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Roy stood up quickly. “Mr. Clarke. Mrs. Clarke. How was the safari?”
My father leveled his eyes with me. “Roy. Go home.”
“Right away, sir. See you tomorrow, Clint.”
Pussy.
I tossed my controller onto the couch as the race came to a close. We almost had it. We almost had those idiots! And now our ranking would fall. We wouldn't have the money we needed to fix our cars. And I’d have to deal with my parents ranting and screaming for a while so they could make themselves feel like decent people.
It wasn’t until Roy closed the front door behind him that my father spoke.
“What’s this I hear about you getting into it with your teacher and a female student on Monday?”
My stepmother came and stood beside my father, trying to present some sort of bullshit united front, even though the two of us never talked. I wanted nothing to do with her—or my real mother, for that matter. I was glad that bitch came in and ruined my father’s marriage. I was glad to be rid of my drug-addicted mother who wanted to do nothing more than spend my father’s money until we were out on the fucking street.
&n
bsp; But that didn’t mean I had to be all buddy-buddy with his new, hot piece of ass.
I sighed. “They pissed me off. The hell was I supposed to do?”
Dad narrowed his eyes. “First of all, you watch that language in this house. And second of all, you man up. A man never allows his emotions to rage out of control like that. You need to learn how to keep it on a leash.”
“Like you do Cecilia over there?”
“What did you say?”
Her eyes stayed pinned on me, but she didn’t move. She didn’t say a word, and she sure as hell didn’t come to my defense. Figures, since she’d always been far removed from the situation. Just another plastic-surgery woman who simply knew how to take her place next to Dad. As my father came into the living room, I prepared myself to buck against it. It wouldn't be the first time I’d physically fought him. It would just be the first time he had the balls to start a fist fight like that in front of someone.
Dad gripped my leather jacket. “You’d do well to remember your manners and mind them in the presence of adults.”
I grinned. “Do adults manhandle their children in their own home?”
“Take it easy, Howard. You’re toeing a line.”
My eyebrows rose at hearing Cecilia’s voice. But it did nothing to harness my father’s rage. His anger. It did nothing but remind me exactly where I got my anger issues from. Exactly why I’d always felt like a burden. Exactly why I’d always hated my fucking father, no matter what he felt he’d done for me.
Dad shoved me against a wall. “How many times am I going to have to bail your pathetic ass out of these situations?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. How much money you got on you nowadays?”
He growled. “I’m sick and tired of that school calling us, Clinton. Don’t you know we have better things to do than worry about our fully-grown son who seems incapable of doing anything right? How the fuck do you expect to have any future?”
“Howard.”
Hearing Cecilia’s voice was so foreign to me. And yet, it was nice. Actually having someone step up to my defense.
Sort of.
I licked my lips. “Fully grown because I just turned eighteen? Or fully grown because you started your first business at eighteen?”
Dad scoffed. “You’re a fucking joke.”
Cecilia cleared her throat. “Howard. That’s enough.”
I smiled at my father, wondering if he’d actually listen to the tits with a voice. My father didn’t give a shit about anything but himself. And his new hot wife. He didn't give a damn when my mother first got addicted to painkillers because of her cesarean with me. He didn’t give a shit when she slipped into postpartum depression and threw herself off the roof. He certainly didn’t give a shit when she stopped taking care of the house and started spending all his money. Leaving me home alone to stew in my own waste and starve.
Oh, no. He only gave a shit when he couldn't keep up with the credit cards she kept taking out in his name. He only gave a shit when it impacted his finances. Not me, or my well-being. So it didn’t shock me one bit when I felt his hand tighten against my leather jacket instead of releasing it.
