I smirk, instantly loving the idea. Anything to get me away from this place for a few days.
I didn’t realize Gomez knew my family owned a lake house, but I guess word spreads. The curse of being the richest guy on the team, I suppose. People like to talk about you when your family owns more than one house. They like to whisper behind your back when they find out your mom’s a famous actress and your dad’s a billionaire.
Shit like that gets around, and I usually hate it.
But a party at the lake house in Aspen sounds pretty cool, so I bite back a snide comment and sniff instead.
“Would you… do you think that’s a good idea?”
“Yeah.” I nod, tucking my hand under my armpit. “Pretty sure it’ll be free. Need to check with the old man, but I’ll text you some dates.”
“Awesome. It’d be cool to fit it in before we have to head back to Nolan, but I know that’s short notice. Think we can swing something, though?”
“Maybe. I’ll give it a shot.”
“Cool.” Darian’s voice picks up, and I can imagine his face. He’s like a fucking labrador puppy. Energetic and happy all the time. It’s a little annoying, but he’s good people, so I tolerate it without saying anything. “As soon as I hear back from you, I’ll post in the team chat and let the guys know. Figure we should invite the whole team. My sister wants to come too, and she’ll no doubt invite her friend. Would that be okay? How many people can the lake house handle?”
“It comfortably sleeps twelve, but we can probably squish in fifteen to twenty at a push. There are spare mattresses in the basement that we can throw on the floor.”
“Excellent!”
“If we’re gonna do this, we should definitely have a party on the Saturday night. Get some honeys over. Get a little hectic.”
Darian laughs. “Sounds good to me, man. This is going to be awesome.” He sings the last word, and my upper lip curls, but I don’t say anything.
This guy is a little too much, but he’s giving me an excuse to party it up in Aspen. Nothing wrong with that.
“I’ll go talk to the old guy now. Text you soon.”
“Thanks, bro. You’re the best.”
I snicker and hang up before he says any other stupid shit.
Slipping my phone into the back pocket of my ripped-up jeans, I suck in a breath and turn back to face the house.
It’s impossible not to feel that sense of ominous dread every time I have to walk into the place, but it’s for a good cause.
Partying with my team.
That’s a fucking good cause.
Clomping up the back steps, I walk across the deck and into the house.
“Hola, Alba. Cómo estás?”I acknowledge the maid as I slip off my shoes.
She’s probably just cleaned the floors, and I don’t want to dirty them up for her.
She grins at me.“Estoy bien.”She points at my feet.“Gracias. Eres un buen chico.”
I snicker and shake my head. A good boy? She’s about the only person on the planet who calls me that.
To most, I’m a complete fuckup. I’ve been called everything from a loser to a reckless idiot. And those are just the nice insults.
People usually take one look at me and make fast conclusions.
Pale skin, messy jet-black hair, piercings, tattoos… they think they’ve got me pegged, and that suits me just fine.
I’m happy to be a reckless fuckup.
