Page 36 of Rowdy Boy


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She places her finger on my lips. “Don’t ever talk about it. To anyone. You hear me?”

When she removes her finger, I scoff, “So what? You’re gonna pretend nothing’s happening? That everything’s okay?”

She grabs my arm and squeezes hard. “Listen. This is how we’ve always done things. This is our family, and you’d better damn well be proud of everything we’ve accomplished.”

That’s not fucking okay. “By selling drugs to poor people?”

SLAP!

Her hand stings against my cheek.

Fuck.

“I told you not to fucking eavesdrop on us,” she says. “Now listen to me. We worked hard to get where we are. To give you everything you could ever want and an amazing home. You wouldn’t be in that expensive high school if it wasn’t for your father’s hard-earned money.”

She scowls at me. “So be happy we allow you to stay here with those ignorant and disrespectful comments about our method of income.” Her condescending tone is as harsh to the ears as her hand was to my cheek.

“Go upstairs and wait until I call you for dinner. And don’t play any of that horrid music or I’ll come and end it myself, you hear me?” she growls, raising a brow. “And don’t fucking mention any of this to anyone. Do you understand?”

“Fine,” I say, and I turn around and run upstairs before she changes her mind and makes me face my dad.

Because if there’s anything I know, it is that he can hit ten times as hard as her.

And there’s way too much at stake to risk getting another bruise.

When I get to my room, I slam the door shut and throw my bag in the corner. So much for a quiet day studying. Who would’ve guessed my parents actually did these illegal things at our own damn home? Not me. I mean, I knew how they earned their money, and I’ve always known deep down they were dirty … but bringing the danger into our own house? How long have they been doing this? And why did I never notice?

I run my fingers through my hair and try to shake off the rage, but it’s tough because all I can picture is my dad’s chauvinistic face barking at me for interrupting him and his trade.

Suddenly, my phone buzzes, and for a split second, the thought of Monica chatting with me crosses my mind. I haven’t given her my number yet, but it’s easy to come by when I dish it out to fans. It isn’t smart for my number to be out there in the world, but it helps with getting laid. And if it helps me get ahold of Monica’s phone number, that’s an even bigger plus.

Disappointment sets in. It’s not her. Guess I’m getting a little too excited at the prospect of her talking to me.

It’s my clock, which I have no recollection of setting. There’s a bonfire tonight at Devil’s Bluff Lake in the mountains, held every year by class seniors. I completely forgot, thanks to my mom and dad. But there’s still enough time.

I grab my bag and fill it with swimming trunks, a towel, and some other stuff. Then I open the window and check to see if anyone’s watching before I jump out onto the balcony and go down the canopy right beside my window.

Fuck my parents, and fuck dinner. I’ll eat some snacks at the lake … a particular snack I’m very hungry for right now, and it starts with the letter M.

Chapter 14

Monica

When Mel and I are dropped off by a friend at the bonfire, the sun is already on its way down. She immediately joins the crowd, while I’m struck in awe at the beauty in front of me. There’s a pristine freshwater lake hidden in a crevice between the mountains, surrounded by luscious trees and moss all around, giving it an earthly vibe. It’s like a secret hideout, a romantic escape, but with the bonus of partying teenagers and a fire they built in a stone circle right at the lakefront.

Everyone’s dancing to the music blaring through someone’s speakers that they put on a stump, most of them holding drinks that were served from a keg in someone’s truck. To the left, someone is placing bowls of chips and cookies on a long chopped down log, while a few others are roasting marshmallows in the bonfire, the smell wafting my way, making me smile.

“Want some beer?” Mel yells at me from the sidelines, holding a cup.

I saunter toward the lake, but as I approach, there’s a particular group of people drawing my attention. A bunch of girls gawk at four boys standing on a big rock at the edge of the lake.

It’s Cole and his band in swimming trunks, getting cheered on by the crowd. One of them, Tristan I think, makes the jump, a cannonball straight into the lake. Everyone screams in excitement, even the people below him who are splashed with water.

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