“Where are you going?”
“Uh, I’m going to look for a place to park.”
Shit. Of course he wants to come in.
Angry doesn’t begin to cover my feelings right now. I’m going to throttle Troy when I get the chance.
Jacob manages to park his car two blocks away, which means the asshole is forcing me to walk all the way back to the house in high heels. If the date hadn’t already been a bust, the lack of gentlemanly conduct would seal his fate.
I stride ahead in silence, not hiding the fact that I’m pissed. On the front porch, a stupid drunk girl almost spills beer all over me as she misses a step. Patience is not a virtue I possess. Troy had better stay the fuck out of my way tonight.
I have every intention to disappear into my room, but the sight I encounter as I walk through the front door raises my blood to the boiling point. Strangers are wearing the cosplay outfits I had separated to donate to my brother’s high school. Some of those costumes cost hundreds of dollars and are now being ruined by monster football players who are too big for them. I’m going to lose my shit in front of all these people.
Fuming, I search for Troy in the crowd, finding him in the kitchen, surrounded by his adoring fans. Curling my hands into fists, I march in his direction. He doesn’t notice my presence until I push one of the girls to the side.
“Hey!” she complains. “What the hell!”
I ignore her, keeping my murderous stare on Troy.
His lips curl into a lazy, drunken smile. “Hey, roomie. You’re home. How was your date?”
“Why are your friends wearing my costumes?”
“Oh, I didn’t think you’d mind. They were marked as donation.”
“You ass! You had no right to go through my stuff!”
His bloodshot eyes narrow. “If you don’t want me to mess with your personal belongings, don’t leave them lying everywhere.”
“So, the gloves have finally come off.”
“Who is this bitch?” a random redhead asks.
I turn my ire on her. “What did you call me?”
Troy suddenly jumps in between his guest and me. “Whoa. Everyone, calm down. Charlie, why don’t you grab a beer and chill? This is a party, for fuck’s sake. Relax.” He reaches for my arm, but I quickly pull away.
“Don’t touch me.”
I whirl around and make a dramatic exit, stomping with the fury of a stampede. I could call the cops and end the party, but everyone already hates me, and I don’t need to give them more reason. Besides, my beef isn’t with them; it’s with Troy.
But if he thinks I’m going to simply forget his assholery, he’s sorely mistaken.
He wants war? I’ll give him war.
9
CHARLIE
Trying to sleep while the party was raging downstairs was pointless. Eventually, the guests left at around four in the morning, but I was too angry to fall asleep. Now it’s six o’clock, and I’m out of bed, showered, and ready to go.
The living room and kitchen are completely trashed. There are empty beer bottles, discarded cups, and leftover food everywhere. I wrinkle my nose in disgust. If Ophelia could see the condition of her house, she’d flip out. Troy had better clean this mess by the time I get back.
I search for the costumes I was going to bring to Littleton today. I find none scattered with the trash, and my heart sinks. It’s possible Troy’s teammates simply went home with them. I open the closet below the stairs, hoping they might have left something untouched. To my surprise, most of the stuff is back in boxes. Unfortunately, they stink of beer and other unsavory smells. And I’m pretty sure most are damaged.
With a sigh, I pull the boxes out of the closet and carry them to my car. I’ll sort them out when I get to my parents’. Ben will be so disappointed when he sees what happened to the costumes.
A new surge of anger erupts from the pit of my stomach. I can’t let Troy get away with this without retaliation. I’m a fair person, but I won’t sit back and let people do bad things without retribution.
The hour drive serves to calm me down, and when I park in my parents’ driveway, my anger is almost gone. The garage door is open, but only Mom’s car is inside. It’s still fairly early. I wonder where Dad is.
I bring all the boxes to the garage, and then I follow the smell of Sunday breakfast—pancakes, eggs, and bacon. Mom is behind the stove, cooking more food, while Ben is sitting at the table in the kitchen nook. Bailey, our golden retriever, is the first to come greet me.
I lean forward to rub behind her ear. “Hey, girl. How are you?”
She wags her tail and then licks my hand, making me laugh. Like a miracle, the dark cloud above my head dissipates. That’s the power of Bailey. She’s been part of our family for fourteen years. Her muzzle fur has already turned gray. There’s no denying her age, and the certainty that she’ll be leaving us soon brings a pang to my chest. I hate aging. I wish we were all immortal.
“Hi, Charlie. How was your drive?” Ben asks me.
“Not too bad. It’s early.”
I step close to Mom to give her a kiss. “Where’s Dad?”
Her eyebrows furrow, and her lips become nothing but a thin flat line. “He went to the warehouse before we even woke up.”
“On a Sunday?” I wash my hands at the sink, eyeing the rows of bacon. My stomach grumbles.
“Dad has been really busy lately,” Ben pipes up. “We barely see him.”
I frown. “Really? I thought he was going to slow down.”
“Well, that’s what we all thought. He put Roger in charge of daily operations, so I really don’t know why he spends most of the time in the warehouse now.”
Mom’s bitterness is clear. I’ve been so busy lately that our phone conversations have been superficial. I didn’t realize this was going on.
Dad has a successful carpentry business. He designs luxurious furniture for the rich and famous in LA and other parts of the country. His beginnings were humble though, working out of the garage at our old house. It wasn’t until ten years ago that he sold a piece to a celebrity and his business boomed.
“Oh, before I forget, my boss is throwing a barbeque for his employees and family,” my mom says. “It’s two weeks from now. I hope you can make it.”
“Is it on Saturday or Sunday?” I grab a plate and begin to fill it with delicious food. I didn’t realize I was this hungry until I got here.
“It’s Saturday, and don’t worry, Charlie. We don’t have LARP that weekend,” Ben chimes in.
I sit across from him at the table, noticing his new hairdo. His blond hair is sticking out at odd angles, but it was done by design.
Pointing with my fork, I ask, “What’s up with the porcupine look?”
“Oh, do you like it? This is for when Sir Lorenzo gets hit by lightning and gains new powers.”
That’s his LARP character, and we usually drop them in conversation as if they were real people.
I furrow my eyebrows. “When does that happen? I didn’t write it.”
“Oh, Tammara did. I have to show it to you.” Ben gets a goofy grin on his face.
“Who is Tammara?”