Total pages in book: 151
Estimated words: 141634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 567(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
“Sir, we’re here,” I hear the driver say. He’s standing at my door holding it open. I unfold myself from the car. I look around and see a good twenty cars filling the long driveway.
“Fucking hell,” I mutter to myself. Maybe it will be so busy in there that I can sneak out without being noticed. “I’ll text you when I’m ready,” I tell the driver. He nods, closing the car door as I head toward the front entry. I don’t bother knocking as I push through the door.
I grit my teeth when it opens and I see the party is in full swing. People are laughing and wandering about.
“Hunter!” I hear my stepmother Porsha gush as she rushes up to me. She tries to hug me, but I take a step back. Her hands like to roam and linger a little too long, something I’ve told my dad about before, but he just shakes his head as if it’s no big deal his wife is rubbing on anything with a dick.
“Where is he?” I ask.
My dad is almost as bad as I am at these things. I don’t know why he keeps letting her throw these parties if he rarely attends them himself. He shows for a few moments, then he disappears back into his office.
She sighs. “You know where he is.”
I nod and head toward the back of the house. When I get to his office, I open the door and find him behind his desk staring at his computer. I glance up at the enormous picture behind him. It’s of him and my mom when they got married. It’s been there for as long as I can remember. Nothing about the house has really changed except for the people inside it.
“Dad.” I walk over to his mini bar, pour myself a drink and then drop into the chair in front of him. I pull at the top of my tux, undoing the tie. I think I had it knotted for all of twenty minutes.
Dad’s face lights up when he sees me, and I feel like an asshole. “I see the gold digger is out there spending your money as fast as she can.”
Dad shrugs like he doesn't care. I clench my teeth. I know the woman could burn money and we’d still never run out, but it still pisses me off.
I chug my drink back before standing and slamming the empty glass down onto his desk. I can feel the buzz flowing through my body. I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off.
“Porsha’s daughter is here. I want you to meet her.”
“One money-sucking leech is all I need for one night. I don’t want to meet her mini-me.”
“Hunter,” my dad barks. I look up at him. It’s the first flash of temper I’ve seen from him in a long time. It reminds me of when he thought my mom was getting hit on by someone and he lost it. “You don’t talk about Autumn that way.” His jaw is hard. “Ever.”
“You know what, Dad? Why don’t you enjoy your new family? You seemed so eager to replace the old one, might as well make use of them.”
Pain flashes across his face. I know the feeling. I study him for a second and he looks tired. His hair is even grayer than the last time I saw him only a month ago. I should feel bad, but I’m too angry.
“Son.” He speaks softly this time, and I know that voice. It’s the voice he uses when I’m about to learn a lesson. But I don’t feel like it right now. I don’t want to feel anything at the moment and the liquor is helping me with that. In fact, I think I want to go find more.
“Not tonight, Dad.” I turn to leave and I stop at the door. “I love you,” I say without turning around to look at him. I take a breath and walk out, leaving the door open behind me.
I may be pissed, but my mom would roll over in her grave if I didn't say those words before I walked out of the room. Even when we were mad, we always had to say it to each other. We never walk away without it.
I stumble out and down the hallway in search of the bar I know my stepmonster has to have close by. I dodge people as I make my way through the crowd. A few try to stop and talk to me, but I keep on going. I even ignore the mayor when he tries to grab my attention.
“Scotch,” I tell the bartender when I finally find it. He pours me a drink and I swallow it back. I turn around and look around the living room. The warm liquor has gone straight to my head on an empty stomach, and the room is beginning to look fuzzy. I don’t remember how much I’ve had, but it’s too much too fast.