Instead of going inside the house, I hug Anne and Robert outside the front door with a promise to show up for dinner later that evening. Anne wants me to come in and tell her more about New York, but I tell her I’m tired. She seems to understand.
As I’m walking to my Highlander that I parked here while I was gone, Spider calls out to me. I turn and watch him stalk toward me.
“Yeah? What is it?” I say sharply as I toss my backpack in the car, ready to get away and process all the crazy stuff that’s happened today.
He shifts from one foot to the next. “I-I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. Again.”
I stiffen, needing more than just an apology from him, but I don’t know what that is. The level of emotion he brings out in me surprises me. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over and done. Now we have to get along.” My lips twist. “Like you said, nothing was going to happen between us anyway, right?”
“Right. Especially since you’re underage.” He emphasizes the last word and I flush.
“You have no right to judge,” I say.
He sticks his hands in his pockets and grimaces. “I know. You have every right to hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. I could never hate you.”
I don’t know why that’s true with him, but it is. Maybe it’s because I can sense there’s more under the surface with him. He’s got issues, and I can relate to that with my background. I glance over his shoulder to see Robert is still at the door, watching us with a contemplative look on his face.
My anger eases more as I move my eyes from his dad to him. I suspect something awful happened between those two. “What’s up with your dad?”
I don’t miss that Spider’s shoulders square as if he’s preparing for battle. “We don’t get along.”
“Then why are you here?”
He pauses. “I haven’t seen him in six months, and he wanted me to clock in and meet the new family. So, here I am.” He holds his hands out and smirks.
There’s more to this story, but I don’t push it. Yet.
He tosses a look over his shoulder at Robert and I see an almost imperceptible nod he gives him as if saying, I see you and I’m coming.
“See you later, Rose.”
He sends me one final look and then he’s striding down the driveway toward the house.
I watch until he’s at the door with Robert, taking in the good two feet of space they keep between their bodies, a telltale sign of tension. I notice that Robert’s face is more somber than usual, as if Spider has done something he disapproves of.
I file it all away and plan to figure it out later.
Right now, I’m ready to get out of here, so I hop in my car and hightail it back to the dorms at Claremont, about ten minutes away.
On the drive over, I focus on the next few weeks and the studying I need to do before graduation. I’m in all honors classes, and I do my best to stay at the top. Granny is always on my mind, and it encourages me to think about how proud she’d be that I’m going to make something of myself.
A staccato knock hits my door after an hour of being back, and I fling open the door to see my two best friends. Dressed in a leather skirt and an off-the-shoulder denim blouse, Lexa enters the room like she owns the place. We’ve been inseparable since freshman year when we both ended up in the same horrible tennis class where neither of us could hit a decent volley. Like me, she lives in student housing since her family lives in Atlanta. Unlike me, she was brought up with a silver spoon in her mouth, but she’s nice anyway.
Her mouth widens. “Oh my God, I’m so freaking glad you’re back! This dump has been D-E-A-D for spring break. I didn’t have anyone to talk to!”
“You had me, but apparently I’m not good enough!” Oscar says offhandedly as he flies in the door right behind her, rather dramatically, the long coattails from his black leather duster flapping. His mop of brown curls bobs as he grabs me and air-kisses both of my cheeks. “God, I’ve missed you. By the way, Lexa is a little bitch when you aren’t here to keep her sane. How was New York? Did you see any models? Actors? Anyone? God, this city sucks. Let’s move to New York and live in a loft together—like on Friends.”
I giggle at his barrage of questions.
A scholarship student from a small rural town outside of Dallas, he’s my oldest friend at Claremont Prep. In fact, we met the moment I walked in the office on my first day to pick up my schedule. He took one look at my no doubt terrified face and immediately offered to show me around campus. We bonded over our love for fashion and great literature. I don’t know what I’d do without him. He’s my tribe, and our dream is to live together in New York.
Oscar grins. “Did you fall in love with the campus? Does Anne know how bad you want to move? Will she let you leave the state of Texas?”
Lexa opens her compact and reapplies her already perfect lipstick. “We all know the answer to that one—no. Anne wants you right here so she can show you off as the girl she saved from the streets. You’re her little prize.”
“That’s mean,” Oscar says as he throws a pillow at her. “I’m taking Lexa off our prayer list, Rose.”
I shake my head and grin. “What prayer list?”
He lifts his hands. “The one I’m going to start for all the people who need prayers around here.”
I giggle. Man, I missed him.
Lexa ignores Oscar, still focusing on Anne. “She literally made you the poster girl at her charity gala last year when she put you on a poster. You gave a speech about the inner city and everything. She’s molding you to be a mini-Anne. You already dress how she wants.” She waves her hands at my outfit.
I grimace at Lexa’s words. I’m not a mini-Anne. I’m just me. Yes, Anne likes to take me to her charity events and show me off because I’m a success story, but she also pays for me to take self-defense classes because it makes me feel more secure. I owe her.
I look at Lexa, taking in the expensive clothes and the Louis Vuitton she casually tossed on my bed when she arrived. She doesn’t get it because she’s never had to worry about where her next meal might come from. I have. “Some of those kids come from horrible situations, and if I can be a reason someone contributes…then I’ll do my part.”
Her face softens as she looks at me. “Gah, I am so sorry. You must think I’m an awful person. Of course, you want to help those kids. It’s who you are.” She waves her hands. “I’m just anxious for you because I know how much you want to go to NYU—and she isn’t going to let you.”
I bite my lip. I don’t want to think about that right now.
Oscar tosses a long arm around my shoulder and squeezes. “Ignore Lexa—she’s on her period. Just tell us all the juicy bits about your trip.”
So I do. I tell them about Spider—from the club last night, to the kiss, to the flight attendant, and then the stepbrother bomb.
There is a brief, wide-eyed silence before Oscar explodes. “You kissed a random dude on a plane? How did you not barf on him? I thought you hated flying?”
“I do.”
He spins in a circle, clearly excited. “Oh my God, you like your stepbrother. It’s so…twisted.” He rubs his hands together. “It’s like that movie Clueless where the heroine has the hots for her stepbrother. I love it.”
“I don’t like him,” I declare, but it feels wrong to say that, and I inhale a deep breath. “And have you forgotten the part where he screws the girl in the bathroom? You should be angry with him on my behalf.”
“True…and I am.” He pulls out his phone. “But right now, I gotta see this guy for myself.”
“And you’re going to see him tonight at dinner?” Lexa asks. “Maybe you can use your appetizer fork to poke his eyeballs out.” Her heavily lashed eyes are dead serious.
“You’re scary,” Oscar comments as he scrolls on his phone.
She thinks about it, a little glint in her gaze. “But seriously…here’s an idea: maybe you should go after this bad boy and then pull a whammy on him and break
his heart.” She nods. “Yeah, I like that much better. Less blood and guts on the dinner plate.”
“Hmmm, maybe.” The idea does intrigue me. “I don’t think he has a heart to break though.”
Oscar holds up a triumphant pic of him along with members of his band, who I recognize from the show at the bar. “Holy shit, Sherlock, this dude’s gorgeous.” He scrolls down. “I’m on the band’s Facebook page, and let me tell ya, he is sex-ay.”
Lexa smirks. “Stop saying sex-ay. You’re not going to make it a thing, not here at Claremont, not in Dallas, and not in New York.”
He flips her off, and she giggles.
I look at Oscar. “Speaking of New York…did you hear back about your scholarship to NYU?”
“I’ve been accepted, of course, but I don’t know about the scholarship...” His voice trails off, and I hear the worry there. He’s at Claremont on a full ride because he’s super smart, but NYU rarely gives full rides, and without the financial aid the scholarship would provide—he can’t go. He should have heard something by now, and I’m holding out that he gets one.
He plucks at a string on his jacket. “I can always go to UT. They’ll take me.” His voice is uncharacteristically subdued.
I exhale, taking in his pensive face. He wants out of Texas as much as I do. I’m running to get away from my past, and he’s running from a dysfunctional family that looks down on him for being gay.
“We’ll get there…together,” I say to him. “Somehow.”
Oscar shrugs and I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it. He looks at the picture of Spider again. “I can’t believe you locked lips with this piece of deliciousness. Did you die?”
I shake my head at him and laugh. “No. I’m quite alive.”
I can’t help but lean over and study the group photo and get a peek inside Spider’s life. In the picture, he’s standing in the middle of his friends on a beach with a drink up in the air as if he’s toasting. Wearing a Union Jack hat and a pair of athletic shorts, he’s shirtless, his broad chest tan and muscled. He looks hot. It reminds me of him stalking around the stage in his mink coat. Unbidden, a small smile grows on my face. Something about him…even though I’m angry with him…calls to me.
I ignore it and forge on.
“He likes to be the center of everything,” I say.
“He can get in my center any time,” Lexa chimes in as she leans over my shoulder.
Oscar cocks his head, not looking too sure. “If you do decide to break his heart like Lexa said, you better be careful with this one. Those eyes…”
Tell me about it.
Lexa snorts. “You just want him for yourself.”
“I want everyone, sweetie.” He tosses his scarf around his neck and poses.
I laugh as I get up and open my closet. “I’m the one who has to have dinner with him tonight.”
Oscar jumps and peers inside, rummaging through the hangers. “If you’re seeing the hottie, then wear this!” He pulls out a silky red dress, one he and I found at a secondhand store downtown. With spaghetti straps and a keyhole in the back, it’s short and flirty and not Anne approved. I adore it. “It’s cut up to your butt crack and he won’t be able to stop looking at those long legs of yours. Pair it with those silver knock-off Jimmy Choos I found.” He kisses his fingertips. “Perfection.”
“I’m wearing my hair in a ponytail, old jeans, and flip-flops. I’m not even going to brush my hair, or my teeth.” I’m teasing, of course, but I love to see their faces.
Lexa giggles. “Anne will die.”
Oscar’s face is theatrically devastated. “Please, Rose. He’s a potential rock star. Impress him, then break his heart.”
“Nope.”
Lexa ignores my comment and rises up from the bed where she plopped down earlier and begins rummaging through my underwear drawer. “You need a thong for that dress.”
I laugh. “I’m not wearing that stupid dress to dinner. That’s enough from both of you. I need to finish up this assignment before Monday, plus I have a paper to work on.”
They grumble but comply. Lexa mutters something about hitting the mall, and Oscar says he has plans to see a movie. Eventually, I get them out the door and focus back on my studies, but every few minutes, I sneak a look over at the red dress Oscar hung on the outside of my closet.
A little spike of excitement goes through me as I imagine Spider seeing me in it.
But then there’s Anne. She won’t like it.
A small part of me doesn’t care. Maybe it’s because of the mini-Anne comment or maybe it’s because I know that Spider is attracted to me and I want him to suffer as I sit across from him at dinner.
Yes, a little voice whispers in my head. Wear it. Mess with the bad boy.
6
Spider
“The first rule of this house is you cannot, I repeat, you cannot fool around with Rose.” Waving his hands around, he continues, “We all know about your…reputation with women, but she’s your stepsister and has a bright future ahead of her.” My father’s tone is sharp as nails as I sit across from him in a hard chair in his study. We came in here as soon as we arrived from the airport.
Rose. I blow out a breath as regret eats at me over what happened on the plane.
No doubt he saw the way I looked at her.
“I saw how you were looking at her. She’s too young for you, so don’t get any ideas.”
I raise a brow. “I’m not getting ideas.” But I’m lying to him. Rose fascinates me. She’s beautiful and sweet—
I cut those thoughts off.
She’s done with me, and I don’t blame her one bit.
She should be angry with me. She doesn’t deserve someone as fucked up as I am.
I stuff thoughts of her in a box, put a chain around it, and toss it in a dark corner of my mind.
I’ll forget about her, I tell myself.
After all, pushing people away is something I learned well from my father.
Tall and imposing with broad shoulders and a face made of granite, he’s a man who slams doors, speaks curtly, and gets shit done—no matter the cost.
He’s nothing like Mum, who is sunshine and light, but then at least he stuck around a little. Six months after Cate died, she was out the door with a new lover in tow. I still see her from time to time, in between boyfriends and vacations in exotic places. Our relationship is…sticky. I think it’s hard for her to see me and not think of Cate. On the other hand, it’s hard for me to see Mum and not think of her leaving me.
Father’s voice brings me back to the present. “Secondly, no drugs around Anne and Rose. It won’t be tolerated.”
My eyes find his and I exhale, my fingers twitchy as I drum them on my jeans. “With all these rules, I’m surprised you even invited me.”
He lets out a deep breath. “Believe it or not, I want you to be part of my new family. We haven’t seen each other in months.”
My lips tighten. “Six to be precise.”
Which is not unusual. When we first moved to the US, I barely saw him at all. He tucked me away in an exclusive boarding school called Briarwood and pretended I didn’t exist. I was a mixed up thirteen-year-old kid then, fresh from Cate dying and Mum leaving, yet he went on about his life as if nothing had happened.
I’m sure he sees that entire part of our lives differently, but I don’t. He deserted me when I needed him the most.
He gets up and pours himself a Scotch and sits back down at his desk. “Look, I just want you to hang around Dallas for a few days and get to know Anne. I also want to make sure you’re…okay. I hope you’re clean, Clarence. You don’t want to go back to rehab.”
My hands clench, remembering the two months I spent at a “spa” in Northern California a few years ago. “I don’t have a drug problem. I’ve never been better.” Lies. All lies. But I don’t care. I’m irritable and crashing from before, and I just want to end this conversation. I need a fucking bump. My fingers rub my ring. Maybe I can sneak
off to one of the bathrooms upstairs...
I refocus as I feel Father studying me, searching for signs of me using. “I’m fine,” I say, my tone sharp.
He swallows and nods his head. “Okay. You’re welcome to stay here or at the penthouse I have in the city.”
I nod. “I’ll take the penthouse.”
“Fine,” he says, and I don’t miss the look of relief on his face. The thing is, he probably does want me here to meet his new wife and to check on me, but I do make him uncomfortable. Staying at the penthouse is easier on everyone.
I clear my throat. “You mentioned a monetary gift? An early inheritance, perhaps?” When he called to invite me, he said he’d make it worth my time, and I assumed that’s what he meant. I study him, searching for answers.
“Of course.” He takes a drag from his Scotch, and I eye it enviously.
I fold my hands in my lap. “How much money are we talking?”
He’s never given me anything. I’m not a trust fund baby. Sure, he paid for my boarding school and expenses, but once he figured out I wasn’t going to college, my Amex card was canceled. I’ve been supporting myself for the past five years. He called it tough love; I called it an arsehole who wanted to control my life. Maybe he’s right—maybe I should get a degree—but music is what I crave. It’s my skin, my fucking everything. I can’t breathe without it.
He taps a pen on the mahogany desk. “You mentioned moving to LA with the band. I imagine the expenses are high there if you want to fit in with the right crowd. I’ll do a hundred thousand.”
Holy shit. I try to keep the surprise from showing on my face. I expected maybe ten or twenty if he was feeling magnanimous. Frankly, I’m surprised he’s even offering me anything. I mean, I would have come anyway...eventually. He’s my father, and I still crave his approval after all these years.
Is it possible he’s trying to make amends?
He sighs and leans back in his leather chair, a tired expression flitting across his face. Lines feather out from his eyes, and I see that his hair has thinned considerably since the last time I saw him.
British Bad Boys: Box Set Page 50