The Brat and the Brainiac Read online

  “No. It’s hideous,” she tells me.

  “It can’t be that bad.”

  “It’s bad enough.”

  “Where’s it at?”

  “On my shoulder.”

  “Let me see it, Miranda. I mean, I’m going to see it eventually, if we keep going out.”

  “Fine. Whatever. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when it makes you blow chunks.”

  A lone tear spills over and I let go of her. She reaches across her body and pushes the left shoulder of her dress and bra down. There’s a scar there all right, but it’s only about three inches long and an eighth of an inch deep.

  I laugh. “That’s it?”

  She sniffles and dashes the tear away. “Yes.”

  “Big deal.”

  “It is a big deal,” she protests. “My parents were killed.”

  “I’m not talking about that. I mean the scar itself. It’s not that bad. You scared the hell out of me. I thought you were going to show me something really hard to look at.”

  “Well, how would you like to look at it every day of your life? Besides, it looks awful ina bathing suit.”

  “Miranda, it’s fine.” She doesn’t look convinced, and I know someone’s made fun of her for it in the past. “It’s fine.”

  She jumps to her feet, disbelief clear on her face.

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” she says in a pissed-off voice, stamping out of the room.

  “Okay.”

  When she gets back, she’s cool with me.

  “I don’t know if I can go out with you tomorrow after all,” she informs me. “I forgot I have a paper to write.”

  “Stop it.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Being a brat. You know you don’t have a paper to write.”

  She flops back down on the couch beside me and takes a different tack, pulling my head down for an angry kiss. I yank away and hold her off.

  “Hang on. Are we going out tomorrow or not?”

  “It depends. Are you going to fuck me?”

  I lift my brows, a little shocked by her language. “Tomorrow? How about we play it by ear and start with a nice lunch?” She gives me a funny look, a mixture of both hurt and irritation, and I say, “Laugh. It’s a joke.”

  “Ha ha.”

  She grabs me by the shirt and drags me closer, pressing herself up against me.

  “Come on,” she whines. “Uncle Tommy’s on a date and Ignatius is gone. We have the whole house to ourselves.”

  “I don’t even have my tests done yet.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll give you a free pass.”

  “Thanks, but no.”

  She looks stymied, like no one has ever turned her down before.

  “Why not?” she asks me.

  “Because your uncle said not to, and I respect him, for one.”

  “What’s the other reason?”

  “Because I don’t want to.”

  Her shoulders sag and she looks like she wants to cry again. She just stares at me for a moment, and then suddenly, she speaks.

  “Are you gay?”

  “No.”

  “Then you’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Come on. Admit it. You’re a wussy little virgin and you’re scared of Uncle Tommy.”

  I turn away, my jaw clenching. For a guy like me, five-foot eight and a hundred seventy pounds soaking wet, I’ve been called a wussy before, and it has never failed to piss me off.

  “You’re being a real brat.”

  “So what? What are you going to do about it? Tell my uncle on me?”

  “I’m going to put you over my knee if you’re not careful.”

  “Hah. That’s what you think, because if you touch me, my uncle will kill you.”

  “Let him.”

  We stare at each other a moment, and I can see it in her eyes, that she’s a little aroused by the idea.

  “Well? Go ahead, you wussy. You can’t do anything to me.”

  To prove her wrong, I catch her wrist in my hand and drag her down across my lap.

  “Wait...what are you doing?”

  “I’m doing what you told me to. I’m spanking your ass.”

  “You can’t.”

  “I can and I am.”

  Pinning her down with my elbow between her shoulder blades and a hand on her hip, I smack her bottom hard. She yelps and starts trying to escape, but I’ve got a good grip on her.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I told you. I’m spanking your ass.”

  With that, I give her a few more swats over her dress. Her ass is nice and firm, and my heart’s pounding. I played around with spanking my girlfriend one time in college, but only half-heartedly. She wanted to role-play, and I felt stupid, but this—this is the kind of spanking I’d have given her if I’d truly been angry, like I am with Miranda. I keep spanking away, and she puts up a fight every time I land a swat, but not much of one. She yelps and squirms and pretends to try to get away, but she could easily slip my grasp if she really wanted to. The fact that she doesn’t tells me she’s secretly into this.

  “I’m telling my uncle,” she sobs.

  “Go for it.”

  “You’re the meanest boyfriend ever.”

  “Hey, you asked for this.”

  She doesn’t say anything else and I reposition myself, pulling up her skirt. She has pink lace panties on, and I can see her skin peeking through, can see where she’s starting to get pink herself. I want to pull those panties down so badly, but these things have to be done properly, and she’s got to be spanked over them first.

  I proceed to do just that, and she looks like she’s starting to get uncomfortable. She whimpers and moans, but I ignore her until she suddenly throws her hand back and tries to block me.

  “Just for that, those panties are coming down,” I say. I expect some resistance when I pull them down, but she lifts up for me without my even asking.

  “Good girl,” I tell her. “Now, I’m going to go fast and hard, but I want you to lie as still as you can.”

  I grab her wrists and stretch her arms out in front of her, ordering her to stay like that. For some reason, this position makes her lower her head and cry. I ignore her tears and begin again, slapping her ass and making it bounce.

  “Please,” she whispers.

  “Just a little longer.”

  I don’t really spank her any harder than before, but her reactions are real now. Her sobs grow more insistent, and I know I should stop, but I really don’t want to. For some reason I want to master her, just for a while, just to see how far she’ll let me go.

  Suddenly, she breaks. She pleads with me to stop between sobs, so I do.

  “Do you promise to be a good girl?”

  “Yes.”

  “Still think I’m a wussy?”

  “No.”

  “Okay. Then you can get up.”

  She crawls up awkwardly and pulls up her panties, and then she smooths her skirt back into place before turning around and sitting down beside me. From time to time, she sniffles, and she’s pretty when she cries. I reach across her, grabbing a tissue from the box on the end table and hand it to her. She dabs the corners of her eyes with it and I feel sorry for her, so I drag her over and sit her on my lap, pulling her close.

  I try not to let her see how much my hands are shaking as I kiss the end of her nose.

  “Mad at me?” I ask her solemnly.

  “No. It’s just...are you going to do this a lot?”

  “Are you going to be naughty a lot?”

  “I’ll try not to.”

  “Then I’ll try not to spank you.”

  She looks at me through tear-filled eyes. But there’s more than just tears in them, there’s desire, too. I know she still wants me to take her to bed, and I want it, too, but I pretty much promised her uncle I wouldn’t, so I decide to make her wait until after our road trip to do it—if we’re still together by then. T
hat’s got to be enough dates to suit even Tommy Wright.

  I do kiss her, though, with thoughts of getting to third base. Her mouth’s sweet and hungry and she’s abandoned her tears and sniffles, but just when I’m about to reach up under her skirt, I hear the sound of the back door shutting and footsteps coming closer.

  Apparently, she hears them, too, and she hurries off my lap and sits beside me. We both sit up ramrod straight, trying to look as innocent as we can.

  “So, what’s happening?” asks Tommy, appearing in the doorway.

  “Nothing. I’m just getting ready to leave.”

  “Did you guys behave yourselves?”

  “Unfortunately, yes,” she says tartly. “Did you?”

  “Yeah,” he says, tossing his jacket on a nearby chair, “as a matter of fact, I did. It seemed only fair. Want a beer, Jason?”

  “No, I’m good.”

  He goes into the kitchen and returns with one for himself. He shoves his jacket aside and sits down, propping his feet up on the ottoman.

  “So, are you two kids going out again tomorrow?”

  “No time,” I tell him. “I haven’t even started to pack for the trip.”

  “Yeah. I have a ton of shit to do, too. As a matter of fact, I should be getting to bed soon.”

  Miranda jumps to her feet and turns to us.

  “You two suck.”

  I glance at her in surprise.

  “What the hell did we do?” asks Tommy.

  “You think you have it all sewed up between yourselves, don’t you? Well, I have a say in this, too, and if you think I’m waiting ten days for you, you’re out of your mind.”

  “Wait,” I say. “I thought we were having a nice time.”

  “Oh, go home,” she tells me. “I don’t think I want to go out with you anymore.”

  I shoot a glance at Tommy, but he looks as mystified as I feel.

  “Just a Goddamned minute,” he tells her. “You were all into this earlier.”

  “Well, I changed my mind. Jason, you’re a nice guy and all, but I don’t see this going anywhere.”

  This stuns me. I’m not sure if she’s saying all this because of her scars or because I spanked her butt, so I just sit there with my brow furrowed, frozen in time.

  “And anyway,” she says, hand on her hip, “it’s not like we’ve known each other very long.”

  “Then how can you say we’re not going anywhere?”

  “Because I’m too young to be in a serious relationship, so I think it’s best if we—”

  “No.”

  “No, what?” she asks me.

  “No, Miranda,” I say, pointing with both my fingers toward the floor. “We’re doing this. I don’t care what you say.”

  She doesn’t say anything at all for a long minute, so long it’s starting to seem like she’s forgotten how to speak, and Tommy’s just staring at me like I’ve sprouted a second head.

  “Are you listening to me?” I ask her.

  “Yes.”

  “Good, because we’re going out when I get back from that road trip, and I don’t want to hear another word about it, you got that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then stop being bratty and come give me a kiss. I have to go home.”

  “Fine, you big bully.”

  I have to laugh, because literally no one has ever called me that before, not even my sisters. Miranda gives me a chaste kiss on the lips and moves away. I can see that’s all I’m going to get out of her, so I turn toward Tommy.

  “Well,” I tell him. “See you at the ballpark tomorrow night.”

  “Yeah,” he says, looking a little dazed. “See you, tiger.”

  When I get to the ballpark the next night, Tommy and several of the other guys are standing around in a circle, shivering. A cold wind’s blowing in off the bay, and the bus has yet to arrive. When Tommy and the guys see me, they break into howls.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, and Tommy comes forward.

  “Nothing. Just telling the guys how you put the smack down on my niece.”

  “I don’t know,” I tell him, starting to regret last night, “she seemed pretty pissed-off when I left.”

  “That’s just because you got the better of her. She’ll simmer down. She’s a good kid. And don’t worry, despite what she said, she’ll be waiting for you when we get back.”

  As if to prove his point, my phone rings just then and it’s Miranda.

  “I wanted to wish you a safe trip.” she tells me.

  “Thanks. I miss you already.”

  “Me, too. I wish you didn’t have to go. I wish I gave you a better kiss. The way we left things...I don’t know.”

  “It’s all right, Miranda. I’ll be back before you know it, and then we’ll get this relationship all dialed in.”

  “Promise?”

  “Yeah. The game’s at ten am on the twenty-eighth, so I should be home by five or six. I’ll come scoop you up and we’ll have dinner with the old people again.”

  “Deal.”

  I can tell she’s smiling again, and I wish I were there to see it, those lovely dimples peeping and her eyes dancing. I want to tell her I love her, but not over the phone like this, not now when I can’t even hold her.

  When we go out after the road trip, it’ll be our third date (assuming last night counted as a date) so maybe I can make it up to her, maybe after I take her to dinner, I’ll invite her home and get with her, just to prove how much I like her. I’ll whip out the candles, the soft music, the whole bit. Maybe I’ll get her some lingerie, too, and show her how attractive I find her in it.

  I turn to Tommy.

  “What’s Miranda’s favorite color?”

  “Think about it, dude,” he tells me.

  “Oh, yeah,” I say, remembering her pink car. “Well, do you know what size she is?

  “A six, I think. Why, what are you planning?”

  “A surprise for her, to show her I’m more than just bossy.”

  Tommy smiles.

  “That was awesome last night,” he tells me. “You seem so docile, and then you just snap and go all forceful on her? She needs that. She takes things way too casually.”

  “Is that why you set this whole thing up?”

  “What whole thing?”

  “You know. Inviting me to the party.”

  “Yeah,” he says, going for honesty. “Yeah, it is. I’m glad you kicked things up a notch, claimed her for yours. She’s just been kind of drifting lately, and that kid, Dennis, was definitely not helping.”

  Since I don’t know Dennis, I have no opinion, so I speak to him about her scars instead.

  “I told her they’re not that bad.”

  “I know. She told me after you left.”

  “She acts like she’s disfigured or something.”

  “Don’t I know it? At least I never have to get onto her about wearing skimpy tank tops and such. She won’t go near them.”

  Just then, the bus pulls up and parks, and the driver gets out. The other guys start giving him their bags and filing in. Once they’re all on the bus, I turn my back and talk just loud enough for Tommy to hear over the noise of the idling engine.

  “Well, when we get back, I’m going to try to make her see how pretty she is, and how much she means to me.”

  Tommy looks at me sharply.

  “Really? Already?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Cool. Let’s get in this fucking bus, though. I’m freezing my balls off.”

  Miranda

  After I hang up with Jason, I sit there in the kitchen thinking. I’m not too crazy about the way things ended last night, but I’m glad Jason didn’t break up with me—or let me break up with him. I really, really like him, and even though I didn’t like being yelled at, I wish we’d had more time together, because I have a feeling he was going to try something.

  Ten days is going to be like forever.

  I hear the door open and turn my head. Ignatius is just coming in wit
h his suitcase, because he stays with me whenever Uncle Tommy has to be out of town.

  “What are you moping around like you’re in mourning for?”

  “I miss Jason and Uncle Tommy.”

  “Your uncle just left an hour ago.”

  “I know.”

  “Well, stop drooping around. Run up to my place and get my phone. I forgot it.”

  “Can I have a shot of tequila when I get back?”

  “Yes, of course. Do you mind if Kevin comes over after work, or will that remind you too much of Jason?”

  “I guess it’s okay.”

  “I won’t invite him if it will bother you.”

  “No, it’s cool. I have to study for a quiz anyway. Let me go get your phone.”

  “It’s on the counter.”

  I run up to Ignatius’s apartment over the garage. It’s neat as a pin, which reminds me of Jason’s place, which further depresses me.

  “What now?” says Ignatius, when I get back.

  “I just wish Jason was here. We didn’t even get to do anything last night.”

  “That’ll make it all the sweeter when you do,” he tells me.

  “I know, but that’s almost half a month away.”

  “Well, drink your shot of tequila and you’ll feel better.”

  I do as Ignatius tells me and drink it while he gets on the phone to Kevin. He’s right, I do feel better after I drink it, so much so that I have another.

  “That’s enough for now,” says Ignatius, pressing the phone into his chest so he won’t be yelling into Kevin’s ear. “Put the top back on that bottle and go study.”

  Ignoring him, I pick up the bottle again and prepare to pour myself a third shot.

  “You guys treat me like I’m a big baby.”

  “You’re a little girl. You’re a young lady.”

  “I know. I went to charm school, remember?”

  “Too bad you didn’t learn anything about deportment. Now, put the bottle down and behave yourself.”

  “Yes, I did,” I tell him. “I learned all those girly, fussy things, like how to eat a lobster and make tea.”

  For some reason, this makes me laugh, and Ignatius goes back to his phone call.

  “So, come on over,” he tells Kevin, getting ready to ring off. “I have to go. Miranda’s losing her mind over here.”