Controlling My Brother Pt. 01

Author's Note: This is a longer story with a slower build-up. Hopefully you find the wait worth it :).

I raised him. He's mine. He belongs to me.

Words gouged on a sheet of paper. Folded up and locked away somewhere in her mind. But not forgotten.

-----

'Your brother is downstairs, shall I buzz him up?'

'Yes, and ask everyone to kindly sit down and get some fucking work done.'

Paula watched through the glass window of her office as the reproach was delivered by her secretary. They had been friends once, but heavy is the head that wears the crown and all that. Out on the floor, a few employees threw Paula dirty looks, but before long they had drifted back to their desks. The open plan area was large - over fifty employees working away, presided over by Paula's irritable gaze. Most of the time they were well behaved, but late on a Thursday afternoon attention was liable to drift, eyes to wander, and tongues to loosen.

The dwindling sun probed Paula's room with its many fingers. Scrunched over a thick folder, she conceded defeat and switched on her lamp. She would be here for many hours yet. It had been three years since she'd taken the helm of Rebus & Tristan, and she still preferred to do the heavy lifting herself. Others were so unreliable, so mealy-mouthed, so sensitive to the touch of her scorn.

The lift beeped and Jake stepped out. A woman exited the lift too with an imperious flick of her blonde hair, her long legs on full display. Paula frowned, she didn't recognise her.

Jake surveyed the room and Paula took the opportunity to inspect her brother from afar. It had been four years since their fight, and now he had graduated and newly relocated to Sydney. He had broadened and he held himself more easily, but apart from that it was still him. She smiled.

'Jake is here,' her secretary Emma interrupted her thoughts over the intercom.

'Yes I can see,' Paula snapped back.

She watched as Emma strode over the wide floor to welcome her brother. He opted for a handshake, taking the tiny woman's hand in his large paw. The blonde stranger next to him said something and Emma leant back in genuine, throaty laughter. The stranger then slipped an arm intimately around Jake, squeezed herself to him, and beamed a gorgeous smile.

A viper in Paula woke.

Before long others had gathered around the couple, even reserved Laura began to chat away, going even so far as reaching out to appreciatively touch the blonde stranger's sweater, which she had looped over her arm. The blonde stranger who was so clearly, so comfortably in love with her brother.

Paula stomped to the door of her office and yanked it open.

'Was my last instruction unclear?' she asked with a loud voice.

She didn't wait to see the embarrassed silence settle over the room.

Eyes determinedly down, she continued making changes to the report, pen gripped tight. Someone would come to kiss the ring soon enough.

The door clicked open.

'Sis?'

Paula bit back a smile and looked up. Jake was a man now, and he knew it. His shirt fit well enough to reveal the taut form underneath, and he stood as the unconcerned conqueror of the space around him, posture relaxed. She stared, fascinated, her anger dissipated. The hurt of the past four years suddenly seemed small. The pen fell from her slack fingers and rolled off the desk. She bent quickly to retrieve it.

Emma had joined Jake at the door by the time Paula sat back up, overly close to him. She had an idiotic smile on her face.

The viper returned.

'Do you need something?' Paula asked coldly.

Emma's expression soured, she shook her head, and left the pair in peace. Paula's face reddened as Jake watched on with a raised eyebrow.

'So hospitable, aren't I,' Paula grumbled in self-deprecation and Jake grinned. She approached him and stood awkwardly before him; extended a hand and quailed at the formality of the gesture. Her smile, which moments before threatened to come too easily, now felt strained. She struggled to look her brother in the eye.

He bent down to hug her and suddenly none of it mattered.

'You must be Paula,' a soft voice interrupted.

Jake let go and Paula felt the warmth vanish.

The blonde stranger stood there, hand grazing Jake's back. She was even more gorgeous close up. Her lips were small but full, her cheeks flawless, and her eyes held an innocence that she clearly knew how to use.

'Paula, this is Jelena, my girlfriend.'

Paula observed with satisfaction the flicker of irritation that crossed Jelena's face. Only a girlfriend.

'Sorry sis,' Jake said, 'but is it Okay if she stays at yours too? She wasn't going to come until I had my own place, but at the last minute we changed plans.' He smiled guiltily at these last words.

'Of course that's okay!'

Paula looked Jelena in the eyes and smiled her most radiant smile. She felt the thrill of flexing an old skill. She could do this too.

'You're too generous,' Jelena said, matching her smile. 'We'll go grab dinner? Let you finish off your work?' She flicked her eyes over Paula's cluttered desk.

'I'm all finished, actually,' Paula said.

Jake tilted his head and smiled.

'Let's go then. Our bags are downstairs.'

'You guys okay with Japanese?'

Emma watched open-mouthed as the trio headed towards the lift.

'Home time everyone,' Paula announced to the room.

----

Paula stood silently in the lift as it descended, thinking. The last four years had been such a steady, controlled ascent. She had her work, a drawer full of dependable hobbies, and a growing sense of control over who she was. That had been her life. But now, trapped in this metal box saturated with the twin musks of her brother and his girlfriend, her chest heaved with warring sensations.

Since she was young Paula had felt so completely responsible for Jake. Their parents fought terribly and made up ecstatically - their lives revolved around this cadence. When Paula was 10 and Jake 4, they had disappeared from the house for 4 days, an occasion Paula still remembered clearly as the birth of her current self.

Their mother, no doubt knowing exactly what she was doing, had embarked on a lengthy interrogation of the fit young gardener, all while dressed in nothing but a barely opaque gown. Their father, watching from the window, knew nothing of what was being said. He saw only the nervous glances to his wife's chest and the pose that provoked them.

After a brief simmering period, he had bellowed down at her, his large frame shaking, before pushing past her down the outside stairs to where his car was parked. She taunted and scratched back, the exultant lilt of her voice clearly audible to Paula where she watched from the second floor. A moment later, he was gone, his sleek car spitting gravel. Then mother, after pausing for a sobering minute, followed at a more sedate pace in her SUV.

Over those four days Paula discovered that the tiny, tottering lump of flesh that was her brother wasn't so bad after all. He listened attentively when she spoke, he learned quickly, and he directed at her a serious, earnest affection that their parents displayed.

When the adults did eventually return, not a word was spoken of their absence. Arm in arm in the hall, the two of them had frowned at the uninjured, serene children, then shrugged. After that, the rhythm of their fighting continued unabated, enhanced even, now that it had received tacit acceptance.

In those early years, anything Jake tried to do, he did it effortlessly. He took piano lessons, he played tennis, chess, football and golf. He wrote songs and was flown around the country to compete in mathematics competitions. Paula sheltered him from the chaos and violence of family life under an aegis of constant activity. Any time she suggested this or that program or class to their parents, they accepted. Relieved to be able to discharge their parental responsibility with the wave of a credit card.

For Paula, Jake was just about everything. He was her responsibility, her pride, her inspiration, her masterpiece. But never really her companion. There was a distance, a professional, austere distance. She was stern and unapproachable, and so he found others to be his friends, his confidants. He learnt to relax and flourish in the company of people who didn't require so much from him.

As Jake rose majestically through high school, Paula remained as obsessive as ever. Gossip spread of 'that crazy bitch,' the domineering sister who showed up at school dances to drag her brother home to study, who called up teachers to request grades of 19/20 get reviewed, pre-armed with dozens of arguments for why Jake's use of sources was air-tight, or his structure impeccable. She was deaf to the comments, but Jake was not. He grew away from the stake Paula had planted for him, no longer entwining so tight. Rage and shame festered.

Meanwhile Paula herself had begun university. She overloaded on subjects, and chaired the chess club, and all the various pressures threatened briefly to crush her to dust. But she survived, graduating in only two years with two internships already under her belt.

The day of her first bonus was a fateful day. Phillip Rebus invited her into his office, appraised her appearance in that characteristic way of his, swivelling on his office chair as she entered, looking deliberately up and down her form. She bored into him with her eyes and he sighed.

'I wanted to hold this over your head a little longer, but you're too damn good, so here you go,' he said, sliding an envelope towards her. She took it without word, stuck out her tongue, and returned to her desk. She sat there with trembling hands, eased the envelope open, but before reading its contents, noticed a text message from Jake.

Can you leave me the house for the afternoon? Got a guest.

Got a guest. 18 years old and in the lead-up to his high school finals, Jake wasn't supposed to be wasting any time, let alone with a guest of unspecified gender.

Paula pleaded an appointment and left the office in a hurry. Sitting in the driveway, knuckles still gripping the wheel, she tried to calm herself.

Jake was topless, entangled with an unknown figure on the couch, lips locked, apparently too engrossed to notice Paula's entrance.

She strode over, and before the couple had a chance to react, grabbed a fistful of the girl's hair and yanked her up.

Chaos broke out.

The girl started screeching, slapping at Paula; Jake rose to his feet, bellowing, indiscernible words and rage.

Paula remained still, enduring the feeble flailing.

She delivered a ringing smack to Jake's cheeks.

A brief quiet descended, and the girl paused in her struggles.

'You can get out now,' Paula said coldly. The girl, wearing only her panties, scrabbled for her clothes, her shoes. The two siblings stared each other down while she dressed herself and fled quickly through the front door.

'You shouldn't have done that,' Jake said quietly.

'I don't want to hear it,' Paula responded. 'You have two weeks left. Don't screw this up now.'

'You shouldn't have done that,' he repeated. He looked shocked. But soon his expression became fixed, prepared.

'I don't want anything more to do with you. I don't want to see you, I don't want to talk to you.'

'Nonsense, you're so close now, you need me.'

'I don't actually,' he said mildly. 'I've come to realise that. It took me the longest time. To figure out that I was just good at things, with or without you.'

Paula felt a surge of irritation. This fight was such a waste of time.

'You can be mad at me later,' she said impatiently.

He placed his hands on her shoulders. For not the first time she marveled at how much he'd grown. She sensed a lurking strength in his hands, saw that the look in his eyes wasn't anger, but clarity. She stepped back, feeling numb.

'But I did everything for you,' she protested, trying to find strength in her voice.

'You don't own me,' he said.

But I do, a voice in her wanted to scream.

'Please,' she said instead.

'You have money, I know you do. I don't want to see you again after today. Move out, you're not welcome here anymore. You've controlled my life for long enough.'

All eternity wouldn't be long enough. The thoughts were roiling. Her arms felt peculiarly dead at her side, her throat felt choked.

'And if I agree to this?'

His mouth twisted in a bitter smile, recognising the bargain he now had to propose.

'I don't know. Maybe in 6 months, a year, I will think about it. But you need to go.'

In the lift Paula smiled sadly. It had been four years, not one. And then finally out of the blue her phone had beeped sheepishly.

I think I'm ready. I've missed you a lot. I'm moving back to Sydney soon. Catch up?

She knew already that he had finished an aeronautical engineering degree, accumulating about a million friends in the process. His Facebook photos revealed a joyousness, an abandonment that Paula had never seen him display. But interspersed in the raucous party shots, others told a different story. A photo at a train station, four of his friends in the foreground, with Jake apart, leaning against a pillar, bored and aloof. Another of a crowded balcony, its many occupants shouting and smiling at the camera, bar Jake who looked actively contemptuous. And finally at graduation, with a forlorn expression as he exited the stage, his strong brows raised with rare uncertainty.

These signs that all was not perfect each caused a moment of savage triumph in Paula, that quickly faded to pragmatic concern. What was he missing, what needed to be changed, was he eating well. Was it time for her to reach out. But on each cusp she paused long enough to think better of it. He had been right, after all. He did need to learn to be strong on his own.

So when he sent that first message, she thought long and hard about how to respond. Plans for Jake's future would form in her mind, branching fantastically, detailed and far-reaching. But each time she caught herself and scrubbed the drawboard clean. Plans involving Jake could fail, and failure hurt. Loneliness hurt.

Eventually she decided.

Come down to my office one time? I'm on Bligh.

Nice and simple.

Over the next few days it was decided: he'd stay at her flat while he set himself up. They'd see how it went, but he was making no commitment that he wanted her back in his life. Good enough.

---

Jake whistled appreciatively when he saw Paula's car.

'They pay me well,' she laughed.

'But a GT-R?'

'Your big sister likes to go fast,' she said, shrugging.

Paula observed with relish as Jelena was forced to crumple up to fit in the small back seat. She eased out of the carpark, and for the first time that night felt in complete control.

The sashimi was delicious, the cocktails decadent. The conversation flowed, consisting mostly of the couple's well-practiced patter, while Paula played obliging audience. She waved her credit card when it came time to leave, and Jelena excused herself to go to the bathroom.

'So what did you tell her about me,' Paula gestured with her head at the receding pair of legs.

'You mean did I tell her how crazy and possessive you are?'

Paula laughed.

'Don't worry, she doesn't know a thing. But maybe she'll learn soon enough?' Jake teased.

'I'm completely reformed! Promise!' Jelena feigned outrage, giving her brother a light slap on the arm.

The three of them detoured through Milson park, the lamps casting an eerie glow on the fidgety palms. Jelena, in her haughty haste, ended up a few paces ahead of the siblings. Their arms brushed lightly as they walked. Paula wanted to slow further and rest her head on her brother's shoulder, and be calmed by his newfound strength. But she couldn't bring herself to do it. She strode away to rejoin Jelena.

Paula's flat was a few streets back from the water, second storey. She switched the lights on to reveal the bare decor of the living area. Jake went to investigate each of the two bedrooms, whistling when he poked his head into the second.

'You Paint now?' he asked incredulously. 'Maybe you are reformed after all.' The room was cluttered with paints and easels, and the walls told a clear tale of progress.

'But of course you're into realism,' he muttered, surveying the several dozen canvases.

'One of you will have to take the couch, and I have a blow-up single lying around somewhere,' Paula said.

The arrangements were made, Jake on the couch, and Jelena, after an aborted attempt to join him, on the blow-up mattress.

With a light buzz still in her head, Paula retreated to her room.

But she couldn't sleep.

She was excited.

Controlled, orderly Paula was excited.

Paula, whose only real emotions for years had been grim satisfaction and irritation, was excited.

Her brother was back. The one person who had ever shone light into her life. Whose mind had fascinated her, whose potential had awakened her.

She gave up and switched on her light. Sat on the edge of her bed and looked at herself in the mirror. Eyed her appearance critically. Not that she had let it go. Rather, had automated its upkeep so completely that she had rare need to pay it any attention. But here she was, on the short side, on the slim side, with long black hair brushed and straightened. She had a sharp nose and a general countenance that matched her personality. But she liked the overall impression, always had. Few who looked at her face forgot it. She grasped her generous breasts experimentally, pushed them together, and was pleased at the result.

Somehow, two hours had passed since she'd left Jake and Jelena alone. She quietly opened the door and moved to the kitchen in search of cold water. On the way back stopped to observe them as they slept. Jelena somehow still looked elegant, her hands palm down on the pillow beside her head, delicate profile visible against the pillow.

Jake was much messier. The pillow had fallen to the floor and the blanket was scrunched down around his thighs. And he was topless.

Breathing softly, Paula approached. Her brother's body was hot. She dismissed the thought immediately as an irrelevant distraction. Resummoned it again as she considered the various uses such a body could be put to. Let it linger in her mind for many ticking seconds. Where slowly it began to settle, and spread, like a film over the topography of her mind. She convinced herself that maybe she ought to even touch the taut flesh of his chest, run her hands over his skin, feel its texture. It would be an instructive experience. He was sculpted in a way that she had never seen up close like this.

Jelena snorted in her sleep, and Paula looked over, angry at the interruption. The rage deepened. No longer merely the instincts of a protective sister, but something else, something frightening.

A wildness seized her, and she reached out and placed an entire hand flush on Jake's chest.

He didn't react.

She could feel the slow beat of his heart. She could feel the goosebumps covering his skin. Emboldened, she explored his torso slowly, alert to the tiniest sign of his waking. He was perfection, his skin felt so achingly familiar, yet opposite to hers. She brushed his chest, his stomach, and then reached the elastic of his shorts, was momentarily bewildered that somehow her meanderings had led to here. The blood pulsed in her head.

Her hands went elsewhere, again over his muscled chest, up and around his shoulder, cupping his bicep, measuring its girth. Then all around and over him again, and inevitably down. This time probing underneath his waistband, encountering thick hair, what could that be?

'Babe?,' Jake murmured in his sleep.