Chapter Thirteen
Griffin
Instead of spending my weekend productively, I’m forced yet again to waste time thanks to my parents. In this case, it’s my father.
The hell of it is, there’s nothing I can do about it. Sending me a hooker at work is the least of what he’s capable of if I don’t attend his ridiculous birthday party.
I sit in my Tesla and glare at the road. The only way out would be if my EV malfunctioned in a significant way. I’d be ecstatic if its battery burst into flames.
Unfortunately, my car doesn’t cooperate. It drives like a dream.
Fucking modern engineering.
I park the Tesla in front of Dad’s mansion and pull my Rams cap low. My wraparound sunglasses cover a large chunk of my features, and I’m sporting two days’ worth of stubble to make sure I look nothing like my usual professorial self. Thousands of photos and videos are going to be plastered all over social media before the day is over, and I’ll be damned if anybody’s going to recognize me.
I climb out and clench my teeth at the sight of the porno statues in the yard. The surrounding shrubs have been trimmed low to ensure everyone has an unobstructed view. Dad calls them “art.” But just because something’s made of marble and bronze doesn’t mean it’s art. I could’ve made a dick going into a vagina with bronze-colored clay in one afternoon and sold it to my father for a million bucks.
The main structure is huge, with ivory walls and turrets the architect added because Dad wanted something “classy.” The place is outrageously large—far too big for one person. And the size isn’t to accommodate his seven sons and their mothers. We were shipped off to Europe, where boarding schools are plentiful, as soon as we could talk. All Dad had to do was write checks and claim he was giving us the best education available.
He saw us once in a while when he happened to be in Europe on vacation and could spare an hour or two out of his debauched schedule. Every time he visited, he made sure to stage a scene to embarrass and humiliate us in front of everyone. It got so bad that I tried to give myself pneumonia by staying out all night in the cold with wet hair when I knew he was coming.
We were allowed to return to the States when we were old enough. Mainly because it would have looked weird for him to keep us in Europe when the “providing my children with the best education in the world” excuse no longer worked.
I walk up the steps to the main door. It’s left open in a gesture of so-called welcome, probably Joey’s doing. He likes to be able to see who’s coming so he can categorize them by importance and treat them accordingly.
The bastard looks smug and happy in the foyer, tapping away on his tablet. He’s in a teal shirt and jeans, his orange hair slicked back from his flour-pasty face. He probably keeps himself pale on purpose. With more of a tan, people might mistake him for one of those Star Trek Ferengi.
Joey looks up. His green eyes meet mine and immediately widen. He flinches, his shoulders rising high enough to touch his ears. He clutches his tablet like a shield in front of him.
That’s right, Joey. Who’s brave enough to run his mouth now?My eyes on him, I stalk toward him.
“Bathroom break!” he squeaks. He turns around and trots into the house, turning the first corner and then peeking around the wall at me from a position of relative safety.
Coward. On the other hand, he’s seen videos of my kickboxing matches. He asked me how long it’d take for him to be able to kick like me, and I told him it might happen when cows start fucking pigs.
Furthermore, my current outfit of a white tank top and black swim trunks probably didn’t help alleviate his terror. Joey seems to believe that if I’m in a dress shirt and slacks, I can’t get violent with him. But I could kick his ass wearing a straitjacket.
I walk toward where he was standing, noting the artistically arranged pile of wrapped presents. What wouldn’t I give to kick the bunch, just to see Joey’s reaction?
Actually…I’m going to do just that.Who’s going to stop me? Nobody from the college is around to see me vent my ire, and Joey deserves it after pulling that hooker stunt and mouthing off to me afterward.
I casually snap a foot out, aiming for a large box near the bottom. The box goes flying and the colorful tower collapses with a loud crash.
Ah,I sigh inwardly with satisfaction.
“Oh shit, oh shit!” Joey scuttles back in, his cheeks bright red. His eyes start to go a little wild. “What the hell, man?”
“Sorry. I slipped.”
“Slipped?” He glares at me like I just kicked a dying puppy. “You did that on purpose!”
“It’s the floor. Too highly waxed.” I gesture at the gleaming black and white tiles. “If my reflexes were any poorer, I would’ve fallen and broken something. Then I would’ve had to sue Dad for the injury.”
“Nobody falls down and breaks something!”
“That isn’t true,” I say in my most authoritative tone. “More than ninety-five percent of hip fractures are caused by domestic falls.”
“How the hell would you know something like that?”