by Tara Brown
I shake my head. “No. No thanks.” The daughter of Lars Webber doesn’t do support groups, not unless it’s a private session. “I have a shrink.”
Este snorts. “And he works wonders on your freaky ass.” She takes the card from the cop. “We will take the card in case she gets all wrist cutter on me. I know how you white girls get.” She helps me up from the chair.
I look at the cop. “I don’t cut. I don’t know what she’s talking about.” But the cop just drinks some of her coffee and shakes her head.
When I turn to leave, I see the eyes of the man I trust more than anyone in the whole world gazing back at me through the window. His dark stare doesn’t have the usual blend of joyous sarcasm and mockery. He swallows hard as his brow knits together.
Este helps me to the door but my body is on fire. It makes me wince and makes Henry move faster to me. He puts an arm out for me. “I’ve hired a private investigator at your father’s behest, and there is a spa readying a treatment room for you.”
The cop stares at us, mouth agape. “You weren’t kidding about not needing the group.”
I glance back at her and nod. “Thanks for everything.” Though I’m not sure what she did exactly. Cops are so lazy.
One of my father’s lawyer friends comes strolling into the office. He places his hand on my arm. “You okay?”
I nod.
He pats my burns. “We’ll take care of this for you.”
He doesn’t notice when I wince. He’s got the usual paperwork for the cop to sign. Everyone signs them.
Este gives me a look. “You got room at the inn for one more?” I can see her mockery has a touch of worry to it too.
“Yeah. I’d love some company while I soak my burns.”
She winks. “And get your talons sharpened?” She makes me laugh—thank God for that because if I didn’t laugh I might cry.
Chapter Two
Andy’s mom has got it going on
James
Jackson and Duncan pass the Xbox controllers to Shane and me. I take a swig of my beer and loosen up my neck. “You ready for an ass kicking?”
Shane chuckles. He’s not big on words, but he’s the best keeper I’ve ever seen in soccer in real life and Xbox. I’m all talk at this. He’s the man, but if I come in strong, I’m hoping I won’t get too shown up.
Several girls come strolling into the house, sitting on the laps of the other guys on the far couches and giggling. Andy comes in behind them. He winks at me. “Thought I might bring some refreshments over.”
Jackson looks uncomfortable. He’s going to be a law student, and ninety percent of what Andy does makes him uncomfortable. His dad expects him to be the youngest congressman since Patrick Murphy.
Whereas Andy’s dad just expects him to graduate and work for him, emphases on graduate. Everyone knows he spends his days scraping by and his nights with Lana Webber and girls like her.
I wish some days I had a dad and he was rich like theirs. But then hanging out with them really pronounces the flaws in the system. They’re all insane.
I’ve only met one that wasn't a basket case, Lana’s dad—Lars Webber. He’s the man I want to be when I grow up. Minus the head-case daughter though.
“You guys hear what happened last night?” Duncan mutters to us.
I shake my head, praying it has nothing to do with me.
Shane shakes his head as he scores and gives me a wink. I roll my eyes as Duncan whispers, even though the three of us are huddled so no one else can hear. “I heard Lana Webber got raped. Cops came and everything.”
It’s like he’s reading my mind about Lana Webber, minus the rape. My guts burn when I think about it. “That can’t be true. It’s Lana Webber.”
“I know, right? Who has to rape Lana? She’s the sexual predator around here.”
Andy points at him. “Go easy on my girl.” Apparently, we weren’t talking as quietly as we thought.
“We all know she isn’t your girl.” Shane looks past him at the other girls in the room. “She’s with Chad and you can’t ever decide on one.”
Chad? The name brings up the face of the golden boy I hate from New York. God, she’s seeing him?
“That might be true,” Andy winks.
Shane continues, ignoring Andy’s bravado, “I heard it wasn't rape but something happened. She was a mess. My girlfriend is in that dorm. She said Lana was screaming and crying.”
“Maybe it was just another one of her fits. You know how she gets.” I can hardly breathe, praying it’s just her being her. She’s known for getting herself into trouble. The idea of someone hurting her makes me sick. She might be a crazy brat, but her dad is a kind man and no one deserves that kind of torture. He still holds out hope for her finding her way back on the straight and narrow.
Duncan shakes his head. “I hope they catch this guy. It’s getting out of hand. That's what—three rapes in three months?”
Shane nods, looking murderously. “Yeah. Anyone touches my girl and I’ll fucking kill.”
I actually believe him when he says it.
One of the girls in the entourage comes over and sits on my lap. I lean around her trying to see the TV as Shane scores again. The girl wraps her arms around my neck and whispers. “Want me to suck you off before the game tomorrow?”
I swallow hard, shaking my head.
Does everyone know how I like to get ready for a game?
Andy holds his drink in the air, toasting me.
And that would be how everyone knows.
Duncan pats his lap. “Come sit here, Brandy. Whisper sweet nothings in my ears.”
Shane nods at the door and I nod back. “Well, we have some studying to do.”
Andy waves coldly. “Fine, run away like bitches. When you’re done stroking each other’s cocks, don't forget we have a party tonight here at the frat.”
I hold my middle finger up in the air. “It’s your mom stroking my cock later, Andrew. Not Shane. His hands make my dick look too small.”
The girls laugh and Shane shoves me. “Get some self-esteem. It’s not that small.”
We both chuckle as we leave the frat house. Normally, it’s our hangout but when they start with the sluts and coke, us athletics students make a quick run for it. I love slutty girls, just not on campus. I didn't come to Harvard to get laid. I could have done that back home.
Jackson comes jogging out after us. “Wait up. I want Andy’s mom to stroke my cock too.”
I smile back. He’s acting tough, but he doesn't want any of that shit either. We don't have room for mistakes.
Shane sighs. “I have tests all week, and with the next couple games up and coming, I won’t even be leaving my dorm except to write tests and play soccer.”
“Me too.” Well, that’s not entirely true, but they don't need to know my whole schedule.
Jackson points in the direction of the field. “Wanna go play a little before practice tonight?”
I look at Shane who shrugs. “Sure. I have to study after practice though, for real.”
We head for the field to warm up and play a little before the team arrives. It’s nice being the three of us original players. The team seems so much younger now that we are the old guys on the team. Jackson grads this year and then starts law school in September and Shane is starting dental school. They’ll still be here at Harvard, but they’ll be too busy for soccer. I’ll be the only senior on the team next year, my last year of school.
Then I have to apply for the business school and pray that Lars Webber meant what he said four years ago.
Thinking about Lars makes me think about Lana. I wish I’d been able to hold up my end of the bargain with her. She’s such a train wreck and it doesn't seem to matter how hot I think she is, she’s the kind of trouble that gets you expelled or worse, arrested. I just can’t bring myself to help her.
I want to be the stand up man Lars needs me to be, but I just don't see that being possible. Especially now that she’s crying rape
over shit and having the police coming to the campus. No one wants to be the guy who gets caught up in one of her moods or drugged out tantrums and gets called a rapist.
Her dad must truly drink himself to sleep every night.
When practice is over I head for my dorm but Duncan drags me to the frat for the party. “It’ll be fun. That Brandy girl sucked me off, she’s a fucking star.”
I roll my eyes. “Your sloppy seconds hold no interest for me.”
He shoves me. “She’s a virgin. She doesn't have sex. Nothing sloppy about her. I’m planning on spending the weekend trying to get her to give it up.”
A low chuckle slips from my lips. “You want to have sex with her and yet you’re trying to get me interested in getting my dick in her mouth?”
He gives me a dirty grin. “Girls who suck you off are better at sucking dick than any girl ever.”
I look around campus. “How did you even get into this school?”
“My dad, bro. You know how I got in.”
I roll my eyes. “Yeah I was mocking you. They need to add mocking to the application.”
He punches me in the arm. “You give them lessons don't you? You tell them how to do it better.”
“It’s less about the lessons and more about the actions.” I return his grin with a wicked smile.
“Whatever. I guarantee you’re a master cock sucker.”
“No, but your mom is.” I laugh.
“You leave Dana out of this.”
I laugh harder and prepare myself for a night of inexperienced college girls sucking me off while I avoid whatever cocaine Andy has rigged my drinks with to get me kicked off the soccer team. He and I don't share the same opinion of funny.
Chapter Three
Love Games
Lana
Tapping my fingers against my thighs, I pace a little more. Bright-blue eyes watch me, no doubt filled with worry about the state of my mental health. Finally Nance says something, “No one cares that the cops came. They all think it was the campus rapist. No one thinks it was you—just making shit up or having a fit.”
Having a fit? I don’t have fits.
I shrug, blowing it off. “Whatever. I don’t care what they think. I have three months and I’m free—signed as the newest intern at Webber Records. I’ll be having dinner with the hottest acts in the country and shopping in Europe while they’re struggling to pay off their student loans and working at Starbucks.”
She rolls her eyes, mellowing out a bit. “Why are you even planning on getting a job? Come with me on the yacht and meet a rich man to pay for the rest of your life. Then you don’t have to worry about your parents’ expectations. That’s my plan.”
“Nance, I have to take over the company. It’s been the plan since I was in my mom’s stomach.”
She wrinkles her nose. “Speaking of expectations, did you talk to Chad yet?”
Chad . . . shit. Hadn’t he texted he was coming over tonight?
“He’s been all worried and annoying since the other day with the rapist. He sent flowers to the spa, tried to visit me there while I was mid-facial—like no. He’s so clingy.” I slump into the chair and focus my scattered brain. “I tried rehearsing the breakup in the spa with Este, but she was kind of a whore about the whole thing. She said I should stay with him, he’s rich and sweet. Like those are the only two traits that matter in the world.”
Nance lifts her brows. “She has a student loan. She doesn’t understand. She sees a cute dude with a trust fund and thinks he’s perfect. She doesn’t have the same standards as us.”
I look at Este’s door and shake my head. “She’s out tonight with some guy whose dad owns a car dealership. I tried fixing her up with one of the Rathbones from the Hamptons but she said his family was too white. I don’t even know what that means. What is too white?”
“Maybe they’re racist. Creepy. Oh my God, I have an idea.” She hops up from the chair and runs out into the hallway, leaving the door open. I wrinkle my nose, hating on the fact the skeezy dorm nerds can see in my door. The hallway stink starts seeping in just as she runs back in, dragging Leo from down the hall. She’s his hag. He’s awesome and adorable with his coifed dark hair and beautiful face. He has the most chiseled jaw at school and perfect blue eyes. She kicks the door shut and nods at Leo. “Practice on him.”
I smile as he puts his hands up. “What? You said she had cake in here. I don’t smell cake.” He looks around. “In fact, what is that smell?”
I blush and look down as Nance shoves him and mutters, “Lysol. The cleaning team’s just got done with the place.”
He bites his lip. “Oh God, Lana. I am such a shit. I forgot about the whole thing. Are you okay? Everyone has been talking about it nonstop, and it’s in all the papers and rag mags. I heard reporters have been getting escorted off the grounds a ton.”
The question makes a chuckle slip from me. “Yeah. I’m fine. I wasn’t raped or anything.”
“I knew it!” His brow knits. “Why did the cops come?”
What does he mean by he knew it? Am I too slutty to be raped? That’s harsh.
I shake my head, praying Nance just says it and gets it over with. “He rubbed his dick between her toes.”
“Oh snap! No he didn’t.” Leo bursts out laughing.
I sigh and let the fire burn on my face.
Leo sits at the small table. “What kind of a nasty ass sneaks into a girl’s dorm and soils her foot? Did you know him? Was it an ex with a foot thing you have withheld from us?”
“No. It was probably someone wanting to get even with me for something. It doesn’t matter. It’s gross but it’s done. I’m just glad I wasn’t raped.”
“No one is going to rape the willing.” Nance winks. “And you can’t say you haven’t done worse things in your life than have a dick between your toes.”
We all laugh, but I’m laughing only because I want to hide the shame of the comments. Not because she said them, but because they’re completely true. The guy I had sex with for a ride home when I was stranded at a rave in Vancouver is way worse than someone using my foot for half an hour. Although the foot thing feels worse. It hurts somewhere deep inside of me, somewhere my Paxil doesn’t reach.
“I am so relieved you didn’t get raped—like the other girls. I was a bit worried when I saw the cops and everyone was saying rapist, but I sort of assumed you were just mad at a guy or something.” Leo picks at the trail mix on the counter. “What is it you’re wanting to practice on me?”
I push aside the dismissive way we are all treating my incident and give him my best ‘I’m sorry face’ and mutter, “I think we need to break up.”
“Oh snap.” Leo nods his head. “Is this the whole Chad thing? Okay, this is going to be good. Hit me with your best shot.”
“You're a really great guy, Chad, but I'm looking for something less."
His eyebrows pull together. “Less. You want to start with great guy and then go to wanting less? What is this—your first time? What the hell is less than having sex twice a week anyway?”
“Dude, don’t add dialogue. Chad wouldn’t say that.”
Nance picks at the trail mix too. “No, he wouldn’t. He’d talk over her and plan dinner.”
It makes me laugh because it’s exactly what happened the last time I tried to break things off. He’s a booty call not a boyfriend, but he doesn’t get that. He’s always planning dates and shit, and I’m tired of blowing him off. I’m even more tired of daydreaming about a certain other booty call and imagining it’s him screwing me instead of Chad.
He’s legit making me crazy.
I close my eyes and wave my hands in front of my face, getting back into break-up mode. When I feel it again, I nod. “You know, Chad, three months ago when I met you, I knew you would be hard to break up with."
The look on Leo’s face is priceless for a second before he breaks and starts to laugh. “You don’t say this shit every time you need to end things with a man whore?
You met him and planned the breakup. What the hell, Lana?" He starts sounding ghetto for a super-gay white guy.
The whole process is stressing me out, and Leo is turning out to be worse to practice on than Henry. I sigh. “You need to take this seriously. He's going to be here any minute.” Not to mention, I can’t imagine letting him touch me right now, not after the whole foot thing. “Now look me in the eyes and give me the saddest shit you have. I want puppy-dog eyes and possibly sniffles."
He pushes back from the table, shaking his head like he’s flabbergasted. "You have a sickness . . . a real sickness. I love you, you are my bitch—but no." Leo shakes his head, pointing at me. “This is why I thank God every day that I am gay, hateful bitches like you." He lifts his fingers to his lips, dropping trail mix into his parted mouth and spilling some on the wooden floor my dad’s workers put in for me.
“Gay guys don’t do that. They eat all tidy and dainty. I think you need lessons in the stereotypes of your people.” He is the most stereotypical man I have ever met. He broke the mold for me for gay guys. My friends back home are feminine with a capital FEM but Leo is not. Mostly because he’s still in the closet back home.
Nance looks like she might add something, but Leo leans over the bowl on the table. Taking my challenge and mocking to heart, he sticks his face in—eating from it like it’s a trough. It’s enough to make me sick, but he makes it much worse by drinking from my glass of ginger ale. He burps and smiles. “No diet soda? Wow. Brave. Who knew you were so reckless with calories. Maybe you should hang on to Chad for when you get fat. Booty calls are harder to come by for the big girls.”
“Seriously? Did you just burp? I don’t think I even knew gay guys burped,” Nance laughs.
He fights a smile but nods like he’s making a big decision. “I have to bounce, but you need to know, you really are heartless, even for a spoiled white girl. Come and get me when this train wreck is over and you want to get drunk and look for new man meat.” He smiles at Nance. “So see you girls in an hour?"
Nance laughs. “Less than. It’s Lana. She dumps by text half the time.”