Page 14 of An Unexpected Encounter

Me: Hey this is Eli, your soon-to-be stepbrother. Dad messaged and wants me and my brothers to take you out to eat. Get ready and we can meet you in the lobby.

I figure if we eat in the resort restaurant, we don’t have to worry about bringing her back here. I wait a few minutes, but when I don’t get a reply, I sigh. If she doesn’t want to answer, that’s on here. I can at least tell Dad I tried.

But it seems luck isn’t on my side. A few seconds later, my phone pings with an incoming message.

Stepbitch: Thanks but I’ll pass. Jose, Jim, Jack and the Captain, and I are all having a good time right now.

Me: Wow. You are a slut, aren’t you?

Stepbitch: And you’re a fucking dick, so I guess we’re both good. Now fuck off.

“She’s definitely a bitch who apparently is screwing four guys up in her room.” Jay just turns his nose up at that.

“What a slut. Think she learned it from her mother? Eli, are we really going to let him go through with this tomorrow?”

“We don’t really have a choice.” I sit on the bed, stretching my legs out as I lean back on the headboard, picking up the remote and scrolling through channels until I finally stop on ESPN.

Jay continues to bitch, but I barely pay attention to a word he says. Too busy fuming at the way the little whore answered me.

A knock on the door pulls both our attention and Jay jumps up to answer, his carbon copy standing on the other side.

“Who’s ready to drink?” Zeke says loudly, stepping past Jay to enter the room, and dropping his bag on the floor. “Did you get to meet the new steps?”

“Nah man, apparently the new sister pissed the step monster off and all plans tonight were canceled. Then Dad wanted us to take the sister out, but according to Eli, she’s holed up in her room with four guys.” Jay gives him the play-by-play as he flops down on the bed.

“Really.” he asks

“Yeah, the slut even gave me their names.”

“What are they?” Zeke asks as he sits down on the edge of Jay's bed, facing me.

“Jack, Jose, and two others I can’t remember,” I tell him, as he gives me a weird look before doubling over in laughter.

“Dude. That’s alcohol. The stepsister is getting drunk in her room, not having a train run on her,” he says when he finally catches his breath.

“Whatever, she’s still a fucking bitch. Let’s go. I want to find the woman from the plane and Jay wants to find his girl from the hallway.”

“Sounds good. Would be even better if my woman was here, but when I get back home, I’m going to find her.”

We all stand up and head out the door, with me in the rear, making sure to snatch up the key card from the desk.

Fuck the step monster and the step bitch. It’s going to take everything in me not to object to this damn wedding tomorrow.

Chapter 8

Selena

The incessant ringing of the phone wakes me from my drunken stupor. I barely remembered to call downstairs last night and schedule a wake-up call before I attacked the mini bar like a wino who hit the motherload. How dare that asshole message me and demand that I meet them in the lobby, and to top it off, call me a fucking slut. He doesn’t know me, yet he has the nerve to call me such a derogatory name, so fuck him and the high horse he rode in on.

Picking up the phone, I tell them thank you, knowing it won’t stop until I do. As much as I want to curl back up into the warm comfort of my blankets, I fling them off and sit up. Come on, Selena, you can do it. A ceremony lasts what, ten minutes max, show your face at the reception, make your toast, and then you can get the hell out of there.

I head to the bathroom to take a quick shower, brush my teeth, and throw on some clothes. Mom has a hair and make-up stylist coming to her room, so I don’t have to worry about doing any of that. Per her words exactly, “She didn’t want me looking whorish on her day and embarrass her.” Is there some game where whoever calls me a slut the most wins some jackpot?

I don’t need my purse today, but I pick up the room key card from the table, before grabbing the dress I draped over the chair when room service delivered it last night. Taking a deep breath, I mentally prepare myself for my mother and step out the door.

The hallway is quiet. The only other soul in sight is an older woman, probably about seventy, heading in the same direction as me toward the elevator. She ends up going down while I go up to the ninth floor.

It feels like my soul is being sucked from my body the longer the elevator ascends to the floor until finally it comes to a screeching halt and the doors slide open. Stepping off, I begin the walk of dread until I end in front of their room at precisely ten a.m. sharp. Lifting my hand, I knock on the door.

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