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While I haven’t been dropped yet by the other brands that I’ve signed with over the past few months, Stellan is right. If I don’t get back on the team, I may as well kiss goodbye to all my extracurricular campaigns.
Not that I care about them.
I’m more concerned with the game, but it still fucking stings.
Turning around to face him, I raise my eyebrows. “Spooky. But Halloween is still a few weeks away, so why don’t you go trick or treating somewhere else?”
There’s a very small chance that he took my hint and is now on his way back to the car, ready to drive back to New York and tell on me to Con. Because obviously, that’s why he’s here, isn’t he?
To do Conrad’s bidding.
Because that’s how it always started when we were kids.
I’d do something wrong and Con would first send Shep to talk to me. On my level. And make me realize my mistake. If he couldn’t do the job, then it would be Stellan’s turn. If he proved to be unsuccessful as well, then it was time to bring out the big guns: our big brother himself.
I guess I’ve finally surpassed Shep’s stage and so Stellan is here.
Anyway, I’m still hoping.
Until I reach the kitchen and get out orange juice from the fridge, gulping one third of the bottle down before I take a breath, and hear, “What the fuck?”
Of course he hasn’t gone anywhere and is probably taking stock of the living room.
Well, I don’t blame him; it looks like a war zone in there.
As I’m screwing the cap back on, I hear from behind me, “What the fuck happened in there?”
I take my time putting the bottle back in the fridge, looking for some quick snack to put together not because I’m hungry — although I could eat — but because I wanna piss my big brother off. He started it by showing up here and pissing me off, so it’s only fair.
Finally I turn around and his eyes are slits and his jaw appears to be made of granite. A vein is bursting on his temple and I swear I can see it. Stellan magically turning into Conrad.
“You done jerking me around?” he goes.
I lean against the counter. “Not really. But I guess I can take a short break.”
“What the fuck happened to the living room?” he asks again. “Why are there holes gouged out of the walls and where’s the coffee table and the bookcase?”
“Your books are fine, in case you’re worried about that,” I tell him. “I boxed ’em up, put them up in your room. I only broke the bookcase. Coffee table’s gone though, completely trashed. I couldn’t do anything to save it after I threw it against the window. I did clean up the glass and finished putting in a new window yesterday. And there are holes on the walls because I realized cleaning up after throwing furniture around is not as fun as they make it look on TV.”
All true.
Living in my childhood home has turned out to be a little more traumatic than I thought. While I’ve come back from New York on occasion, I’ve mostly stayed over a night or two, if that. I usually crash at a friend’s place or just stay out until all I can do is drop dead on the bed.
Which is pretty much all I’ve been doing ever since I moved back.
Even so, prolonged exposure to this godforsaken house, where my mother died and our father abandoned us and where Conrad ruled with an iron fist, isn’t good for me.
“And who are those fucking roses from?” Stellan asks.
I grind my teeth then. “Why don’t you ask the douchebag you shared a womb with?”
Stellan frowns in confusion. “Shep?”
“Yeah,” I reply with clenched teeth. “Apparently he thinks it’s funny to act like a clingy girlfriend and send flowers three times a day. Because I refuse to answer his texts or calls.”
Again, all true.
That jerk is the most annoying human on the planet. At first, it was his incessant calls and texts and voicemails. When I let every single one go without an answer, he resorted to this. Sending me flowers with pink little notes. As if written by a crazy ex-girlfriend.
Hey lover, when are we getting together?
Lover, why don’t you answer my calls?
Don’t you love me anymore, lover?
Is there someone else, lover?
If there is, I’m going to scratch her eyes out for laying them on my man.
One note had just this: Loverrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.
I have half a mind to report him to the cops or just call him the fuck back.
Stellan’s lips are twitching though, as if he finds it all funny.
“Oh, so this you find funny?” I growl.
He shrugs. “At least he’s getting to you.”
“Yeah, like he’s been getting to you for the past year?” I say, watching him carefully. “Going after the same girl that you like.”
