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“Mr. Hudson, Mr. Landon, could I get you anything else?” One of the staff comes in and asks us.
Father never bothers showing up for breakfast. He has all his staff in, the bastard couldn’t even give them the day off.
Both Landon and I are surprised he hasn’t come to gloat.
Landon speaks up first. “No, we are going to head out now. It’s a long drive back.” The staff member nods and leaves us alone.
“Bro, let's head. He isn’t coming down.” I say to Landon as I put my phone back in my pants pocket.
He rakes his fingers through his hair. “Yeah, let’s go.”
Landon’s been quiet since last night, processing the events and blaming himself. We are twenty-fucking-one years old and this shit still happens in our lives.
“Dude, it’s not your fault. None of this is our fault. Four more months. One more semester, ok?” I reassure him as we stand from the couch.
Walking to the door, we hear footsteps making their way down the stairs.
“Just got word, drug tests your first week back. Don’t fuck up, got it?” Father says with a sharp tongue.
In unison, “Yes, sir.”
“Since you boys couldn’t make it for dinner, I decided I couldn’t make it for breakfast. And to keep the staff on all day. They cannot be with their families today, because of you both and your actions. Learn from this and do better.” He scolds us.
“Yes, sir.”
It’s not our fault. The man is evil and vindictive. The staff knows this. Fuck, he makes me so angry.
Father finishes coming down the stairs, looks at us both, our sweaters waiting for us at the front door, folded on the entrance table. We grab them and go to leave, but he still doesn’t speak. It brings an uneasy energy into the room.
We don’t feed into it. He’s looking for an argument, for any excuse to bring hellfire upon us again. The fucker thrives on it.
He’s part of why I am the way I am. Though I would never tell him that. He would love it too much.
The difference is, I know when and where to direct it. The Spawn of Satan nickname came to be in my teenage years, if the glove fits.
We leave without speaking a word, and get into Landon’s Rover, still silent as we drive off the property. Crossing through the open gate, a weight is lifted and we both breathe out a sigh of relief.
“How’s your arm?” I couldn’t check in last night. He still has cameras everywhere, and if he were to see me tending to Landon, he would just do it over it again.
“I’m fine. Nothing I’m not used to. I’ll just have to cover this one up once it’s healed enough.”
He tattoo’s over them. He has a few on his chest and torso as well.
Mine are on my back. Anytime anyone has asked, I just tell them I had been in an accident. It’s easier than explaining the truth. Poor popular jock gets hurt by his daddy. I am not one to accept a pity party. It’s done, it happened. Let’s move on, shall we?
Banks needs to learn the world isn’t rainbows and butterflies. Her stint in our basement is a walk in the goddamn park compared to what it could have been. I don’t feel at all guilty.
“Hud, message the guys and tell them about the drug test,” Landon barks at me.
He is rightfully in a mood. I know it’s not directed at me, so it’s not worth battling over. Pulling out my phone, I send the guys a heads up on our group chat. Raiden is the first to reply, then wishes us a Merry Christmas with the addition of the middle finger emoji. It makes me laugh. He’s a nice guy, you could even say he is a charmer.
The text also pops up on the electronic dashboard of the Rover, bringing a smile to my brother's face. He needed that.
We both did.
I will always hatethis drive. It better be our last time driving home from that place. We are finally back home in Groveton. It’s late, well past sundown and our Banksy needs me, I can feel it.
“Dude, you are way too awake right now.” Landon can feel it too, my internal energy is radiating. It’s a twin thing. We just know things, feel things. I can’t explain it, but it’s real.
