Sister Golden Hair

I do continue to question, however, your insistence on me not using words like 'cock' and 'pussy'. I really think the readers would like a little more intensity in the sex scenes. Anyway, hope to hear from you soon!"

I smiled and immediately began formulating my reply.

"My dear Irish, you are so above using those animalistic words. Don't degrade yourself to the level of some of these other authors! And as one of your six followers, I think your stories are just fine the way they are. Sex By The Bell, Part 17 is your best so far! Keep 'em coming (literally!)"

I stared at my phone after I sent my response. Sometimes Irish would get back to me almost immediately, which I loved because it was basically a real time conversation. Luckily for me, this was one of those times.

"It's actually seven followers now, thank you very much!" he replied. "Which I did the math on, and that's an increase of about 17%."

I laughed out loud. "Math and writing...you must be quite the catch!" I wrote back.

"You are clearly up to date on your understanding about what turns women on," he typed, his words oozing with sarcasm. "Once again, I question your femininity."

"Stop trying to trick me into telling you my gender!" I said. "Just because you decided to explicitly share with me that you are a man, that doesn't mean I'm going to return the favor. I told you from the beginning, the less we know about each other the better."

"And why is that?" he wrote back.

I thought for a while before I responded. "Because," I replied.

"Ah, good point!" he said.

I laid my phone down briefly and thought for a while. I really did want to share more details about myself with this guy. We had a lot in common, and our conversations were enthralling. But I just knew that sharing information would lead down a bad road, one that ultimately ended with one or both of us being disappointed with what we found on the other end of our screens, and I didn't want to lose this positive experience.

When I looked at my phone again, I saw another message from Irish.

"So listen," he began, "I've been thinking about making this my last Sex By The Bell story for a while. I'd kind of like to stretch my proverbial writing wings, you know? Maybe try something else. Thoughts?"

My feelings were strangely hurt at first. I didn't want this to stop, but I understood that there were only so many unique pairings of Saved By The Bell characters you could make before things started to become too repetitive.

"I get that," I wrote back simply. "I'm sad about it, but I get it."

"I'm not saying it's the end of the series, but I'd like to try something else for a while," he replied. "I'm sure I'll go back to it at some point. You cool still being my editor?"

"Of course I'll be your editor, silly!" I typed with a smile. "What were you thinking? Maybe a Happy Days themed story?" That was another show from my childhood that I dearly loved. "Maybe The Fonz keeps stealing Richie's girlfriends!"

"You mean...Fappy Days?" he replied.

"Ew!" I wrote back. "Okay, never mind on that!"

"I actually had something in mind already," he said. "Something I've already written a decent amount of. It just needs something though...some element that I'm missing that will really put it over the top. I was actually just working on it a few minutes ago when you sent me your message. Maybe in a few days time I'll have enough of it to send your way and get your thoughts.."

"Okay, sounds like a plan!" I replied. "Keep in touch, Irish."

"Will do, Toxic Sunshine."

With that, my daily excursion away from my real life was over. I briefly considered touching myself a little bit, as it was something I often did after talking to Irish or reading one of his stories, but I found that I just wasn't in the mood. Usually a conversation with Irish meant that I was equipped with a supply of happiness that would last me a decent part of the day, but given the doom of my brother's impending arrival, it just wasn't doing the trick.

I rolled over and began trying to think of what kind of story Irish was concocting, wondering if there had been any hints in any of our hundreds of conversations up to this point about something else that he was interested in. I felt my eyelids growing heavy and decided to give in to a nap, knowing that I would need all the strength I could muster to get me through the evening.

*****

A deafening roar caused me to wake up with a start. It took me a second to find my bearings, but eventually I realized what time it was and knew that my brother was home. The noise had been the eruption of cheers and whistles from our guests as he had walked through the door, no doubt.

I decided that I would just stay in my room and shit around on my phone until someone told me to do otherwise. It was actually a solid hour before my mother came to get me, which on the one hand made me happy, but also confirmed my belief that I was practically nonexistent when Jet was around.

When my mother opened the door and poked her head into my room, not surprisingly she wore an annoyed expression.

"You need to get out here right now," she said sternly. "Skulking in your room is not an option tonight."

"I'm not skulking," I replied. "I'm lying in wait for my big moment. You see, if I stay out of sight for long enough, people will think I've gone missing. Then, when I finally make my appearance, everyone will jump up and down for joy for me too!"

Mom rolled her eyes in a way that rivaled my own past eye rolls. "Just get out here," she said as she turned to leave. "Oh, and thanks for blowing up those balloons for me," she added as she walked out of sight.

I pried myself out of bed and stood up, straightening out my clothes. I glanced at myself in the mirror before I left and decided that I wanted to look extra rebellious and angsty for the dozens of old fogeys in attendance. I applied a thick amount of dark eye makeup and put in my flashiest nose ring. Although there was not much abnormal about that in the world of people my age, it would definitely be off-putting for much of this crowd. Finally, slowly but surely, I made my way into the merriment.

Our house was definitely at maximum capacity and then some. The living room was a sea of light blue Lions' jerseys, with a couple of navy blue Notre Dame jerseys sprinkled in. It was weird seeing all these people in my home, people whom I'd seen randomly around town from time to time but never had even spoken to. The rooms were so thick with people that I was having trouble breathing, so I made my way through the crowd to the front door and the respite of the fresh air outside.

As it turned out, the yard wasn't much of a respite after all. Even though the cool air felt good, there were still way too many people crowded around to enjoy it. What was worse was that above the cacophony of voices, one particularly loud and animated voice stood out, and it belonged to my father.

"Game 3 of the season: Lions at Seahawks," my father beamed. "This was the game that truly defined the greatness that my son would exhibit for the rest of the season." I couldn't see him due to the fact that so many people were crowded around him, but I could see his animated gestures in my mind that were certainly happening as he went through a play by play of that particular game. I could envision my dad, all 300 pounds of him, acting out each snap for the crowd, holding the invisible ball as he dropped back to pass in a poor imitation of my brother.

"...and then Jet drops a 40 yard pass perfectly into the hands of the receiver for a touchdown!" Dad concluded as the people around him cheered stupidly.

"Fuck it!" I said loudly to myself, knowing that no one could hear me, "I'm going back to my room!"

"No you're not!" a voice rang out suddenly from behind me. My mother was standing there, holding a plate of finger foods and looking at me angrily.

"Why are you forcing me to be out here, Mom?" I replied, trying not to get overly emotional. "No one cares if I'm out here. This party isn't for me."

"I care that you're out here," she said, her tone softening. "Your father cares, and most importantly, Jet cares."

"Jet doesn't care that I'm out here."

"How would you know? You haven't made any effort to speak to him since he got here."

"Then that equals the amount of effort that he's made to speak to me since he moved out of this house." As I said that out loud, I regretted it. I didn't want to give off the perception that I cared that Jet had basically written me off for the last several years. It made me feel stupidly vulnerable.

Mom reached out her hand and gently touched my face. "Jet loves you," she said. "He wants to talk to you, but he's just been bombarded by people since he got here...mostly your father. Just go over to him now and at least say hello, then you can go back to your room and not come out the rest of the night if you want."

"Ughhh...fine," I relented, knowing that Mom wouldn't leave me alone until I did. She smiled and hooked her free arm into mine, leading me over to the circle of people that surrounded my dad. Once we broke through the crowd, both my dad and Jet came into view.

The moment I saw Jet my heart fluttered. Not in a gushy romantic sort of way, of course, but in a way that happens when you see someone you care about after a long absence. Someone you used to care greatly about. I cursed myself for admitting that I had missed him deeply, even if I was only admitting it silently to myself.

My dad continued to recount play after play of that same damn football game to the onlooking people. To his credit, Jet just sort of stood there looking awkward and uncomfortable, which strangely endeared him more to me. Jet's eyes flickered over to Mom and he smiled. Then he looked at me and his smile got even bigger.

A small lump formed in my throat and, as much as I tried to force it back, I smiled back at him. It was like the muscles in my mouth were forcing my unwilling mouth upward. I turned my face away from his gaze, hating this moment. I looked angrily at the people surrounding us, their stupid faces lit up with their simple-minded giddiness.

"Honey!" my mom called out. My dad stopped talking and turned to look at her. "Honey, can you stop for a minute? Candy wants to say hello!"

"Goddamn you, Mom!" I thought to myself. Not only was I being forced into this interaction, but I was having to do it in front of a crowd of despicable strangers.

"Of course!" Dad replied. "Candy, get over here and say hello to your brother!"

Everyone stared at me, their expectant faces still lit up with joy. I looked anywhere except at Jet, my ultimate destination. As I stared at people's faces, my body filled with rage, and I wanted to break down into an angry cry right then and there. How dare my parents force this on me, and in such a manner! They had never taken seriously anything that I had ever said about my "perceived" unequal treatment between me and Jet, and this was just another example of them pushing my feelings aside, forcing this moment on me.

Slowly I made a few steps toward Jet, resolving to just say hello and immediately walk away, hoping my mother would keep her promise of leaving me alone. But as I listened to the people around me coo in a sickly sweet sort of way, no doubt thinking that this was just the cutest thing they had seen in a long time, I snapped. I walked the last few paces up to Jet, dropped to my knees, and began bowing in a very animated and exaggerated way.

"Oh, great brother!" I proclaimed loudly as I leaned my body forward into the grass. "I am so honored at your return! Thank you for blessing us with your presence, my lord...my savior!"

"Candy!" I heard my mother exclaim. "Get up now!"

I pulled myself up onto my knees once more, then leaned forward again. "Thy ball flew well this football season!" I continued. "We shall all rejoice, for ye hath returned! Oh great one, may you continue to bless us all with first downs, touchdowns, and victories! I pray that one day you make it into the promised land that is...the Super Bowl! Then, and ONLY then, will I be able to say that I have lived a fulfilled life, and I shall then take my own life in thy name."

I shimmied forward, still on my knees, and bowed again. I began kissing Jet's shoes. The loud smacking sounds that I was making seemed to be the only noise being made in an otherwise silent yard.

Eventually, I felt my mother's hand grasping my arm and pulling me up. I ripped my arm out of her grip and stormed off, tearing through the crowd of people as I did. If anyone was calling out to me, I didn't hear them. I didn't stop or listen to anyone the whole walk back to my bedroom.

As soon as I had locked my door, I flung myself onto my bed and commenced with my angry cry.

*****

I pretty much stayed in my room most of the next day. My mother had eventually come to my room that morning to talk with me, but thankfully she didn't stay too long. Once she mentioned the word "therapy", I decided it was best just to swallow my pride, apologize, and hopefully put the event behind me. Not that I was actually sorry, of course. It was just a means to get her off my back about the whole thing.

To make matters worse, I was bored out of my mind. I had bothered my friend Ally via every social media outlet we had, to the point where she was clearly ghosting me. Even Irish, who was usually quick to respond to my messages, didn't seem to be available. I didn't dare leave my room, though. No matter how bored I was, I just couldn't stand the idea of showing my face after the show I had put on the previous night.

Late that afternoon, however, my boredom and hunger got the better of me and I quietly opened my door. I stood in my doorway and listened for any signs of noise, but heard nothing at all.

"Hello?" I called out softly. No answer. I tried calling out a few more times, each time louder than the last, until I was confident that I was alone.

"Typical Orion family dynamics," I muttered to myself as I went into the kitchen in search of food. "They all go out together without even thinking of inviting little ol' me." Not that I would've wanted to go with them anyway, but some consideration would still have been nice.

I sang loudly to myself as I heated up some leftovers I found from the party. Once my food was ready, I scooped it up and headed for the living room to watch a little TV

Once I entered the room, I was surprised to see that the television was already on. Before I had time to process this information, a voice rang out from the couch and scared the shit out of me.

"I forgot what a nice singing voice you have, Candy," Jet said with a smirk on his face.

"Jesus Christ fuck!" I replied with a start, nearly dropping my food.

"No no, not Jesus," he said, putting his arms up beside him in a mock nailed-to-the-cross sort of way. "Just me. Not your 'lord and savior', or anything like that."

I rolled my eyes. "Guess I deserved that one," I said, taking a seat in a nearby chair. Jet just shrugged. "So what gives with not responding when I was calling out just a few minutes ago?" I continued.

Jet shrugged again. "Figured if you knew I was here you'd just scurry back into your room. I guess I didn't want you to starve to death in there."

"How considerate of you. Is that why the TV is muted? So I wouldn't hear it?"

"Clever girl," he replied in a poor impression of the British game warden in Jurassic Park.

"Well, why don't you...un-mute it, already?" I asked. "What are you watching anyway?

"The Steve Urkel Show," he replied as he turned up the volume.

I couldn't help but smile a little. "Obviously you know it isn't called that, right?" I asked.

"Should be," he said with a serious face. "That show would be pure shit without Urkel."

I laughed. "Do you feel like we've had this conversation maybe a couple dozen times before?" I asked, feeling sadly nostalgic in the moment.

"At least," he agreed.

"What episode is this, anyway?"

"The one where Steve falls and breaks something valuable of one of the other characters and they get really mad at him about it."

"Ooh, that's a good one."

We watched in a comfortable silence for a while as I ate my food. Several minutes later, as if noticing I was finishing up eating, Jet paused the show and put the remote down.

"Why?" I asked, looking at him in a bemused way.

"I haven't seen you in a while," he said. "I just thought it'd be nice to catch up. You know, see how you're doing."

"See how I'm doing?" I replied, not hiding my annoyance.

"Yeah," he confirmed.

"What do you care?"

He seemed taken aback at my question. "Well...I'm your brother."

"Are you?"

"Uhh, last I checked." I could tell by his tone that he sensed an outburst coming from me, and he wasn't wrong.

"Really? 'Cause last I checked we hadn't spoken in months. And before that? I don't even know. So don't act like you're fulfilling some sort of brotherly responsibility by checking in with me, because we both know that Mom asked you to do this and that you really don't actually care how I'm doing. Now if you wanna sit here quietly and watch old shows with me, I'm down. But if you wanna try and get all deep with me and shit, then I'm gonna peace out."

Jet had looked away from me while I tore him a new one. When I was finished, he kept his gaze averted and stared off into a random corner in the room. I could tell he felt bad, but I didn't care. Maybe turning eighteen had given me more spunk, more confidence to say what was on my mind. All I knew was that years of frustration had finally built up to the point where I just simply couldn't keep my mouth shut anymore.

"What are you doing here anyway, Jet?" I continued.

He looked back at me. Even at almost six and a half feet tall and being built like a lion, he looked strangely small laying on the couch in that moment. "What do you mean?" he asked softly.

"I mean...why would a 22 year old NFL quarterback millionaire come home to this quaint little back-water town during his time off when he could be out in some glamorous city having orgies and, and...I don't know, eating lobster at every meal."

"Orgies and lobster, huh?" he repeated with a smile. "Is that your idea of the high life, Candy?"

"Don't get cute with me while I'm making my point!" I said angrily. "There's no way that you actually want to be here. So why don't you just go back to your new mansion with your three swimming pools and toilet made out of gold and go on pretending that I don't exist. Because frankly, my life is much more pleasant without you around." With that, I got up and stormed away back to the security of my bedroom, closing the door with authority.

For the second time in as many days, I flung myself onto my bed and sobbed. I had so many thoughts and emotions coursing throughout my body that I couldn't even pinpoint why I was so upset. I knew without a doubt, though, that Jet was at the crux of the matter. My big brother, my best friend from long ago, who had abandoned me for a stupid game...he was the cause of all the angst that I'd ever felt, and I still loved the son-of-a-bitch so much. More than he would ever know, I resolved.

"Candy?" I heard him say from the other side of the door.

"What?" I replied back, trying not to let on that I was crying.

"I'd like to sit out here and say some things. You don't have to reply if you don't wanna, but is it cool if you just listen?"

"Whatever."

"Okay. I'll start with a few lighter things. First of all, I only have two swimming pools. And they were all out of gold toilets, so I had to settle for a silver one."

Jet paused, clearly waiting for me to laugh, which of course I did not.

"Hilarious," I said, deadpan.

"Also, you were right," he continued. "Mom did ask me to talk to you."