“I won’t go back.”
“Because of the dates?”
“Among other things.”
He holds his pinky out to me. “You swear it?”
The corners of my lips tip up, and I wrap my pinky around his. “I swear it.”
“Good.” He pushes himself up, groaning as he stands. “Because I’d hate to have to duct-tape you to a chair and leave you in the closet.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time.”
“Hey, you deserved it.”
“Oh my gosh. I unplug your Nintendo one time when you’re one hit away from beating Bowser and I somehow deserve to get taped to a chair and left to die.” I roll my eyes. “So dramatic.”
He narrows his gaze on me. “Brat.”
“Shithead,” I counter, finishing off the rest of my coffee to hide my grin.
Dean fights his own smile and takes my empty cup. “Breakfast before your interview today?”
I’ve spent the last week scouring the internet for jobs around town. There’s not much, but I was able to find an open position at a marketing firm.
It’s another reason I was up half the night—nerves.
I haven’t had to interview somewhere since I was a damn teenager, and that was for a part-time gig at a smoothie shop in high school.
“Only if you buy,” I tell him.
“Mooch.”
“You love me.”
“Debatable.” He spins on his heel. “Now go shower. Your stench is scaring Morris.”
I hear a meow, like the little shit is agreeing with him.
I lift my arm, taking a whiff.
“Ugh.” I wrinkle my nose at my stench.
Well, that’s a new low for me, which is saying something since it’s been a shitty few weeks.
First priority: a shower.
Then I’ll conquer the world.
2
Sutton
Six months.
All I had to do was wait six more months until my trust fund kicked in.
Six more months of living under their rules. Doing what they wanted. Playing the dutiful son who wasn’t slowly dying inside.
That was all I had to endure, and I couldn’t fucking do it.
If you’d asked me just five days ago where I saw myself this weekend, I’d have told you at a bar surrounded by beautiful women and expensive booze, trying to blow off some steam.
I certainly would not have said staying in a hotel, sitting at an old diner I’d normally never be caught dead in, and applying for every job I come across.
And it’s all because I couldn’t keep my shit together for one night.
To be fair, I was goaded. My older brother, Thomas, was antagonizing me the entire night, flaunting his wife—my ex-girlfriend, but that’s a whole different story—in front of me and tossing barbs my way about what a sack of shit I am.
After my dad laid into me for something I didn’t do, I was slamming drinks left and right to cope with having to be buttoned up in yet another stuffy suit and dealing with my family parading around like the royalty they aren’t.
After seven rum and Cokes that were light on the Coke, I was sloshed, and all it took was one more comment to set me off.
Of course, I could have saved punching Thomas for another time other than my father’s charity banquet. And sure, I probably shouldn’t have run from the security guards, hopped on my dad’s boat, and gunned it into the harbor like an idiot.
But that’s exactly what happened.
The rebel Barnes son causing yet another scene? Yeah, I was toast.
The locks to the penthouse I’ve been living in—provided I’m a good puppet for dear old Mom and Dad—were changed before I even got home. When I finally managed to crawl my way over there the next morning, I found my things sitting outside the front door.
The message was clear: my dad is done with my shit.
And that’s fine, because I’m done with his too.
My phone buzzes against the table for the second time since I sat down ten minutes ago.
I don’t have to look to know it’s my mother.
She’s been calling for days, twice an hour every hour. I’ve yet to answer her because she’s only calling to beg me to apologize to my father, and I refuse.
“Here’s that slice of pecan, dear,” the server says, sliding a plate in front of me. “Refill on coffee for you?”
I nod and she tops off my brew as my phone begins to ring again.
Seriously, Mom?
“Don’t tell me you’re going to let that ring and not answer your mama, kid.” The server pins me with a stare, a bushy brow cocked. “She brought you into this world, and she can take you right out.”
I want to tell her to mind her own business, but there’s a niggling feeling that perhaps I should answer. She usually doesn’t call three times in a row.
With one last pointed look, she gives me a promise to check on me soon and sashays away.
Though the pie sitting in front of me looks like it fell right off the page of a magazine, my appetite just isn’t there. I shove the plate away and blow out a heavy breath, picking up my phone and hitting my mom’s name before I can chicken out.
“I’m so glad you’ve decided to spare a moment of your time for your own mother.” Her words drip with sarcasm, and I clench my jaw, already kicking myself for falling for her shit and calling her back.
“You called?”
“You need to talk with your father.”
Fucking called it.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, the frustration growing. “Mother…”
She huffs. “Don’t use that tone with me, young man. You’ve embarrassed your father and this family. Your family, in case you’ve forgotten that.”
Unfortunately, as much as I’ve tried, I have not been able to forget that fact.
Where I grew up, a Barnes has more influence than the damn mayor. And that’s because they own the town—literally. Hotels, stores, restaurants, gas stations…pretty much everything. Elbows are rubbed with all the right people, and the family makes money hand over fist investing in company after company. A Barnes’s pockets are as deep as their connections. Everything we touch turns to gold.
My father? He’s Reginald Barnes, and he is king.
Ruler of the family. Of the town. Of my life.
“Your father has never asked for much from you, Sutton. The least you can do is not act like a fool at his dinner.”
I laugh. Never asked for much from me?
Yeah fucking right.
My whole life was mapped out for me when I was still in diapers. I’ve not had one thing that isn’t tied to them. I’ve not had one decision in my life that hasn’t been dictated by them.
She ignores my laugh and sighs. “I just wish…”
Oh god. Here it comes.
She sniffles. “I just wish you could do this for me, Sutton. I love you so much and just want the best for you, and being with your family is what’s best. I want to be a happy family. Can’t you do that for me?”
Translation: a happy family looks better for the press.
I want to remind her that it was my father who made it abundantly clear I was no longer welcome in the family.
But I know that likely won’t go over well.
“What’s best for me isn’t always what you want, Mother.”
She inhales sharply, and just like that, her switch is flipped.
“You are such an ungrateful, spoiled brat. Your father has worked hard to build a life for you and you will apologize to him or I promise you, you’ll regret it. You’re—”
“An embarrassment and good for nothing?” I snort. “Yeah, I’ve heard it all before. But I’m done listening to this, and I’m hanging up now.”
She gasps, and it’s the last thing I hear before I end the call, not feeling the least bit of remorse.
I’ve been who they wanted me to be my entire life. I played the sports they wanted me to play. I had the friends they wanted me
to have. I’ve spent the last five years running myself into the ground working for them when I’d rather be anywhere else. I have let them rule my life and get away with too much. Sure, I’ve fucked up a time or two, but that’s no reason for them to despise me like they do…like they always have.
I’m not the heir to the Barnes empire. I’m the spare, and they have no use for spares in my world.
Even as I sit here knowing my future is looking grim, I feel damn good about being out from under their thumb. For the first time in a long time, I feel free, and I can’t remember the last time I had a taste of freedom.
I take a sip of my black coffee, letting the caffeine work its magic as I glance around the diner I’ve been coming to over the last three days.
For a Thursday morning, the place is pretty packed. It’s littered with old train and railroad artifacts hanging on the walls. Makes sense since the building was clearly once a train depot.
When I asked where I could grab a bite to eat, the clerk at the hotel looked at me like I was nuts and told me there was no other place in the city that had breakfast as good as The Gravy Train.
So, here I am, sitting alone for breakfast for what might be the first time in my life, contemplating what I’m going to do next.
It’d be so easy to just call my father, make amends, and be peaceful for the next six months to get access to my trust fund, but I’m stubborn, and I’d rather not stoop that low.
I’m not that desperate…yet.
It’s weird. On one hand, I feel relieved. On the other…well, I’d never admit this to anyone because I’m pretty sure I’d be called a total pussy, but I’m scared.
I’ve never been on my own like this before, never not had my family name to fall back on.
When I saw my bags sitting in the hallway, I didn’t even bother calling my friends. They know better than to invite me into their humble abodes. An ousted Barnes sleeping on their couch? The whole town would have a conniption.
Instead, I loaded up my car and headed north to Harristown, Colorado, where my Aunt Alma lives. I haven’t spoken to her in months, but I figured if there’s anyone else who’ll understand the position I’m in and could offer some advice, it’s her.
“I never did like it when you frown.”
Speak of the devil…
Just hearing her voice makes me smile.
I push off of my stool, coming around the table to wrap my arms around my tiny aunt who stands nearly a foot shorter than me. She squeezes me back tightly, and the familiar scent of baked goods wafts into my nose.
“Damn, I’ve missed your hugs, Aunt Alma.”
She chuckles, pulling back. “You just missed the way I smell like chocolate chip cookies all the time.”
“That too.” I wink. “Thank you for making time for me this morning.”
She rolls her eyes. “Make time for my favorite nephew? Please, like that was hard.” I push my open laptop to the side as she slips onto the stool opposite me, pushing her sparkling purple sunglasses to the top of her head. “How you been, kid?”
When I arrived in town a few days ago, I thought about calling up my aunt right away. Maybe asking to bum a spot on her couch.
But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Even though I know she wouldn’t have turned me away and would have welcomed me into her home without a question, that stubbornness I inherited from my dad reared its head.
If I’m ever going to prove to them I’m not the screwup they think I am, I have to do this on my own.
“Good.”
She sputters out a laugh. “Please—I may not be part of the family anymore, but I know how to use the internet. You’re hosed.”
Should have known she’d be in the loop somehow…
“So you know, huh?”
“Son of the untouchable Reginald Barnes wrecking the evening at a charity event? That’s headline-worthy news.” She shakes her head. “An event to raise money for kids with cancer, Sutton? That’s low, even for you.”
I’m no stranger to being in the spotlight. That happens when you’re a Barnes. My entire life has been lived under a microscope, and every little mistake I’ve ever made has been thoroughly documented.
Including the time I was dared by my friends to drive down the highway in a golf cart. And the time I got caught with my pants down outside of a club with a beautiful blonde on her knees in front of me.
To be fair, I was young and dumb, barely even able to drink. Everyone makes mistakes then. Mine just happened to be memorialized in print.
You’d think because we didn’t live in New York or California, our family would be off the radar of the gossip mags. But when you’re Barnes rich, I guess they don’t care where you live.
I wince. “It wasn’t my finest moment.”
“The only thing the papers left out was what your asshole brother did to deserve it.”
I laugh. Alma understands better than anyone else what it’s like to be the spare. She knows what it feels like to be tossed aside like you don’t matter.
Alma was the original Barnes rebel. She wasn’t game to be one of the lonely, robotic housewives women born to Barnes men are expected to be. She’s her own person completely, and she wasn’t about to sit around and let someone else dictate her life. So when she got pregnant out of wedlock a few years before she turned thirty, she worked out a deal with my grandfather that she’d take her baby and go away quietly if she got early access to her trust fund. She got out of Dodge and made a nice life for herself out here in Harristown with my cousin, Jacob, who is now ten years deep in the Marine Corps out on the East Coast. Alma now runs a hair salon, and she just so happens to be the happiest person I know.
It gives me faith that I could be that happy one day too.
“He was just being Thomas.”
“I’m sure your relationship hasn’t gotten better since he married that ex of yours either.” She purses her lips. “The nerve of that little twerp, stealing your girl.”
The real messed-up part is that I wasn’t even that mad about Thomas and Ava that night. I mean, am I annoyed as hell every time I see them together because she was my girl first? Yeah, it chaps my ass to no end.
But that night I was more upset about him screwing me over and throwing me under the bus for his mistake. A client whose project I was managing was ready to back out because they caught Thomas sticking his dick in the daughter of their CEO, but I was saving it. Was this damn close to fixing his mistake, all while he was busy whispering in Dad’s ear about how I was the one who was at fault. I know way better than to mix business with pleasure like that. That had bitten me in the ass already. No way I was about to make that same mistake again.
Before the event, Dad pulled me into his office and ripped me a new one, not bothering to listen to me.
Already on thin ice, there was no way I could bail on the event and hole up in my apartment with a bottle of booze like I wanted to.
Instead, I drank and drank and drank…and then drank some more.
The result? A broken nose for Thomas, a wrecked boat for my father, and me getting the boot.
I shrug, not wanting to go into it now. “It is what it is.”
She frowns but doesn’t push for more on the subject. “Please tell me you’re not going to sit there and let that pie go to waste. Pretty sure that’s a sin.”
“Not hungry.”
She makes a noise that says she disagrees and pushes the plate my way. “Eat, Sutton. That pie will turn your frown upside down.”
“Yeah? Is it gonna make me shit out a sign for what the fuck I’m supposed to do now? Maybe a place to live and a job?”
Her lips twitch. “Never hurts to try.”
With a defeated sigh, I stab my fork into the pie and shovel a bite into my mouth like my mother never taught me a single manner.
And fuck me, it’s good. Like slap-my-ass-and-call-me-sugar-tits kind of good. Likely the best pie I’ve ever had, and my nanny used to make some delicious pecan pie.
> “Good?”
I nod, swallowing. “Fucking amazing.” I stab another bite onto my fork, shoveling it into my mouth before wiping it with a napkin. “This is why you’re my favorite aunt, Alma. You never steer me wrong.”
She quirks one of her drawn-on brows. “I’m your favorite aunt because you don’t have any others.”
“Small detail.”
She shakes her head and takes a sip of the coffee in her hands. “Smartass.”
I shoot her a grin. “You know you love me.”
“That I do, kid. That I do.”
I glance up from stuffing my face, and I can see it in her eyes—the pity.
It’s on the tip of her tongue to offer me a helping hand, but she knows me better than that. She knows I won’t accept it. She understands how I feel since she’s been in my shoes before and knows I have to move forward on my own. Because if I don’t, I can’t prove them wrong.
And I really want to fucking prove them wrong.
My computer pings, pulling my attention to the icon in the corner indicating I have a new email.
I click to my inbox and my brows shoot up as I read through it.
“What’s that look for, kid?” Alma asks, stealing a lone pecan off my plate.
“Interview,” I tell her. “I got an interview.”
“Already?”
“Yeah.” I nod, looking away from my computer. “They want to meet with me this week.”
“That’s good, right? Because you don’t look like it’s a good thing.”
“No, it’s good. It’s just…” I look back over at Alma, knowing she’ll understand my hesitation. “What if…what if I fail?”
“Then you fail.” She laughs when my mouth drops open. “Listen, kid, I could sit here and say you won’t and everything is going to be unicorns and rainbows for you. But it’s not. It’s gonna suck a whole lot before it gets better.” She reaches over to rest her hand on top of mine, giving it a squeeze. “But it will get better. And all the rainy days will be worth it.”
The last of her words are whispered, but I hear them all the same.
She’s in my corner, and I realize in that moment that’s all that really matters to me.
Tempt Thy Neighbor (Roommate Romps) Page 2