Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91507 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 458(@200wpm)___ 366(@250wpm)___ 305(@300wpm)
He found his mom drinking coffee at the teal Formica table she’d found on the sidewalk years ago.
“You came in late again last night,” she said before taking another sip from her favorite mug. It said: Best Mom Evah. Hop had given it to her for Mother’s Day a few years back. She’d never used another since. Seeing it now made him wince.
There was no judgment in her tone, as if she were making a scientific observation.
Hop knew better.
He turned his back on her to grab the package of bagels. “Sorry, did I wake you?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral.
“No.” He could feel her appraising gaze as he slid the bagel into the toaster. His stomach was in knots, which was not doing much for his hangover-induced queasiness. Those last five shots had been a bad idea, but after seeing Rafe a habitual sense of unrest had cured him of any thoughts of discretion.
He should have better control by now. It wasn’t like he didn’t know the risks.
But when the thrill of disobedience ignited his inner wild child, he always threw caution to the wind and let bedlam reign supreme. Last night, it had led him to drink too much tequila and follow the clingy leather-bound amateur daddy home. They’d fucked.
Or at least, he thought they had.
Hop remembered passively taking what was given and not coming. He rarely came. By the time he was lying face down on a stranger’s bed, the entire point of his quiet rebellion was moot and the thrilling rage heating his blood cooled to a sickening shame.
This, in itself, was its own kind of addiction. One he’d been fighting for too long.
Whenever he sought what he really needed, it got him into trouble. And when he settled for something a little less provocative, he was never fulfilled.
His bagel popped up, breaking him out of his own thoughts. The scent of onions and garlic didn’t help the wooziness. He grabbed the slices, quickly dropping them on the plate, then blew on his burnt fingertips.
“Just promise me you’re being safe this time.” Her voice was tight with resignation. Hop couldn’t not look at her when she sounded like that.
“It’s not like before.” Except it was, wasn’t it?
It was almost exactly like before.
Hop gripped the plate hard as the realization rolled through him. On its heels—guilt. Because he was staring at his mother, the goddess who loved him unconditionally, who raised him by herself, worked three jobs so he could take dance classes, and supported his passions. And his choices made her worry. They added to the wrinkles already marring her face. They kept her up at night and gave her bags under her eyes.
He couldn’t stand to see his mother so worn down.
“I’m sorry, Mom.” He sat, placed his plate on the table, and then reached across to grab her hand. “I’ll get home early tonight, okay?”
She glanced at her coffee. “You don’t need to do that, honey. You’re young. You should be out enjoying your life. It’s just a mother’s concern.”
“Still.”
“No, it’s okay. I trust you.” She met his eyes.
Hop swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. “Thanks.”
If she knew...
God, if she had any idea who his new boss was...
Hop covered by taking a bite of his dry bagel. He wouldn’t let the coming explosion hit his mom. There was no reason she ever had to find out how close he was to the enemy.
Although sometimes he thought it was only him who boiled for a confrontation. His mother was annoyingly content with the way things were.
It didn’t matter that the man she’d loved had married another woman and had a legitimate son, leaving her to raise Hop all alone and in secret. It didn’t matter that Hop’s father was New York royalty and living on the Upper West Side with his perfect family while she and Hop had struggled every fucking day just to have enough to eat.
It didn’t matter to her that he had abandoned his firstborn son but taken the chauffeur’s son under his wing and given him everything that should have been Hop’s.
But it mattered to him. He might have been able to let the whole thing go if it’d just been Malcolm, but being replaced by someone who wasn’t even blood? No.
Hop would never forgive any of them.
Including Rafe.
Chapter Two
“Anyone know what’s going on?” Hop asked as he entered the club through the backstage door hours earlier than usual.
The dressing room was packed with all of Switch’s regular performers, including the rest of the Sassy Boyz. As he made his way over to them, he pulled off the oversize teal scarf he’d wrapped around his neck and shoulders. Outside the temps might have sunk below freezing, but this tiny overcrowded room was a sauna.
“Mark must’ve called in all the goddamn talent they have contracted, even the freelancers,” Ansel, the group’s unofficial leader, said, scanning the crowd. His platinum blond hair already perfectly coiffed, and shimmery eye shadow made his green eyes shine.