Chapter 10

It was actually a good thing that my brother caught us that morning walking out of the shower together.

It gave my sister a chance to talk about what lies we might use and get our story straight. The spider story I told Brandon was admittedly flimsy, and while it might have been plausible, it was unlikely my parents would buy it.

I wasn’t the guy you want to call when there is a bug in the house. I’ve freaked out before and ran away.

I don’t want to blame my sister for planting a spider somewhere and engineering a scenario where I’d panic as soon as I discovered it in order to humiliate me back in the old days. However, I wouldn’t put it past her to have done that, either.

Once we settled on our story, we went down for breakfast. I didn’t give my sister a chance to sit down at the table.

“Okay, I expect you to help mom, listen to her instructions, and you will ONLY sit your fat butt at the table when you have made sure everyone else is eating and has everything they need.”

“Jason! Don’t talk to your sister that way” my father immediately sounded annoyed and offended that I was rude to my sister. He always ignored it when my sister made fun of me at the table.

“It’s fine, Daddy. Mister Jason and I have a bet,” my sister explained. She was dressed in nothing but her sweater. She had at least changed into the clean one this morning. Her hair was perfect, her make-up was on right, she looked really hot.

“Oh, are you two still doing that silly bet?” my mom chuckled.

“Yeah, we hammered out the arrangement,” I explained. I was prepared to explain as much or as little as I needed to in order to present a plausible cover story. I started with high confidence, but the moment I made contact with my parents the story began to erode. I was not a very convincing liar by any stretch of the imagination.

“Sounded like you were hammering something up there last night,” My Dad said. “Did you see a spider and freak out again?” he laughed.

I laughed as well, but mostly because if we had gone with the story about me killing the spider in the bathroom, that would have just gone right out the window.

“No, Thunder Thighs and I were arguing...”

“Jason, please don’t insult your sister like that. It is demeaning.”

“Not if its true,” I offered a quick zinger. I saw my sister suppress a short smile, and Dad nearly choked on his coffee.

“Jason!” my mom sounded outrageous.

“Well, actually, she agreed that I could call her that,” I said, and I looked at my sister to confirm what I had just said.

“What I said was, I DARE you to call me Thunder Thighs in front of mom and Dad, I didn’t think you would do it,” she offered with a lemony expression.

“Well, I dared! You ALSO said that you were capable of being called a name while not calling someone a name back, and said you would prove it!”

“I am capable, and I will prove it, Mister Jason!”

The strategy I chose was simple. Even though my sister is a fantastic liar, I am not. I was going to tell as much of the truth as possible and then let my sister confirm what I just said was true.

An incredulous look spread across my mom’s face. Brandon was giggling to himself when he heard her call me Mister Jason as well.

“What? You don’t think I can address my brother with respect even if he calls me a name?” Taylor confronted my mom’s doubts head on.

“Face it, you can dish it out, but you can’t take it, Sis.”

“Oh, I can take it, I can take a whole lot of it!” Taylor’s secretive grin suggested she was talking about more than insults – she was talking about dick. Mom didn’t have a clue though. This seemed like any ordinary little argument between siblings around the house.

“Show me! Tell mom why you said you would call me Mister Jason,” I demanded.

“I’ve been calling MISTER JASON,” my sister pretended like the words to address me as Mister scorched her tongue before continuing, “all sorts of mean things over the years. So, we agreed to a bet. He can call me all sorts of mean things to my face, and I have to be nice to him today.”

Mom softened and said that was her kind of bet. “I don’t like that it takes a bet for you to be nice to your brother, but whatever works.”

“What else?” I had prepared Taylor in advance for this conversation by practicing it once. I wanted it to seem like I was dragging the information out of her rather than just laying it out. That would make it seem more plausible.

“I have to respect your opinions, address you and everyone with respect, and be pleasant, attentive, and generally helpful,” my sister said the last few words with a big fake smile on her face like she was quoting me in a patronizing manner.

According to the rules we laid out in front of my parents, My sister would need to continue this behavior through Christmas day. The cherry on the top to that was that I could say I was doing all of this under the auspice of having a harmonious Christmas Day which would thrill my mother.

If it any point, I backed down and lost control or authority, didn’t know how to handle a situation, and generally seemed wishy-washy, then I would lose the bet.

If, however, I could actually keep my sister in line through Christmas Day, she would behave for the remainder of the Winter Break.

So far, all of this was relatively true to the spirit of what she asked me to do in private.

“What happens when you lose this bet?” my Dad seemed mildly amused by the prospect of his eldest daughter behaving herself around the house. She may have been mom’s spoiled princess, but I think Dad simply tolerated the fact that she got away with whatever she wanted to do.

“When I win the bet,” my sister observed wryly, that my father was suggesting she was definitely going to lose. “Mister Jason becomes bitch boy or whatever name I want for him, and has to be the one doing all the chores, waiting on me hand and foot, and he gives me back MY bed, and he can sleep on the pallet on the floor.”

My father chuckled. “He kicked you out of your old bed?” he was pleasantly surprised that I could be that assertive. His question was rhetorical, even though my sister made some comment about chivalry being dead.

My sister also added that it would prove once and for all who should be in charge when our parents are out. “I may not have been fair, but I maintained order. I bet now that I am gone, my brothers are super lazy and half-ass all their chores.”

She assured my father that her intent was that it would probably only take a few hours before it became clear I wasn’t cut out to lead, and I’d make a far better follower. “He doesn’t have a spine,” she mused.

She would have been right about that a few months ago. The past day had really vastly improved my confidence.

“So, what happens when you forget to call him Mister Jason, or don’t feel like actually doing your chores because a friend calls with an invitation to a party?” I was counting on my father’s keen intellect to kick in and ask that question. I had intended to tell them if he didn’t, but I assumed he would see the glaring but intentional hole in the bet.

What would happen when Taylor got bored and just decided to go out and do whatever she wanted to do?

“It isn’t going to happen,” my sister insisted.

“Tell him what happens when it DOES happen, because we all know you are going to get bored and try to go back on your deal.”

“It isn’t going to happen, Mister Jason, so it doesn’t matter,” my sister declared and folded her arms in front of her.

Brandon was coming down the stairs and listening to the back and forth. My parents seem pleasantly amused by our little discussion. It felt like once again we were lobbing a tennis ball back and forth in a game except this time we were coordinated and knew where the ball was going to land next.

“You aren’t going to tell them because you are embarrassed,” I smiled.

“No, I don’t care if they know or not,” my sister smiled.

“Then why don’t you tell them?”

“Why don’t YOU tell them, Sir?” my sister’s tone suggested she was daring me.

“Because I ordered you to tell them, and you agreed to do what I tell you. So, tell them what happens if you don’t obey an order.”

“Fine,” my sister closed her eyes as if mentally preparing herself. She straightened her sweater and pulled it down slightly. She was wearing those anal beads stuffed up her big ass. “If I were to forget to be polite, or disobey a direct order, or be lazy then, my brother can punish me.”

“Haha-haha,” Dad’s boisterous laugh was louder than my mothers. “How is that? He’s going to ground you? That never works. You just slipped out that window in your room and off you go,” Dad chuckled.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, because I do not plan on getting trouble, so I basically agreed to whatever.”

“Tell, them what whatever is,” I insisted.

“Fine, I agreed to let Jason hold the bag I brought. So if he were to send me to my room, I wouldn’t have anything to wear except this sweater and what I have on underneath,” my sister implied there was clothing underneath. That was my idea.