My heart sinks to the ground. I’ve texted Amber a few times this week. Though she responded, her messages were clipped, using work, exhaustion, and something as fucking lame as laundry as excuses to jet. I even ran into her on campus, but her usual wiseassery and quips were missing. She felt distant, almost embarrassed to be in my presence. I can’t blame her for hating me. Disgusted with myself, I’ve come to realize that her finding out what Brock and I did with Hailey was too much for her to swallow.
Apparently, the second Amber started dating Brock, Hailey’s had it out for her. From snide little remarks in front of an entire frat party to leaving threatening letters under Amber’s door, Hailey’s mentally steamrolled over the girl. Other than her attempting to run Amber off the road—because that’s when Amber finally said something to Brock—I didn’t find out any of the shit the nut was doing to Amber until last weekend. Had I known a morsel of what was going on, I would’ve been done with the psycho long before.
Picture now clear, it’s pretty simple: Hailey’s jealous of Amber. Like a fiend, she couldn’t get enough of Brock and me fucking her. Other than mastering a deep-throat blow job, begging for double penetration became her expertise.
But once Amber stumbled into the picture, Brock cut off Hailey from not only the free coke he was supplying her but also his dick. Once I got rid of her too, her hatred for Amber intensified, morphing out of control.
Hailey catching a beating from Amber last weekend was long overdue.
“Oh!” Casey hops out of my hold, breaking me from my thoughts. She snatches my hand and drags me down the hall to her bedroom. “I have something to show you!”
Jesus. They’ve painted again. It looks like a bottle of Pepto-Bismol threw up all over her walls.
“Come see the new clothes Mom bought for me,” she squeaks, pulling me toward her closet. “You know I’m in third grade this year, right? In a few years, I’ll be a preteen. Then a few years after that, I get to date boys like you!”
That freezes my feet.
I kneel and reach for her shoulders, steadying her excitement. “Case.”
She nods, her blue eyes twinkling with innocence.
“One: I’ve been working. That’s why I didn’t come over last week. I’m gonna be busy for the next few months, so it might be hard for me to stop by every day, all right?”
She frowns as she nods again.
“Two: Amber’s not my girlfriend. She’s just . . . a buddy. I don’t have a girlfriend. Never count on any nieces or nephews from me.” I chuckle, taking in her cute little pout. I need to fix this. “Three: I’m excited to see your new clothes. I bet you look like a princess in them.”
That statement erases the pout, a megawatt smile replacing it.
“Four: You’re not now, nor will you ever be, a preteen. I’ve created a potion that’s going to keep you eight years old forever. All of the boys you’re not going to date will also never, ever reach puberty.”
Shit, the frown’s back. I suck ass.
A laugh wrinkles my grandmother’s nose, her caramel eyes dancing with joy as she enters the bedroom. “Pay him no mind, Case. Your brother’s just being overprotective. Right, Ry?”
I stand, caging my grandmother in a bear hug. “Umm, that would be a big, fat, sloppy no. Her chastity belt’s in the back of my car.” I flash my pearly whites. “It’s called a bat to the head, courtesy of her older brother.”
“You bought me a belt?” Casey’s excitement colors her voice. “I like belts!”
I swish my hand over her peach fuzz. “Sorry, kiddo. No belt.”
She lets out a huff, climbs up onto her bunk bed, and crosses her arms. “No fun, Ryder.”
I swipe a teddy bear from her dresser and toss it onto her lap. “Next time I come over, I’ll bring you one, deal?”
She chucks said teddy bear at my head. “Promise?”
At least she didn’t smack my dimpled cheek.
“Cross it.” I draw an X over my heart.
Amusement sparkles in my grandmother’s eyes as she laces her soft hand in mine. “Come on, overprotective brother. Let me feed you while Casey gets dolled up in one of her outfits.”
I leave my sister to get prettied up and follow my grandmother into the kitchen, my stomach growling as I drop into a chair at the island. It doesn’t take long before I have her infamous chicken cutlet parmesan plated up before me.
It also doesn’t take long before my burner cell goes off, flashing Brock’s number. I send it to voice mail and tuck it into my pocket. My grandmother’s smile—as she waits for me to take my first bite—takes precedence over whatever shit he wants.
The fucker can wait.
“So, how’s school going?” she asks as I sink my teeth into generation upon generation of practiced perfection. “Only one year left.”
I nod, thinking about her statement. I’ve focused and sacrificed for the last five years, working toward my MBA in banking and financing. There’s no doubt I’m ready to finish school. Amped, I’m more than eager to join the rest of the scum-sucking investors in corporate America. The industry’s hostile, fierce, and competitive. It’s a perfect storm that’ll suit my fast-paced lifestyle, intense love of money, and quick-talking personality.
“I’m hanging in there,” I answer, chewing. Before I can take my next bite, my burner goes off again. I pull it from my pocket and scan a text from Brock.
Monthly pickup. Meet me at my place by 3. Don’t be late.