Bastard

by J. L. Perry

  BASTARD

  J. L. Perry

  BASTARD

  Copyright © 2015 J. L. Perry

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the produce of the author’s imagination or used factitiously. Any resemblance to the actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Soxational Cover Art.

  Editing by Nicola Rhead of Nicola Rhead Editing

  Formatted by Max Henry of Max Effect

  ISBN: 0992529093

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9925290-9-3

  BOOKS BY J. L. PERRY

  Destiny Series.

  My Destiny – Book 1

  My Forever – Book 2

  Damaged – Jacinta’s Story – Book 3

  Against All Odds – Angel’s Story – Book 4

  Standalone Reads

  Bastard

  Nineteen Letters (Coming soon)

  A note from the Author.

  Warning - this book contains sexual content, coarse language and some violence. It is recommended for persons over the age of 18.

  This book is dedicated to

  my best friend, my sister, Kylie …

  Thank you for always having my back,

  Always being there for me when I need you,

  And for loving me unconditionally.

  I love you more than words could ever convey.

  I’d be lost without you.

  CONTENTS

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Part Two

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Epilogue

  Snippet of Nineteen Letters

  Acknowledgements

  Contact J.L. Perry

  She believed she could, so she did.

  PROLOGUE

  The Past …

  Carter

  Reaching out, my mum wraps her long, dainty fingers around my small hand. “Jump, baby.” She smiles as I launch from the bottom step off the bus, landing on the sidewalk. We both laugh. I love my mum. She’s fun.

  “Brrrrrr, it’s cold today,” she says.

  Looking up, I find her shivering. I smile at her as she zips up her coat to keep warm. Digging through her bag, she takes out my favourite Spiderman beanie and scarf, holding them up for me to see.

  “Put these on, sweetie,” she says smiling as she crouches down in front of me, placing my beanie on my head and wrapping the scarf around my neck. “Let me get your gloves,” she adds, reaching into her bag again. “I can’t have my little man getting sick.” I stand and watch as she pushes my small fingers into my blue gloves, one by one. “There, all snug.”

  “Snug as a bug in a rug,” I add. This is something she says to me every night when she tucks me into bed.

  “That’s right, baby,” she says leaning forward, giving me a soft kiss on my nose. Rising to her feet she reaches for my hand. “Come on.”

  As we walk down the street, my eyes take everything in. I don’t think I’ve ever been here before. There are shops on one side of the street, and big houses on the other. “Where are we, Mummy?” I ask while looking around. The loud roar of a motorbike passing makes me jump.

  “This is my hometown. I grew up here.” I look up at her. Wow. Mummy lived somewhere else before our home?

  She gazes down at me, but she looks sad. “You lived here when you were little, like me?” I ask.

  “Uh huh. This is where your grandparents live.”

  “I have a grandma and grandpa?” I didn’t know that either. I feel my eyes widen and I smile. I hear the kids at school talk about their grandparents all the time. I’ve always wondered why I didn’t have any of my own.

  I’ve never asked my mum why. Once I asked her how come I didn’t have a daddy like the other kids, and it made her cry. I don’t like seeing my mummy cry.

  “I’m taking you to meet them now. They’ve never met you before.” I’m getting so excited, like I did a few weeks ago when I turned five, and my mummy bought me a big chocolate cake. My friend, Josh, was allowed to come over. He even bought me a present. Nobody but my mummy has ever bought me a present before. I met Josh’s grandparents once, when I was playing at his house. They were really nice. I hope my grandparents are like his.

  I start jumping along because I’m so happy. Mummy stops in front of a big, white house. It’s really, really big, like the houses you see in movies. It’s so much bigger than where mummy and me live.

  My mum’s hand starts shaking as she holds mine. I look at her. She looks mad, like the time I drew on the wall at home. Her eyes are doing funny things.

  “Your hands are shaking, Mummy.”

  “I’m okay little man, I’m just cold.” She looks down at me and smiles. Her eyes look happy when she looks at me.

  “Do you want to borrow my gloves?”

  “No, baby,” she says as her smile widens. She crouches down, placing her hands on either side of my face. “No matter what happens when we go in here, just remember how much I love you, and how special you are.”

  “Okay,” I say. I love my mummy. I know I’m going to love my grandparents too.

  “Good boy.” She leans forward and kisses my cheek before standing up and reaching for my hand again. “Let’s do this.”

  As we walk down the long driveway, my mum’s hand continues to shake. I wish she’d put my gloves on. I hate how she’s cold.

  “One … two … three … four … five.” I count the stairs in my head as we climb them before we stop in front of the big yellow door. I hear my mum let out a big breath. Letting go of my hand, she makes a fist as she raises her arm, but she stops mid-air. Looking down at me, her lips turn up before finally knocking on the door. I can’t wait to see my grandparents. I hope they have chocolate. I love chocolate.

  Reaching for my hand, she gives it a squeeze. When the door opens, I look up at the man who stands there. He doesn’t look happy when he sees mummy.

  “Elizabeth,” he says sternly.

  “Hi, Daddy,” she replies nervously. He relaxes when mummy says that. The co
rners of his mouth turn up slightly. I feel my own big smile. Wow, this must be my grandpa. He looks so strong.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks.

  My mum doesn’t say anything for what feels like one hundred years. “I wanted to see you. I … ummm, wanted you to meet your grandson, Carter.” She gives my hand another squeeze as she looks down at me.

  “Hello, Grandpa,” I say. I’m seeing my very own grandpa. I want to hug him.

  He looks angry again as he stares down at me. Then his head snaps back up to look at my mummy. “Why did you bring that little bastard here?” he asks really, really meanly. “Get him out of here. Don’t you ever bring him here again.” Stepping back, he slams the door in our faces.

  My mum makes a strange sound and I feel like crying. I’m sad because my mummy is sad. She only makes that noise when she’s upset. I don’t like my grandpa. He’s mean. “Come on, baby,” she says. When her eyes meet mine, I see her tears are already falling. I don’t like seeing my mummy cry.

  I’m almost running behind her as she tugs on my hand. She hurries down the driveway and back out into the street. “What’s a bastard?” I ask. I’ve never heard that word before. The way my grandpa said it, it doesn’t sound like a nice word.

  My question stops her walking. Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she squats down in front of me. “You’re not a bastard,” she says sadly. “Pay no attention to what he said. You’re a beautiful boy.” She gives me a kiss on my forehead. “I’m sorry I brought you here.”

  “It’s okay, Mummy,” I say trying real hard to be brave. When my bottom lip starts to quiver and the first tears fall, I know I’ve failed. I’m not brave.

  “Oh, baby.” She opens her arms, pulling me tightly against her as I cry into her chest. “You’re not a bastard,” she whispers.

  I want to believe her, I do, but why would grandpa say it if it’s not true? I hate that I’m a bastard. Even though I don’t know what it means, I know that this moment and that horrible word are going to stick with me for a long time. Maybe even the rest of my life.

  ••••

  bas·tard

  1. Offensive A person born to parents not married to each other.

  2. Slang

  a. A person considered to be mean or contemptible.

  b. A person, especially one considered to be unfortunate.

  3. Something that is of irregular, inferior, or dubious origin.

  It’s funny how one fleeting moment in time can change you. One stupid, crazy, fucked-up word can define you. I didn’t know it at the time, but after that day things changed—I changed. I was only five years old the day I learnt I was a bastard, and sadly as the years progressed, that’s exactly what I became.

  PART

  ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Present …

  Carter

  Packing the last of the boxes into the trunk of the car, I turn and take one final look at the only place I’ve ever called home. The place I’ve lived for the last seventeen years of my life. Sure it’s just a shitty old apartment block, but it’s my home. It’s all I’ve ever known. I’m fucking pissed they’re forcing me to leave here. I’ve been dreading this day. I hate that I’m going to have to live with that fuckwit my mum now calls her husband.

  Thank God it’s only for six months. That’s when I’ll be turning eighteen; finally becoming a legal adult. You can be sure as hell the first thing I do, is blow this godforsaken place. My mum has that cocksucker to look after her now. She doesn’t need me anymore.

  She started dating John Shepard six months ago. It was a whirlwind romance you could say. I guess she’s been alone since I was born, so I can’t really blame her for wanting a companion. It’s always been just the two of us. At first I kind of liked the idea of having a father figure around, but my hopes were soon dashed when I got to know Fuckwit. That’s my pet name for him. It suits him perfectly.

  I saw the difference in her when she’d come home from being out with him. She was happier. Lighter. Like she was floating or some shit. I liked seeing her like that. She deserved happiness.

  They’d been seeing each other for a few months before she brought him to the house to meet me. I was on my best behaviour the first time we met. I did it for her. He was very pleasant until she left the room for a few minutes to get us some drinks. The way he looked me up and down with disdain instantly had my suspicions rising. As time wore on, those looks turned into hateful remarks. In the beginning I’d done nothing to provoke them. I guess he just took a disliking to me for some reason. Maybe because I was a bastard. Who knows? I was used to rejection. I’d faced it my whole life.

  My mum’s love has always been unconditional. Even when I acted up, she still loved me, still cared. I’ll be forever grateful for that. She’s been through a lot with me over the years, but her feelings for me never wavered. Not once. I was nothing to Fuckwit, I guess. Just a thorn in his side. Someone standing in the way of him being with my mother.

  I was shattered when he proposed and she accepted, but I didn’t let her know that’s how I felt. I wasn’t about to burst her bubble. She deserved happiness after all the sacrifices she’d made for me over the years. I wasn’t about to stand in her way.

  The day he finally put the ring on her finger was the same day he made his true feelings for me be known. They had some lame-arse civil ceremony at the registry office. It was my mum’s first marriage. She deserved so much more than that. I didn’t even want to attend, but she wanted me there, so for her sake I had to grin and bear it.

  Afterwards, the three of us were heading to a nice restaurant for a celebratory lunch. Well, they were celebrating. I sure as hell wasn’t. My mum asked Fuckwit to stop off at the local patisserie so she could buy a nice cake to take with us. The minute she was out of the car he gave me a hateful look through the revision mirror.

  “I love your mother,” he told me. “But don’t think for a minute that any of that affection extends to you, because it doesn’t. In my eyes, you’re the unwelcomed part of the package.” I hate to admit it, but his hurtful words stung. It only served to make me feel even lower about myself.

  Why was I such a hard person to love?

  Before I get a chance to close the trunk, my stepfather leans out of the driver’s side window. “Hurry up, son. I haven’t got all day,” he sneers in a sarcastic tone. I swear he does shit like this to bait me. My head snaps in his direction.

  “I’m not your son. You best remember that, old man,” I retort, my eyes narrowing. “If you got off your arse and helped instead of sitting there barking orders at me all afternoon, we would’ve finished hours ago.”

  Throwing back his head, he laughs at my comment. He acts so sweet in front of my mum. She falls for his pathetic shit all the time. Truth is, he’s a fake-arse prick. As soon as my mum’s back is turned he treats me like dirt. She might love him, but I don’t. I fucking hate him. This is going to be the longest six months of my life.

  Slamming the trunk shut, I make my way around to the passenger side of the car. “Wipe your damn feet before you get in the car,” he barks. I swear if there were some dog shit nearby right now, I’d tread in it just to spite him.

  Sighing, I do as he asks before seating myself in the passenger side. “Prick,” I mumble under my breath.

  “Watch that smart mouth of yours, boy. I won’t tolerate you speaking like that in my house, and especially in front of your mother.” I’d never speak like that to my mum. Him though, that’s a whole other story.

  Ignoring him I turn my head, gazing out the window, taking one last look at my home as he backs out of the drive. Christ, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours and I already want to punch him.

  Not a word is spoken on the drive to his place. I’m thankful for that. My stomach is in knots. Living with this arsehole is going to be pure fucking hell. I have no idea what my mother sees in him, but surprisingly he makes her happy. That’s the only reason I’m going along with
this bullshit. I’m doing it for her, no other reason. After everything she has sacrificed for me she deserves to be happy.

  It’s about an hour’s drive from my old neighbourhood to the gates of hell. Fuck, I need a cigarette. As soon as we pull into the street I’ll now be calling home, my heart rate picks up. The street is lined with perfect houses, with perfect lawns and fancy manicured gardens.

  I hate it here already.

  “This is your new home, my home. Remember that,” Fuckwit says when we pull into the driveway.

  “Whoop-de-fucking-do,” I reply as I exit the car before he has a chance to say another word. I make my way around to the back of the vehicle to unpack the boxes. Of course that lazy fucker heads straight inside. I guess I’ll be doing all the work again.

  Figures.

  As I go to open the trunk, I’m stopped when I hear laughter. Pure, sweet, sickening laughter. My head snaps in the direction it came from, and that’s when I see her. Well actually, the first thing I see is her tight little arse. She’s bending over patting a dog, wearing these sexy little shorts. Tearing my eyes away from her, they land on the dog. It’s a long-haired German Shepherd.

  The perfect dog.

  Growing up I always wanted a dog like that, but living in an apartment building that didn’t allow animals made it impossible.

  When the girl stands up straight my eyes move up to her long, dark hair that now cascades down her lean back. The sun’s beaming down on it, illuminating its shine. I find myself wishing she’d turn around so I can see her face. She doesn’t, so my gaze moves back down to her arse. Fuck me, what an arse.

  Images of me wrapping her hair around my wrist as I bend her over, pounding her from behind enter my mind. It makes my dick stir. Jesus, why did I let my thoughts go there? Her body might be rockin’, but that doesn’t mean her face is. I guess, if I was giving it to her from behind, that wouldn’t really be a problem anyway.

  I watch as she raises her arm, throwing the ball across the yard. She’s got a pretty good throw for a girl. The dog turns, galloping towards it. When he makes his way back he almost bowls her over in his excitement. She starts to laugh again, and I feel the corners of my lips turn up in a smile as I watch them.