Return of the Sister: Part 6 (Patreon)

Barre class only lasted an hour and a half, meaning Bobby had to brace himself to put up with more “bootcamp” at home, but to his surprise, Serena was pretty hands-off. She had him back in the six-inch stiletto pumps, but seemed content to have him sashay back and forth with a book on his head while she did something on her laptop.

Bobby was used to her watching him like a hawk, critiquing every clicking step and upping his embarrassment whenever possible, so it was a welcome change. Maybe, against all odds, she was giving up? Maybe his “Barbie” act was so good that she was starting to question herself? It was an exciting possibility, but he tried not to get his hopes up as he swished around the living room with his hips swinging and his wrists held prettily limp.

To his amazement, it was still quarter to six when his older sister waved him away. “I have to make some calls, little sis,” she said. “Class is dismissed early today.”

“Fine by me,” Bobby muttered, leaning down gracefully to remove his stilettos.

“Ah ah ah,” Serena said, wagging a finger without even looking up from her laptop screen. “The shoes stay on, remember?”

Bobby grimaced, but he didn’t want to push his luck and end up learning to do a striptease or something like that. He straightened up, tossing his hair, and fled before Serena could change her mind. He was starving -- the barre class had been surprisingly draining, and he’d been too busy silently fuming at the cheerleaders to eat much during lunch hour -- so he headed for the kitchen.

“Hi, sweetie,” his mom greeted him, startling him slightly. He wasn’t used to running into her in the kitchen, since she only ever cooked when Serena was home. “How’s bootcamp?” she asked.

“Um, it’s fine,” Bobby said. “I got released early for good behavior,” he added wryly.

His mom chuckled. “I know Serena can be a little intense, but she’s really the best person to teach you,” she said. “She worked every bit as hard as she’s making you work now, I promise.” Her gaze travelled downward to his footwear and she gave a knowing smile. “You’re really getting much better in those, sweetie. Think of it as a right of passage we women all have to go through.”

Bobby tried not to make a face. He’d definitely never seen his mom wearing heels this high. “Thanks,” he said. “Can I get a snack?”

“Sure,” his mom said. “But only if you help me make these fajitas.”

Bobby didn’t normally help out in the kitchen, and definitely not while wearing an apron with a big floppy bow on it, but it was actually kind of nice. He helped slice up some peppers, struggling a little to manage the knife and cutting board with his long nails, while she did the bulk of the work much more efficiently. She cooed over him when he executed a very graceful pirouette on his way to the trash can, and complimented his “improved posture.”

Bobby hated getting remarks like that from Serena or Kimberly or the cheerleaders, reminders of how undeniably girly he was getting, but from his mom it didn’t sting the same way. For some reason, it felt kind of good. He’d rather she was praising him for hitting jump shots, but he had to take what he could get.

Serena was still on her call when dinner was served, which meant Bobby got to sit down to eat with just his parents. He still found it a little hard to make eye contact with his dad, especially after yesterday’s impromptu lingerie shoot, but he couldn’t deny he liked having their undivided attention as they asked him, for what felt like the first time ever, about his classes and his friends at school.

Deep down, he knew the reason he hadn’t told them the truth about the blackmailer yet, about “Barbie” being the invention of some deranged hacker, wasn’t just to stave off another humiliation. It was so he could have a little bit more of this: his mom and dad adoring him the way they’d always adored Serena. He was even considering telling them how bitchy Bev and the cheerleaders were being when the spotlight suddenly shifted away to its usual owner.

“Sorry about that,” Serena said, waltzing inside. “Long call.” She slid into her seat. “Ooh, Mom, these smell delicious!”

“Well, thank you, sweetie,” their mom beamed. “Of course, Barbie helped.”

“That’s so cute!” Serena exclaimed. “You’re going to make a great little wife someday.”

Bobby flushed, but behind Serena’s jibe she seemed to be in a genuinely good mood -- which worried him even more.

“What was the call about?” their dad asked eagerly. “It wasn’t, by any chance…?”

Serena flashed her megawatt smile. “Jan Van Antwerp.”

Bobby’s mom dropped her fork, while his dad let out a small, uncharacteristic yelp of surprise. Both his parents launched into their follow-up questions simultaneously, while Bobby, for his part, had absolutely no idea what was going on. Serena held up her hands, and her parents fell silent.

“I had to call in a favor,” she said. “But it’s so worth it. I mean, I’d do anything to help kick start my little sister’s modelling career, you know? She has so much potential.”

“Wait, who’s Jam Van the Twerp?” Bobby demanded.

“Only one of the most sought-after fashion photographers in the world right now!” his mom exclaimed. “Oh, my God, sweetie, this is amazing. I didn’t think you were still in contact with him, after, um…” She trailed off abruptly, smile faltering, and to Bobby’s puzzlement he saw a brief flash of anger cross Serena’s face.

“Water under the bridge,” his older sister said, regaining her grin. “He can fly in next month. The thing is, he wants full creative control of the shoot. He’s very, very intrigued by Barbie’s story. You know, the whole ‘basketball star to blonde babe’ angle. I think he wants to work with that.”

“This is fantastic,” Bobby’s dad said. “I mean, of course he needs creative control. That’s a given. His name alone on this thing will catapult us into a huge contract. You sent him the shots we took?”

“He loved them,” Serena said. “Except, just one little, tiny thing.” She rolled her eyes with an innocent smile. “Okay, two little tiny things. He felt like the lingerie shots were a little, um, flat?”

“Well, Barbie’s still developing,” Bobby’s mom said. “They can give her a boost in post, can’t they?”

“In stills, sure,” Serena said. “But he wants to do video, as well.” She turned to Bobby with a wicked gleam in her eyes. “I saw you admiring our instructor’s boobs at barre class today,” she said. “It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, we girls all check each other out from time to time. I think you could definitely go for a C-cup, little sis.”

Bobby blanched. He stared at his parents for a moment, open-mouthed, waiting for them to step in and tell Serena she was crazy. His dad had a slightly pained expression on his face, but his mom, on the other hand, looked as if Serena had just suggested they all go for ice cream.

“Well, there is that little clinic in Casper,” his dad said slowly. “They’re small but they do terrific work, and very discreet…”

Bobby’s head was spinning. His dad couldn’t be serious. “Wait!” he squeaked. “Wait, what are we talking about? What kind of clinic? I’m already seeing a doctor for, um, hormones. Remember?”

“I know, sweetie, and that was very proactive of you,” his mom said. “But hormones can only do so much. Oh, this is so exciting!”

“Just one problem,” his dad sighed. “There’s no way we can get it done in time.” He waved his phone. “They’re booked solid for the next two weeks, and Barbie will need recovery time, too. This is Jan Van Antwerp, so it’s not like we can just ask him to reschedule.”

Bobby nearly fainted with relief, but it was short-lived.

“That’s a shame,” his mom tutted. “But you know, we could make an appointment for right afterwards? Just in case Jan Van Antwerp wants to work with her again.” She smiled into the distance with a dreamy expression on her face. “Barbie, you have no idea how lucky you are, sweetie.”

#

When Kimberly picked up Bobby’s call, her ex was so panicked she could barely make out what he was saying -- something about Antwerp, and definitely something about boobs. The overarching message was that she needed to get over to his house ASAP, which probably meant failing another biology quiz. But hey, she’d signed up for this when she decided to turn him into a blonde babe.

It was late by the time she got to Bobby’s place, but she could see an animated discussion going on in the living room window, apparently some kind of brainstorming session with Serena and her dad talking and her mom taking notes. Bobby opened the door looking like a deer in the headlights.

“What’s going on?” Kimberly asked.

“Upstairs,” Bobby said, gulping. “We can talk upstairs.”

He led the way, and she couldn’t help but notice that his walk was definitely “model material” now, with an exaggerated bounce in his hips that made his butt really wiggle. Kimberly didn’t think she would be able to handle the heels he was wearing without breaking her neck, but he tackled the stairs with no problems. As soon as they were inside his room with the door shut, her ex started babbling.

“They want me to get a freaking boob job, Kimmy!” he blurted. “My whole family, my own freaking dad, they want to make an appointment at this, this clinic, and it’s all because Serena knows this twerp guy, this Jam Vam Twerp whatever-his-name is, and he wants to shoot me, not with a gun, but like, with a camera, but I wish it was a freaking gun, because that would be better than getting a freaking boob job!”

Kimberly was a little stunned as she processed the information. Serena had just turned up the pressure in the biggest way possible, and she’d done it faster than Kimberly could have ever anticipated. Bobby was pacing up and down the length of his redecorated room, though the fact that he was still wearing his heels made it look a bit like he was practicing for a particularly frenzied catwalk. His arms were folded protectively across his chest and his pretty blue eyes were wide with panic.

“When?” she demanded. “When’s the shoot, when’s the appointment?”

“The shoot is in three weeks, and they want me to get the ‘procedure’ done right afterwards,” Bobby moaned. “I can’t do this anymore. I’m losing my freaking mind, Kimmy! You have no idea what this shit is like!”

Kimberly cleared some cosmetics off the bed and took a seat. “Okay,” she sighed. “This isn’t as bad as you think. She’s one hundred percent bluffing.”

“What do you mean?” Bobby demanded.

“She made the whole thing up,” Kimberly said, injecting confidence into her voice that she didn’t feel in the slightest. “Think about it. The absolute last thing she wants is to get shown up by you, right? There’s no way she would do all this wheeling and dealing to get you a shoot with some famous photographer if there was even the slightest chance you go through with it. You’re already overshadowing her career online, and this would blow you up even more.”

Bobby stopped pacing. “What, so she lied to our parents?”

“Has she never done that before?” Kimberly asked skeptically.

“Only all the time,” Bobby muttered. “So she’s just trying to scare me? You’re sure?”

“Absolutely sure,” Kimberly said. “She’s expecting you to completely panic, throw in the towel, and tell your parents you made ‘Barbie’ up for attention. Heck, she’s probably waiting for you to march downstairs right now.”

Bobby shook his head. “Even if the photo shoot is fake, my dad was talking to a real freaking surgeon on the phone, Kimmy,” he said. “All she has to do is be like, ‘Oops, the famous photographer with the dumb-ass name cancelled on us. Sorry, but Barbie can still get her boob job for next time, right?’ And then I’m screwed!”

“I’m not going to let that happen,” Kimberly said firmly, even though she was realizing, for the first time, just how badly she wanted to see her ex stuffing a pair of C-cups into his bra. “You’re taking those pills from Dr. Skito still, right? Those male hormones?”

“Yeah, but they haven’t done a freaking thing,” Bobby groaned. “You think in three weeks I’ll be, like, normal again? Unless…” He blinked. “What if we get Dr. Skito to tell the surgeon I’ve got a condition, or something? Like, say I’m allergic to silicone? That could work!”

Kimberly grimaced. There was no way Skeeter was going to be able to hold court with an actual medical professional, but if it calmed Bobby down, she would roll with it. “Exactly,” she said. “Dr. Skito will help us out. We have three weeks to figure it out, remember? I promise you’re not going to get a boob job.”

Bobby stared at the mirror for a second, then let out a huge sigh. “Okay,” he said. “But even if I don’t get a boob job, my life is still hell.” He glared at the bedroom door, as if he could shoot lasers down the hall into Serena’s room. “She baits me every chance she gets, and if I ever slip, like, if I ever do something not ‘Barbie’ enough, she’s there to pounce on it. So I have to keep up the act twenty-four-seven. It’s getting to me, Kimmy. And school...”

“I know,” Kimberly said, glad to see him getting distracted. “Bev can be a real bitch.”

“I thought we were friends, or whatever,” Bobby snapped. “Or at least, you know, I thought they weren’t psychotic back-stabbers. And I’m still supposed to hang out with them? It’s like hanging out with a bunch of sharks! In a volcano! I can’t let my guard down for one freaking second.”

“I don’t think sharks live in volcanoes,” Kimberly said.

“It’s a metaphor,” Bobby growled. “What I’m saying is, there’s nobody I can be myself around. Ever. Except you, Kimmy. And you’re still a chick.”

Bingo. Kimberly knew her number one focus now was outmaneuvering Serena and preventing a meltdown, but Bobby’s rising stress levels had just provided her the opening she and Josh had been waiting for. She couldn’t let it slide.

“I bet you miss your teammates, huh?” she asked, putting a sympathetic look on her face.

Bobby looked surprised for a moment, then actually sniffled. “You know what?” he muttered. “I really freaking do. I miss DeShawn, and Flash, and Chet, and I never thought I’d say it, but I even miss Kenny, and that dude was trash. He couldn’t get us a rebound to save his life. But now?” He gave an angry laugh. “Every single one of them treats me like ‘Barbie.’ Meaning, they’re either too weirded out to talk to me, or they can’t stop staring at my…” He swallowed, face turning red. “Boobs.”

“Come here,” Kimberly said, patting the space on the bed beside her. “Sit down. Take those shoes off, seriously.”

Bobby looked down at his peep-toe pumps and flushed again. “Serena says they have to stay on until I’m in bed,” he muttered.

Once Kimberly would have just been impressed by Serena’s control over her little brother, but after their little talk at barre class, she felt genuinely pissed off. “I say you can take them off,” she said, more sharply. “She’s not your freaking owner.”

Her ex was silent for a moment, then bent down and undid the ankle straps. Once he would have probably kicked them across the room, but now he carried them gracefully over to his closet and put them back in place amidst a dozen other pairs of equally treacherous high heels. Kimberly couldn’t help but notice that even barefoot, he still swayed his hips when he walked, in a distinctly feminine way.

“Just because your old teammates are creeps doesn’t mean all guys are,” Kimberly said, patting the spot on the bed beside her again. “I guarantee there’s somebody out there who will be willing to just hang out with you and talk about basketball.”

“Gay dudes don’t like basketball,” Bobby said glumly, smoothing his skirt beneath his butt to take a seat beside her.

Kimberly had to momentarily close her eyes at the power of her ex’s sheer ignorance. “Cocky, much?” she asked. “I hate to break it to you, Barbie, but not every straight guy is going to be into you, either. In fact, I was talking to someone the other day who said you were a seven, tops.”

Bobby straightened up. “A seven?” he demanded indignantly. “What was he, blind?” Realizing what he’d just said, her ex winced. “I mean, um, whatever. Sure. Seven. I don’t care. I don’t ever think about myself like… I mean, it’s not…” He was starting to stammer, blushing furiously. “It’s not like I care, I just…”

Kimberly took a moment to savor the concentrated embarrassment. Bobby, whether he was willing to admit it or not, was beginning to internalize the message all girls got beat over the head with since youth: all that mattered about you was how pretty you were. Now that he couldn’t rely on his basketball heroics to win him admirers, and now that his parents’ affection was tied into turning him into a fashion model, beauty was Bobby’s biggest asset -- maybe his only asset -- and he knew it.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Kimberly said. “Look, I know this is week was stressful.” She grabbed his feet, taking a moment to admire the pedicure, then put them in her lap and started to gently massage them. It was something she’d done occasionally when they dated, and sure enough, she could see the stress seeping out of her ex’s pretty face.

“Understatement of the freaking century,” Bobby muttered.

“Let’s unwind tomorrow night,” Kimberly said. “Find a house party or something. You can come over to my place early to get ready, and it’ll give you a break from Serena. No bootcamp on Saturday, right? So you can forget about all this stuff for a little while.”

Bobby looked dubious for a moment, then sighed. “Man, I miss house parties,” he admitted grudgingly. “I haven’t been to one in ages.”

“Then we’ll find one,” Kimberly said firmly, moving her ex’s feet off her lap. “I’ll start asking around right now. Hey, can I borrow that new dress your mom bought you?”

“Better you than me,” Bobby said darkly, getting up and heading towards the closet. “You mean the blue one with the ruffles? Or the pink-and-white halter?”

Kimberly took advantage of his absence to scroll through her phone contacts and message Josh Delacroix -- for anonymity’s sake, she had him saved as “Phone Repair Guy.”

Serena was her new priority, but that didn’t mean Kimberly was tossing aside her goal of turning Bobby into Josh’s own personal cheerleader. And if things went according to plan, Bobby would feel like he had another ally against his sister, which would make it easier to keep him in the game.

Hey lover-boy, I think it might actually be time to make your move, she tapped out. Up for a house party tomorrow night?