“I did. Do you like it, Johnny?”
“I do. Thank you, but you didn’t have to do that, Tory.”
Tory shrugged. “I had time on my hands. You know, TV gets boring, and when I rub it too much, my clit gets really tender-”
“Tory! Come on.”
“I’m teasing, silly.”
“Well, thanks again for the clean home. That is a nice surprise.”
“Oh, that’s not the surprise. Go work out and I’ll tell you about that later.”
After working out, I emerged from my shower to the heavenly scent of cooked beef. Tory had made a perfect medium-rare seared flank steak with prosciutto and basil, roasted garlic parmesan potatoes, and steamed fresh broccoli and cauliflower.
“Wow, Tory!” I said, savoring my first bite of the first home-cooked meal I’d had in almost two months. “This is incredible! I didn’t know you could cook like this.”
Tory smiled at the compliment, smoothing her skirt ironically. “I’m a keeper, remember?”
“Yeah, you are. I hope you start believing it soon, T-bird.”
“Me, too, big brother.” Tory poured a glass of wine for me. “Tell me what you think of this.”
The wine was deep and fruity, wonderfully complementing the beef. “Wow, that’s great. Which one is it?”
“It’s called a Malbec,” she said with a smile.
“That’s not one I bought. Where’d you get this?”
“A nice clerk at the wine shop helped me pick it out.”
“How did you not get carded? You barely look 18, let alone 21.”
Tory smiled, then stood up and leaned slightly forward over the table, smiling sweetly, her blue eyes on mine as she brought her arms close to her sides, pushing her perky breasts together inside her sheer white blouse in a very interesting way. “Guys like boobs,” she explained.
I swallowed hard as my cock twitched in response. “It’s good wine,” was all I could think to say.
“Awww, did I embarrass you, Johnny?” she teased, reaching across the table to pinch my cheek. “I’m sorry. Or maybe you’re an ass man?”
“Good steak, too.” Tory sat down, a satisfied little smile on her face.
Sometimes, it was frustrating being a big brother.
After dinner, Tory suggested we listen to some of my “ancient music” after she put the dishes in the sink to soak. My apartment didn’t have a dishwasher.
“I believe you’d mentioned a surprise?”
“I decided that should be for later,” Tory said with a sly grin.
“Alright, Ms. Secretive. Music will be good.”
“Hey, Johnny, since it’s the weekend and I’m not driving anywhere, what do you say we be all rock’n’roll and get a little shit-faced tonight?”
“Tory…” I started to object, then thought twice. She’d had a rough couple of days, and I could keep her safe. “Sure. Why not?”
Tory clapped happily. “Yay! Will you teach me about this music, Johnny? I want to understand why you like this old stuff so much better than normal music.”
I snorted. “Normal music? T-bird, tonight I’ll give you a crash course on the music that paved the way for any good music that exists today!”
Honestly, once I had a few drinks in me, I really got into giving my sister an intro to rock music from the late 50s through the 80s. My love of the music came from our Uncle David, our dad’s older brother, who was a serious rock hound. For my 11th birthday, he’d given me an old suitcase phonograph, a stack of vintage 45s, and the beginning of an education in music I’d kept up all my life. Uncle David had died of an undiagnosed aneurysm when I was 16. He left me his entire music collection and his kickass stereo system. These were still my most prized possessions.
Tonight, I hoped to pass along an appreciation of this great old music to my favorite person, my baby sister. From Orbison, Cooke and Simon (with and without Garfunkel) to 60s psychedelia, blues rock, and country-rock, the amazing late 60s – 70s prog rock, as well as early punk, and the myriad sounds that came out of the 80s, Tory got an hours-long overview of music that meant a lot to me. She seemed interested and appreciative, asking great questions and making astute observations. She was honest about what she immediately liked and what she didn’t.
The music was loud and the drinks were strong. Of all I played for her, she latched onto the sound of The Psychedelic Furs, even asking me to replayLove My Way after hearing it the first time.
“What was that first part?” she asked. “I couldn’t quite make it out.”
I was buzzed enough to sing to her as it played:
‘There’s an army on the dance floor/ it’s a fashion with a gun, my love/
In a room without a door/ A kiss is not enough in/ Love my way…’
Tory had closed her eyes as I sang. “You know, I can almost see that!” she said. “That’s some amazing imagery.”
“Great lyrics don’t just rhyme, sis. They paint just enough of a picture so you find your view of what you think the artist meant. It’s powerful stuff.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I get that. Let me hear it again, please.”
After several repeated listens, she sang along very well to the song, her arms thrown drunkenly over my shoulders as she pressed her forehead to mine:
‘Love my way, it’s a new road/ I follow where my mind goes.’
I joined her for the last verse:
‘So swallow all your tears, my love/ And put on your new face/ You can never win or lose/ If you don’t run the race…’
As I went to mix us each another drink, Tory stood, swaying to the fading music. “I so owe you for this, Johnny. I gotta find this stuff on Spotify.”
“Last call,” I said, bringing her back a weak vodka and cranberry.
“Awww,” she complained.
“Hey, it’s already after two a.m.,” I said. “The bars are already closed.”
“Really? Wow, this night flew by!” Tory shook her head to clear it. “Shit! I still gotta show you the surprise. Let me get my laptop.”
She pulled up a Facebook page, where students from the university posted upcoming events.
Happy Fuck Valentine’s Day!, the event was titled.
Some students, apparently disenchanted with the upcoming holiday, were hosting a get-together for singles. It promoted a ‘no pressure’ environment for people who were unattached to spend the evening. It sounded to me like an attempt, probably by lonely college guys, to find a hookup for the corporate-sponsored ‘day of love’.
“Cool idea, huh?” Tory asked, her blue eyes gleaming.
“Really?” I asked. “This interests you?”
“Think about it, Johnny. Nobody likes being alone on V-Day. It’s maybe a little pathetic to be alone, don’t you think?”
“Well, I guess this gives people something to do…”
“Yeah!” Tory exclaimed. “So I was thinking we could-”
“Whoa, hold on there! We? I’d say I hope you’ve got a mouse in your pocket, but my building doesn’t allow pets. I couldn’t see myself going to something like that, even if Iwas still a student.”
“Oh, no no no,” Tory was shaking her head. “I don’t want to go to it! I was thinking since neither of us has someone now, we could at least spend the day with a person we really love.”
“Oh, T-bird,” I started slowly, “that’s sweet of you, but wouldn’t you rather go have some fun and excitement?” I indicated the webpage.
“I don’t want fun and excitement, Johnny,” she said. “I want to be with you!”
“Well, thanks a fuck-ton!” I laughed.
“You know what I mean,” she said, placing her hands on my forearm. “Look, I’ve already got the night planned out. We start with a nice dinner, just the two of us. Maybe I cook for us, maybe we go out. Whatever you want, big brother. Then, we each pick the least romantic movie we can think of and that’ll be our entertainment. No romance, no pressure. We’ll exchange gifts, but since I’m a broke college student, I’d need to keep it under $20, if that’s ok.”