Hudson is arrogant and - wait, no, scratch  that; both Hudson's are arrogant. But while the one smug, cocky,  overly-confident Hudson surrounds himself with luxury and and sarcasm  and boorish behavior, there's another one that I keep getting glimpses  of, like the one sitting here talking to my sister. That Hudson is,  well, utterly different. The second Hudson is fragile and partly broken;  full of demons with fire in his eye. He's the man with battle-scars and  tattoos peeking out just enough from underneath that Armani armor to  make me crazy to want to know which Hudson is the real one.



Or are they both?



But then of course, I'm reminded of who he is. I'm reminded that however  charming and sober and put-together this new Hudson is, this is still  one of the family of men my father surrounded himself with off in some  remote corner of the globe when he was avoiding us - his real family. I  remind myself that however handsome his face is, and however sweet he's  being to Chelsea right now, this man has an agenda in helping finance my  campaign. My father might be gone, but Hudson Banks is here, as if he's  helping my Dad exert his will over me from beyond the grave, which is a  bizarre and uncomfortable thought.