Page 20 of The Family Pet

He pointed a finger at me. “You’re smart, but you’re also fucking dumb. You’ll do anything to win, Ridge, even force your cousin to pretend to be a fucking animal. While that might make you a good lawyer in the future, it also makes you a shitty person.”

I snorted and glanced at Saint. His head was bowed, his cheeks burning a brighter red. Somewhere deep inside, a small amount of guilt pulled sharply, but I’d long learned to ignore those traces of humanity because it was a requirement to survive in this world as a Godfrey. Everyone had it out for us, even our own blood.

Jury ignored me and focused on Saint again. “We can walk out this door right now. He can’t stop us. Just say the word.”

Saint finally raised his chin and looked at Jury, tears welling in his eyes. To my surprise, he shook his head. “I agreed to this. I’m a Godfrey and the real Godfreys stick to our promises.” His gaze slid to me and that guilt ached a little harder. “I don’t need an intervention.”

The steam left Jury and his shoulders slumped. He huffed in exasperation and stormed back over to the island where he began to close his textbooks. I watched him, aware of how annoyed he was with me. This wasn’t the first time I’d done something to shock him, and it was easier to let him cool down before I talked to him. Once he had his books stacked, he pursed his mouth at me and stared for a long moment before sighing and lifting his books to leave the kitchen. Seconds later, the back door slammed shut. He would come around. He was too nice for his own good.

I returned my attention to Saint, who had stayed sitting up on his knees. He’d lowered his head again. I considered him carefully. How long had we been in competition? Since I was about ten and realized what was happening within the family. My parents’ divorce hadn’t helped my Grandma’s and Grandpa’s view of me, with them believing I was a result of a defunct marriage. Saint and I had always played together as kids, until our grandparents started inviting him over to swim in the pool and not me. When I—or rather, Mom—had figured out what was happening, she’d begun to whisper in my ear, telling me they didn’t think I was good enough for them. And she’d been right. Their preference for Saint grew and so did my dislike of him.

Once we’d been pitted in competition with each other, our relationship had spiraled into chaos. We each wanted to win, and we’d done anything to achieve that. Jury didn’t know the circumstances, didn’t realize how fucked up it had become. As kids, Judge and Jury stuck with me, but sometimes I wondered if they would’ve chosen Saint, if he had wanted to be friends with them. The twins were a hell of a lot nicer than me.

I stood, and Saint flinched. How low he’d fallen. . . and I couldn’t completely enjoy the win, not with that small part guilting me. “You want a drink?” I grunted out.

His eyes widened slightly, and when he didn’t answer, I walked to Dad’s alcohol cabinet, which was the top left of the storage attached to the wall. This was only his emergency stash for when he couldn’t be bothered to go to the wet bar in the living room. I grabbed out a bottle of the Macallan single malt and collected two crystal tumblers, then headed back to Saint, who was exactly where I’d left him.

I waved the bottle at him. “Scotch from 1937. Dad likes an expensive drink after work.” I rested the tumblers on the island and poured them half full before shoving the cork in the bottle’s neck. Falling back onto my stool, I raised my eyebrows at him. “Are you just going to sit there? Even dogs need a time out.” I waved at the seat across the island that Jury had vacated. “Sit the fuck down, Saint. Where were you?”

“Dealing with my apartment. I had to pack my stuff and talk to the landlord. In the real world people have to explain why they need to terminate their lease early. In the end, Uncle Bowie paid the guy a bunch of cash to break it.” Saint hesitated, and I was edging toward being really pissed off. “If that is your dad’s, won’t he punish us for drinking it?”

I shrugged. “Probably, but who the fuck cares? I’ll take the blame. Unlike your parents, I admit when I do shit and deal with the consequences.” I threw my drink back, swallowing every last drop, before I uncorked the bottle and filled my tumbler all the way to the top.

Saint finally moved, standing and taking the stool across the island. He grasped the tumbler and dragged it close. His gaze wandered across the books that were spread out, and something flashed in his eyes, a sadness that was new on him. I couldn’t remember a time when Saint ever looked truly upset. He’d had everything he’d ever wanted in his life.

“Do you miss school?” I asked, curious. Hell if I knew why I was starting a conversation with him. Maybe I wanted to get drunk with someone and talk since Jury had exited in a huff. Usually after we studied, we got smashed on cheap liquor and bad jokes. It was better to do it with Dad’s expensive shit.

“Mm-hmm.” Saint stared at the crystal tumbler in his palm before he carefully raised it to his lips, as though afraid it would shatter under his touch. He took a small sip and winced. I grinned. The scotch was the finest money could buy. Dad never did anything half-assed.

“If you could do it all again, what degree would you go back for?”

“Philosophy. I loved it the first time. Why change?” Saint finally chugged the rest of the scotch and made a face. He held out his glass, and I laughed, filling it to the top this time.

“Fuck, that is boring.”

He shook his head. “I like it. I like thinking about moral problems and why people think the way they do.”

“Do you have a boyfriend?” I hadn’t even known he was gay until Dad mentioned it. It certainly wasn’t anything Grandma and Grandpa would’ve told us if they’d realized, but I guessed they hadn’t known before they’d passed. If they had, I would’ve been their favorite.

His mouth turned downward and he stared at his glass again, this time in thought. “I did. Until Mom and Dad ran off with his parents’ money.”

I grunted, nearly spitting out the scotch I’d just taken a swallow of. “Ouch. Bet that hurt.”

He laughed and sounded anything but amused. “I don’t blame him. They fucked us all over.” He reached up to touch his collar, his jaw working as though he didn’t know whether to cry or laugh again. Finally, his stare lifted to meet mine. “As much as you don’t want to see it, Ridge, they fucked me over, too. I had a good life, and then they got worried they would be caught. They ran and left me to be their punching bag. The only thing I was guilty of was living on money that belonged to other people, but I didn’t know. If I had. . . fuck.” He grasped a handful of his hair, tugging it. “I don’t know what I would’ve done. Maybe it’s a good thing I never knew.”

My gaze caught on the bottle of scotch and I stared at it for too long. Instead of filling my tumbler again, I grabbed the bottle and uncorked it, drinking straight from the glass neck. I thumped the scotch bottle down on the island and laughed. “Well, you’re not the only one with fucked parents, so don’t do the poor me act, all right?”

He frowned, brown eyes gleaming with hurt. “I was telling you the truth.”

“Yeah, well, tough nuts. We’re Godfreys. We’re all fucked up.” I laughed uncontrollably until it hurt my chest, and he stared at me as if I’d gone crazy. “Jury loves sitting there and acting like a perfect little angel, but he’s got it good, you know? He has parents who love him and treat him with respect. He can be whoever the fuck he wants. Not us, though. Nah, we’re fucking Godfreys.” Another large gulp from the bottle had me feeling woozy. I hadn’t eaten dinner yet. I thumped my chest with my fist. “I have a mom who’s a fucking whore. She cheated on my dad, then took me with her because she thought it was gonna get her money. Then when she decided I was too much to handle, she threw me at Dad again. And that fucker? He’s a drill sergeant.”

I stumbled to my feet, and Saint shifted to stand like he was going to save me from falling over, but he sat again when I stayed upright. I waved my hands around, bottle forgotten on the island. Mimicking the drill sergeant version of Dad I imagined, I marched around and saluted imaginary people.

“Um, are you all right there, Ridge?” Saint asked nervously.

“Get it? That’s Dad.” I tripped over something and landed on my knees, and I laughed hysterically. I’d gone fucking insane and the alcohol was making it worse.

“You do realize he has cameras in this house, right? He’s probably watching you mock him.” Saint nervously glanced around the kitchen as I flopped on my back, spreading my legs and arms while pretending to be a starfish.