Sibling Rivalry

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen

SHE WAS GOING. She didn’t care what her conscious told her at the moment. She would not allow her sister to dictate who she could or could not date. They were not in high school anymore and the jealousies her sister had were ridiculous. It was merely a way for her to manipulate control over Aimee and she would not stand for it. How Karla chose to live her life was up to Karla, but to expect everyone else to follow the same guidelines was just childish.

Aimee stared at herself in the mirror. She took a deep breath. Admit it, girl. You like the attention, as well. She did. She wasn’t used to being chased as much as she was at the present. Hell, she wasn’t used to being chased, period. In high school, she only had one real boyfriend and he ran off on her after he took her cherry at graduation. She avoided contact with the male population after that until she went off to the University of Florida, where she met Henry Warren in her Cyber Forensics class. They started dating and, without her family knowing, finally moved in together her senior year. He was the reason she remained in Gainesville after graduation until returning home to help her mother with her dying father. By that time, she was focused on getting started in her career and getting a place of her own. She maintained her room at her parents’ while she was away at school, but having been on her own for four years, she was not eager to move back into the Harper homestead and around Karla’s antics. Of course, at the time, she didn’t expect her sister to move out and join her, a decision she now regretted.

Even when they were younger, Karla wrongly assumed that she was in control of Aimee’s life. Well, it was time to make sure she understood that was far from the case. Aimee was in control of her own life.

As if to stress the point, if only to herself, Aimee didn’t dress in her typical fashion. She allowed her hair to hang around her shoulders, as opposed to putting it up in her usual ponytail. She liked the way it fell across her shoulders and draped down the burgundy blouse she wore, the blouse with the low-cut V that exposed the swell of her breasts. After squeezing into her tightest white jeans, she slipped into some beige sandals, determined not to go out as her frumpy self. This was on-a-date Aimee and she was taking some moves from her sister’s playbook. It was her intention to turn heads and make eyes pop tonight, whether it was Mitch’s or whoever else was nearby. If her sister could do it, then there was no reason why she couldn’t as well. She quickly grabbed her purse and keys and left the apartment before she realized how much of a hypocrite she acted like right then.

The Wet Spot was located on the outskirts of town. She felt the knots tighten in her stomach as she pulled into the parking lot, noticing the abundance of motorcycles parked outside. Mitch never said what type of bar he invited her to. He probably assumed she wouldn’t show up and chose something he enjoyed. Or he intended to scare the hell out of her. If that was it, it was working.

Thick men in leather jackets covered in patches stood outside, hands in pockets or crossed over chests as they puffed their cigarettes and downed their cans of beer. Women, clad in leather skirts and flimsy tank tops, huddled around them like accessories more than partners. Suddenly, Aimee felt very overdressed. She also wished Karla was with her. Her sister would have sauntered on in without batting an eye and fit in as if she had gone there for years and these were her best friends. Aimee almost peed her pants sitting there debating whether to go in or run away for an ice cream cone.

She took a deep breath as she tightened her resolve. No, she would not allow this to scare her. She was there to prove a point and she would be damned if, at the first sign of trouble, she was going to retreat and be labeled a coward. Not that anyone but her would know, of course, but that was enough. She would know she backed out, and she didn’t want to live with another failure. She had been the timid door mouse too long as it was. She white-knuckled her purse and opened her door, stepping out into the humid Florida night.

Def Leppard assaulted her from the outside speakers hanging at the corners of the bar. There were picnic tables full of customers off to the rear side that she hadn’t noticed when she first arrived. That crowd seemed a little less intimidating and she breathed just a little easier as she opened the wooden front door and stepped into the dark interior of the Wet Spot. The music inside was a little louder, not having the open air and its breeze to carry it away. She stood there a moment allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Dark bars meant clandestine meetings to her and she suddenly felt sneakier. Not that she had a reason to feel sneaky, she kept telling herself. She wasn’t committed to anyone at the moment. Stop talking about it, Aimee, before you make yourself sick. She hoped everyone talked to themselves. Surely, she wasn’t the only crazy person out there.

As her eyes adjusted, she saw Mitch off to the side at a table for two, sipping a beer from a tall, narrow glass. The patrons inside the Wet Spot were dressed more casually than those outside, and she felt herself relax even more as she neared Mitch’s table. He was dressed in a blue jean style shirt, long-sleeve with the sleeves rolled halfway up his arms, and a dark pair of jeans. His hands were wrapped around the beer glass as he stared at a television over the bar.

When he saw her getting closer, he stood and waited for her, his smile pushing up his cheeks. “I’m glad you decided to join me.” He gave her a slight hug.

She returned his hug, not really sure what she should do. As she slid into her chair, she said, “An interesting clientèle here.”

Mitch glanced around the place and gave a slight shrug. “I suppose. The bikers out front are usually not here. They’re doing some poker run for cancer. It’s usually just your typical small bar crowd, drunks and lonely people.”

“That’s funny. You don’t strike me as either one.”

“I’m not, tonight.” He gave her a smile.

The waitress came over and she ordered a rum and Coke. Def Leppard gave way to Huey Lewis and the News and Aimee thought she had been dragged back to the eighties. She felt awkward sitting there with him and found herself toying with the salt and pepper shakers on the table as she forced herself to breathe.

“Do I make you nervous?” He settled back in his chair. Aimee wasn’t sure if he was trying to give her space or just getting comfortable.

What should she say? She was nervous and it wasn’t just because she was out of her element. Karla told her about the two of them having s*x and even about his spanking her in the garage. Obviously, he was used to that sort of experience. Aimee wasn’t. “A little. I’m afraid if you’re comparing me to my sister you’re in for a disappointment.”

“You two may look alike, but from what I’ve witnessed, you definitely don’t act alike.”

“Good, because I don’t plan on getting spanked.”

He almost choked on his beer as he started coughing and laughing at the same time. He managed to get himself under control, wiping his chin with the back of his hand. “She told you that?”

She nodded. “She was rather pissed when she did. Seems she thought by letting you spank her that you would forget about me. I think you can probably expect another visit from her, and she probably won’t be letting you spank her next time.”

He shook his head back and forth. “I seriously can’t believe she told you. That’s funny.”

“You’re the only one who thinks so. She’s ready to kill you and I’m confused as hell. Why ask me out if you’re getting what you want from her?”

“Who says I’m getting what I want? So far, all I’ve gotten is s*x and her drama. Do I look like I enjoy drama? And there is a lot more to life than sex.”

“Are you sure you’re male?” She looked at him through squinted eyes, her head c****d to the side just a little.

He just laughed as he picked his beer back up. “You’re free to check if you’d like.”

She blushed and felt the heat shoot from her cheeks to her sweet passage as she dropped her gaze to the table. Luckily, the waitress arrived with her drink and she could hold the glass in front of her face to hide the redness. She drank deep, but the coldness of the mixed drink did nothing to cool the fire that flamed between her legs. “So, why did you ask me out?”

“Why does anyone ever ask anyone else out? To get to know them better. Have some laughs. See if anything sparks. Why did you say yes?”

Good question. “To be honest, I’m not really sure other than it pissed my sister off.”

He laughed harder. “So, I’m a retaliation device.” He nodded his head as if thinking it over. “I can live with that. At least it gives me a chance to impress you.”

She blushed slightly. “I suppose it does.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

“What’s wrong with your other clothes again?” Betty held up a greenish blouse, examining the collar and hem.

“They aren’t made for tending bar. I need something that will tempt people to stay and buy drinks. And that is an ugly green.”

Betty glanced at her and then back at the shirt, her head tilted to the side as she examined it. Finally, she shrugged and placed it back on the rack. “I’ve seen your clothes. They make men buy your drinks all night long. I don’t see why you need new ones.”

Karla held a short blue jean skirt against her waist. It barely fell to mid-thigh. She held onto it. “Everyone at Sand Dune has seen me in those clothes. I need something they haven’t seen.” Something that will earn me some extra tips. When Aimee went off on her date with Mitch—the sneaky bastard—Karla called her mother and begged a few outfits out of her. Her mother was just happy to be of help, of course, and even offered to drive. Karla was more than happy to let her, as her own gas tank was almost on empty. She skipped the Wal-marts and Targets and headed straight for the mall and its specialty stores. Of course, that was after they stopped in at Texas Roadhouse for dinner—on her mother, as well.

“Do you even know how to mix drinks? Maybe we should buy some alcohol and you can practice.”

“Sure. We can buy it and then go back to the condo and play bartender.”

“As long as you make me one of those rum runners. I like those. Oh and a Mojito. I’ve never had one of those.”

Karla laughed as she pulled a few more skirts from the rack. “Sounds like a plan to me. I’m going to go try these on.”

“Okay. I’ll keep looking.”

Karla checked her items with the attendant at the fitting room and then slipped into the small box. She enjoyed being out with her mother without having to put up with Aimee’s disapproving glances. There was nothing wrong with a mother wanting to help her daughter out once in a while. Of course, goody-two-shoes Aimee would have tried her best to make Karla feel guilty about accepting the help and would have badgered her mother, trying to convince her not to help Karla, that the clothes she owned now were enough to get her started and she could always buy more with her tip money. She would have been right, of course, but Karla hated waiting about as much as she hated paying for her own stuff. She wanted her new wardrobe now.

“Here, try this on as well.” Her mother draped a dark burgundy blouse over the door. “And why isn’t your sister here helping you?”

Karla took the blouse. “She’s on a date, if you can believe it.”

“Of course, I can believe it. Your sister is a sweet girl. She just works too hard. Does it fit?”

“I haven’t tried it on yet, Mom. Give me a second to get out of the other one. And I know she’s sweet. That’s her problem. She needs to loosen up if she wants to catch a guy. No one wants someone as wound up as she is.”

“Someone must. She’s on a date, isn’t she?”

Her mother was right. Aimee was on a date, but she shouldn’t have been. She should be at home in her male pajamas, eating a banana sandwich and drinking chocolate milk. Or even playing footsie with that single father. She should not have been out with Mitch Greenway.

Yet, she was.

Karla growled, obviously louder than she meant to because her mother heard her. “Is it too tight? I can get you another one. What size do you want?”

“No, Mom. I was growling at something else.”

“What could you be growling at alone in the fitting room?”

Karla slipped the blouse her mother picked out over her head and stepped out so she could show it off. “What do you think?”

“I can see through it. I didn’t notice that when I picked it up.”

Karla inspected herself in the mirror. Her mother was right. Her black lace bra was clearly visible through the material. She’d need to get a bra that matched. “That should help with the tips.”

Her mother opened her mouth, but then decided against whatever she was going to say. Karla sighed, but didn’t push it. She really did want to hear what her mother wanted to say, but she wanted her mother to say it, not be coerced into it. Karla always wanted to hear her mother’s thoughts, but Betty Harper always bit her tongue, so Karla kept pushing those boundaries. It had been that way since middle school. Karla would stay out late and while her father yelled and scolded her, her mother would rationalize “she had to have a good reason,” and said Karla just needed some room. “She’ll grow out of it. It’s just a phase.” If it was a phase, Karla never grew out of it. After a while, when she discovered that her mother would never do anything to her, she began to enjoy it and made her rebellion work for her. Even her mother would give her the things she asked for and never question her.

Karla slipped back into the tiny stall and yanked the blouse over her head. She stared at herself in the mirror, the swell of her breasts peeking over her bra. She ran her hands over the smooth contours of her hips, dragging her fingers over her flat stomach. She was in perfect shape. So why was Mitch out with her sister?

She put her own clothes back on, sorted through what she wanted to buy and what she didn’t, and then stepped out of the fitting room. The hangers she hung back on the discard rack were fewer than the ones she passed to her mother. She’d be dressed in slinky style for a while.

“Where to now?” Betty asked as she headed to the register with the clothes Karla wanted draped over her arms.

“Well, you wanted to play bartender. I’d say the liquor store. If you want a rum runner, we’re going to need a lot of alcohol.”

“Oh.” Her mother just looked at her. “Okay. If that’s what we need to do. I want you to know what you’re doing when you start your new job.”

She waited to see if her mother would change her mind, but she just smiled and swiped her credit card. Karla wanted to growl but smiled instead. It was what was expected of her, after all. She was the greedy one. She watched as the clothes were scanned and bagged. It was a role she grew to enjoy. She didn’t really have a choice. She couldn’t disappoint them, could she? Still, at times, she wished they would disappoint her.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They spent the night talking and laughing as classic rock blared from the speakers and some football game no one could hear blared from the television over the bar. The bikers out front had left after an hour, but Aimee couldn’t remember seeing them leave. Men came in, a few women, all wanting a drink and some company. People came, found what they wanted, and left, all while the two of them sat there talking and drinking. She actually lost track of time and she hadn’t done that since…well, since the other night with Clint.

She ignored the clenching of her stomach at the thought of Clint and pushed it away. She convinced herself she wasn’t doing anything wrong. Clint hadn’t asked them to be exclusive. He just said he wanted to see more of her. And he was. Seeing more of her, that is. That didn’t mean she wasn’t allowed to meet someone for drinks, right?

Mitch glanced down at his watch. “Wow. Eleven-thirty. This night has flown by.”

Aimee took a quick glance at her watch. It was eleven-thirty. How had the night gone by so fast? “I need to get home. We have a deposition first thing Monday morning and I have things to do to get ready for it.” She quickly stood, almost knocking the chair over.

Mitch laughed as he stood with her. “Are you about to turn into a pumpkin or something weird like that?” He glanced down at her feet. “You’re not wearing glass slippers are you?”

She looked at her feet and then wondered why on earth she was looking at her feet. She knew what she was wearing. “Sorry, no. Just normal basic sandals.”

He stepped around the table and moved the chair for her. “Well, maybe next time. C’mon, I’ll walk you out.”

The knot she had in her stomach over thoughts of Clint now turned into jitters at the thought of Mitch walking her to her car…outside…in the dark. Oh god. He already kissed her once. Would he do it again? Did she want him to? Oh yeah, she wanted him to kiss her again.

The night was still warm, the breeze from earlier had died away, leaving the air not only still but sticky. It didn’t help her hands and their sweating. She wanted to rub them on her pants, but she wasn’t sure how obvious it would appear. When they got to her car, she unlocked it and tossed her purse onto the passenger seat. “Well, thanks for getting me here all safe and secure.”

“How’s she running?” He pointed to the car and smiled. “Any more problems?”

She stood there, her arm on top of her open door. “It’s been running smooth, so far. Thanks again for fixing it.”

He nodded, taking a step closer to her as he did. The nerves in her stomach became a churning mass. She turned, facing him without thinking about what she was doing, biting her bottom lip. He stepped around the car door and stood directly in front of her, his eyes holding her in place as he did. She found herself taking deep breaths, the anticipation building within her.

“Thank you for meeting me. I had a great time.”

She swallowed. Her voice wasn’t immediately ready. Finally, she managed to speak. “So did I. Really.”

He chuckled as he placed a finger under her chin, holding her face in place. “You don’t need to try and convince me.”

Her lips parted and she was about to explain herself, but he leaned in, and then his lips were on hers and whatever she was about to say was gone. She closed her eyes and surrendered herself to his kiss, her hands gripping the top of the car. His lips were soft as they pressed against her and she felt the moist warmth throughout her body. When he pulled away, breaking the kiss, she had to take a deep breath to settle her nerves. When she opened her eyes, he was smiling at her. “I hope you’ll meet me again.” He took a couple of steps back. “Be safe going home.” He turned and walked back to his car. When he opened his door, he turned and glanced back at her. She was still watching him. Feeling the heat of the blush on her cheeks at being caught staring, she ducked into her car and started the engine, the warmth of his kiss still on her lips.