The Stepbrother (Red's Tavern 5)

“Please explain to me what a blow job machine is,” I said. I glanced at him again.

“Trick question,” he said, winking. “Everybody knows I’m the blow job machine.”

“You have the sense of humor of a thirteen-year-old,” I said.

“And the body of a porn star,” he said.

“Is that your end goal?” I asked. “Try to get Instagram famous and then parlay it into a gay porn career?”

“I wish,” Sam said. “But no. I don’t actually want to get Instagram famous, to be honest.”

“Bullshit.”

“I don’t,” he said. “I post for my friends. I definitely like sharing my life, but I don’t need fame.”

“Wow,” I said. “You’ve done more than just grow muscles since high school. Your brain is smarter, too. You used to want to be a famous actor.”

He let out a wistful sigh. “I know,” he said. “I still love acting. I wish I lived somewhere that had any sort of community theater. But… it’s going to sound lame, but I love working in Red’s Tavern. My goal is to just have my own bar someday, like Red.”

“Why do you think that’s lame?” I asked. “That’s an incredible goal.”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t know. I feel like a lot of people don’t take me seriously. I wear tank tops and I flaunt my body like I’m a damn peacock, but I think I could be a business owner one day.”

“You could be a great one,” I said. “I’m sure Tank Tops Gay Bar & Grill will be a huge success.”

He scrunched up his face. “And thank God you’re not going to be in charge of naming it.”

I had learned years ago that successful businesspeople came in all shapes and sizes. I’d met multimillionaires who still dressed like college students, and I’d met people who wore Balenciaga but were total frauds.

What really mattered was passion. And Sam had fucking boatloads of that.

“I don’t know how you’re allowed to drive a vehicle this big with your regular license,” Sam said, still gawking at my RV. “I know Mom and Greg have some sort of special RV license.”

I nodded. “I had to get one, too.”

His jaw dropped. “You’re kidding.”

“What? It wasn’t that hard. As a New York resident, I just had to take a driving test in an RV.”

“So you took a special driving test just for this trip?” he asked. “Damn, Fox. You must have really wanted to see us.”

I shifted in my seat, reaching for my sunglasses in the console and popping them over my eyes. “I told you I needed a break from the city.”

I heard the gentle sounds of the massage chair start to whir in Sam’s seat. “God,” he said, his voice low with pleasure. “This might actually make it worth riding with you for this trip.”

“Who said you’re allowed to ride with me?” I teased. “You see one bug and you think you’re invited in here? Maybe I wanted solitude.”

“This RV is so big I could be in the back and I may as well be in a different continent.”

As he melted into a state of relaxation, I turned up the Nina Simone and focused on the road ahead. After a while, Sam was right. I was certainly aware of having another person in the RV with me, but it didn’t feel bad having him around. I was used to Sam being the center of attention, loud and bold and anything but calm.

But I’d also never spent any real amount of time with just him. Sure, he could be a chatterbox, but right now, he was the opposite.

He kicked off his shoes and put his feet up on the dashboard.

“No way,” I said. “Off.”

He looked at me. “Yeah, I should have known that was coming.”

“Here,” I said, reaching over and pushing the recliner button. “The whole seat reclines as much as you want. You don’t need to put your feet on the dash.”

“Naturally,” he said.

Within a few more minutes, Sam was zoned out completely, scrolling through his phone while I kept my eyes on the road. It was another hour before we arrived in Salina and weaved through the town streets before arriving at a small sandwich shop.

We got our lunch and sat outside on picnic benches under a big blue awning. I ordered a giant black coffee, but Sam got water bottles for the whole family, passing them out while reminding everyone about the importance of staying hydrated.

He was like a damn mother hen, trapped inside the body of a hot, gay twenty-eight-year-old.

It was weird, but I couldn’t deny that I kind of liked him looking out for everyone, too. I dutifully chugged down half of the water bottle.

Groups of families came and went from other nearby tables, and the smell of sunscreen floated in the summer breeze. Cathy and my dad recounted Sam’s reactions to the cicada in the back of their RV, which apparently had now safely flown out of a window.