Damien as my stepdad? No fucking thank you.
It’s after one in the morning and they’re at each other’s throats. I have half a mind to stomp to the master bedroom and tell them I have school in the morning.
Their shouts filter past my bedroom door and drown out the music I’m blasting. Jesus. I shake my head, entering a new file in my encrypted program full of people’s secrets, adding an old incident report of Landry’s friend with the leather jacket, Fox Wilder.
“The fuck kind of name is Fox?” I mutter, swigging from my near-empty can of Coke as I input the data.
Holden’s dad coughed it up when I pressured him to run a search or I’d start letting his skeletons out of the closet. It didn’t turn up much. My access and leverage only extend to the Ridgeview Police Department he heads. There’s a report on a car accident that killed his parents and landed little Fox Wilder in the foster care system, whisking him away from Ridgeview at a young age. The rest of the files are sealed or missing, which is weird. I only put a medium amount of effort in before I give up.
Whatever, I have enough to shake him down if he ever steps out of line with me. With that leather jacket and the giant chip on his shoulder, it’s only a matter of time before he stirs trouble in this town.
“You’re making me crazy, Vivian!” Damien screams. “I’ve put my entire career at risk because I love you, and you’re acting like that’s nothing.”
Mom’s response is muffled by the heavy beat drop on the song playing on my speakers, thank god.
“Why are we still waiting for this? Why am I always the one sneaking around like your mistress? I thought you were in love with me!” Damien wails. Actually full on bleats, the sound of his betrayed misery like some dying animal. Maybe this will be their breaking point. “Divorce isn’t going to ruin your political career!”
All right, screw this. I’m not staying in here. I’ll head out back to smoke until they’ve worked out their shit. I know from sickening experience that the bigger their blowouts, the more frenzied their makeup sex is.
No one should have to listen to their mom like that, let alone walk in on it like I did when I first discovered them. It’s fucking gross.
I can’t wait to save up enough to move out. My trust fund inheritance from granddad won’t pay out for a while, but I’ve got my thumb in a bunch of pies. I won’t wait around. I’ll do anything I can to get the hell away from my mother’s chain leash. The bitcoin investments are growing, and I’ve been dabbling in learning how to make an app. After I saw Thea’s vulnerable security on her computer network, I’ve been thinking about creating something for desktop and mobile that will protect the same secrets I mine for.
“We’re not having this discussion again,” Mom snaps as I head downstairs on my way to the back door.
Damien’s shouts follow me when I slip out back with a joint, my head pounding. I should leave the back door open so their argument can wake up the whole neighborhood.
Sprawling on a lounge chair, I sigh in relief as I light up, taking a deep drag on the joint. I fold an arm behind my head and play around with making the smoke curl into shapes. As the high sets in, I relax.
I pull my phone out, the joint dangling from my lips as I text Devlin, sending him a GIF of a sad frog in black and white with the lyrics from Simon & Garfunkel’s The Sound of Silence to convey my despair.
Connor: Darkness is my only friend. [skull emoji]
Devlin doesn’t answer, but I’m not surprised. He got Blair Davis to move in with him. I have no idea how he went from dangling dollar bills on fishing wire in front of her at the beginning of school to living with her, but that’s where they’re at. Grumpy bastard is probably balls deep in her, so I tuck my phone away and finish the joint.
My gaze trails to Thea’s house and I sit up, surprised to see a light on. I didn’t think she’d be up this late.
With a lopsided smile, I stalk across her yard, keeping to the shadows as I creep around. The back door is unlocked when I test it. Sneaking in drives away my melancholy, the mischief putting my mood in high spirits. The smell of warm sugar hits me and I almost groan.
Around the corner, Thea is a delicious mess, covered in flour and dough as she presses a cookie cutter to a slab of cookie dough. Her hair is piled on top of her head in a bun, she has tight spandex shorts on that make her ass look divine, and a loose pink cropped t-shirt. I pause to watch her, my captured sun bathed in moonlight. The light I chased and caught for a few stolen moments.
“Boo,” I say, laughing when she jumps with a strangled shriek.
“Connor, what the hell,” Thea hisses, flashing a look at the ceiling where her mom probably is. She flutters her messy hands over her shirt, letting out an embarrassed laugh. “You scared the crap out of me.”
A deep boof sounds and I lift my hands as her rottweiler charges into the room, heading straight for me.
Shit. Maybe sneaking in wasn’t my best idea when she’s got an attack dog protecting her.
Twenty-Three
Thea
My heart is still racing from the jump scare of Connor sneaking into my house in the middle of the night, like some dark prince of depravity.
“Con, wait,” I say.
Constantine halts, huffing at Connor.