Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72591 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 290(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“Need I remind you what I can do to you, son. Remember, that fancy car you’re driving and the big house we live in, we got those things because of my business and Emerson’s father was someone who helped me get that business started. He’s not just a business associate but a friend also, and he is struggling now and I’m not going to let him down because my son is an asshole. Get yourself together, and befriend the girl.”
My jaw clenches at his tone of voice. He’s not even warning me, he’s all but saying, ‘do as you’re told, or I’ll rip the rug right out from underneath you’ and if there’s anything I hate, it’s when my father who’s normally absent from my wrongdoings and life, telling me what to do.
“Yeah, yeah, I got it. I’ll put my nice pants on and show the girl around, like I have nothing better to do.” In fact, I really don’t have anything better to do, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“One other thing…” he muffles into the phone, and I clenched my fist at my side, the muscles of my bicep tightening. I’m ready to swing it into the drywall. “Do not, under any circumstances try to have sex with her. I promised her father that my son would keep his dick to himself and I expect you to do just that. You have more than enough women to choose from. Befriend her and nothing more. Got it?”
I almost laugh at his words. He should know better than to assume that pussy is hard for me to get. It’s like breathing, sleeping, eating. It’s second nature.
“Don’t worry, Dad, I’m not looking for any hookups right now, and if I was, there are plenty of girls lined up waiting for this stud,” I joke, but it’s not really a joke…more of a confession.
A few weeks ago his warning would have made perfect sense, but ever since I met this mystery girl at that company fundraiser my dad made me go to, random chicks have become less and less appealing to me. I tried to get the red-haired, blue-eyed, freckle-faced beauty out of my head by screwing other coeds but either my cock is broken, or I am, because since that night, I haven’t been able to forget her. How her slim body felt in my embrace or her honeysuckle scent that I swear I can still smell sometimes.
She’s like a ghost, haunting me through my days.
“Alright, son. I’ll call you later to see how everything went. Please do your best not to fuck this up,” my father says gruffly before hanging up. I pulled the phone away from my ear and stare at the screen for a moment. The asshole didn’t even say bye. I shouldn’t be surprised. He hasn’t given a fuck about me since Mom died and God knows he doesn’t have to tell me that he thinks I’m going to mess up. I already know what he thinks about me, that I’m a no-good son who can’t do anything right.
Unreliable, brash, cocky, impulsive. He’s got a long list of words he’s called me, and none of them include good son, or I’m proud of you. I’m more about making his life harder than making it easier and it will remain that way most likely for the rest of my life. I know he doesn’t think much of me. Well good, the feeling is mutual.
Heading for the kitchen, I pull out all the stuff for a sandwich and start shoving the ingredients between two pieces of bread. Then I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and head for the basement. It’s where I do all the shit I shouldn’t do.
Weed, girls, partying, you name it, it’s probably taken place in my basement. Dropping down onto the leather sectional, I take a bite of sandwich and place the water bottle in the cupholder. I contemplate calling Vance, my best friend and confidant, but decide against it. I don’t want to explain the puppy dog named Emerson that is my responsibility for the next few days. Once I have her stowed away and settled in then maybe I’ll consider it.
All I know is I need to keep this girl and my personal life far away from each other. There is no way in hell I’m letting the girl with social struggles, as my father called them, cramp my style.
Lifting the sandwich, I bring it to my mouth, ready to take another bite when the doorbell rings. I roll my eyes and clench my jaw. Of course she is fucking early, if this isn’t a sign of things to come, I don’t know what is. Sighing, I drop the sandwich back down onto the plate and get up and walk up the stairs. Chicks I can handle, chicks that I can’t screw, not so much. And since I can’t dip my dick inside of her, then I’m going to have to resort to being an asshole.