And the truth is, it already feels like I’ve lost my mom. I lost her a long, long time ago.
Remorse courses through me as those thoughts land in my head, like always. I’m a shitty son for wishing her dead, but sometimes it’s hard to be understanding and show compassion. I know she’s a victim. I know Dad has preyed on her weaknesses, like he’s done with mine, but I never remember her fighting back. Not even when he struck me for the first time. I was six, and I cried my eyes out, calling for my mommy, begging her to make it stop, but she just stared at me with this blank look on her face, like she did every time after that until I got old enough to understand she was incapable of coming to my rescue.
You saved yourself.
Jimmy’s words resurrect in my mind, and I feel the truth of them deep in my bones. I have had some help, but he’s correct. I am the only person who can save me, and I’m not out of the woods yet. It’s a work in progress, and I won’t be able to say I’m safe and free until I’m out from under my father’s clutches. But I’m in the home stretch, and I just need to hang in there a little longer.
“You’re taking Gayle Turner on a date tomorrow night,” Dad says, yanking me from my head.
“What?” I splutter because that is literally the last thing I was expecting to come out of his mouth.
“You heard me. It’s all arranged. You’ll pick her up at eight, and I had my secretary make a reservation for you at Chelle’s Steakhouse.”
“Why the fuck did you do that?”
He clenches his hand around his tumbler. “Your language is appalling. You can’t show up at Yale speaking like that.” He waves a hand in my direction, and his lips pull into a grimace as he scrutinizes the additional ink on my arms and my neck. “It’s bad enough you look like that. Lawyers don’t look like thugs.”
“Taken a look in the mirror lately, Pops?” I snap, cutting across him. “You might not have my ink or use my appalling language, but you’re a thug all the same.” Dad has climbed his way to the top using any and all means necessary. Rumors are rife within legal circles about his association with shady characters and criminal enterprises, so he’s far from a saint.
My tats and piercings might make me look like a thug, to some people, but there’s only one gangster in this family, and it ain’t me.
True to form, he ignores me as if I haven’t spoken. “I have told you, time and time again, to stop with the ink. Don’t make me take it out on your mother. This is your last warning. Clean up your act, Vander, or I will make you.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
He throws his glass over my head with a loud bellow, and I duck down in time to avoid it. It slams into the wall, shattering upon impact.
“That was my daddy’s,” Mom says, in a dazed voice, staring straight ahead. It’s a miracle she even noticed. She’s kicked off her shoes, and her knees are tucked into her chest as she swigs from the vodka bottle.
“Do I look like I give a fuck about your daddy’s precious Waterford Crystal?”
“You gave a fuck when you married Mom for her father’s connections,” I spit out.
Dad only married Mom because her father was a judge and he used his influence to land Dad a prestigious job with a top law firm the second he graduated from Yale Law. My grandparents are both dead now and not here to see the way things have turned out for Mom and me. I doubt they would’ve been so supportive of the marriage if they knew how he has cheated, lied, bribed, and stolen to get to where he is. He’s even swindled Mom out of her inheritance, ensuring she has no independent wealth to fall back on so she’s eternally tied to him.
I bet it kills him he couldn’t stop me from claiming the inheritance they left for me. I got the cash the day I turned eighteen, and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. That money is all I have to use as leverage when I try to convince Mom to leave him. There is just enough to set her up in an apartment, free of his clutches, and pay for my first couple of years at Yale.
He points his gun at my head. “Don’t fucking tempt me.”
I bark out a laugh. “We both know you won’t shoot me. You’re arrogant enough to want your legacy to continue, and I’m your only option.”
“Unfortunately.” He fully loosens his tie and rips it off his neck while keeping the gun pointed at me. “God knows I fucked enough women in an attempt to spawn another heir because I didn’t want to be saddled with you.”
Mom doesn’t even flinch at his words. She is long past the point of caring about his ongoing infidelity.
“That makes two of us. What a pity you only shoot blanks.” A smug grin spreads over my mouth as his fingers curl around the trigger of the gun, and I bet he wishes he could put a bullet in my skull now.
“I fathered you, didn’t I?” he snaps.
Yeah, but it took years and plenty of miscarriages before Mom bore him a child.
“It’s possibly hereditary. You should be careful before you throw shade.”
I shrug. Who gives a shit? I’m not even sure I want kids. It’s not something I have given much thought to. I just want this meeting over and done with, so I return to the matter at hand. “I don’t care what’s set up. I’m not dating Gayle Turner. She’s a pain in the ass.”
“I don’t give a shit what you think.” He slides the gun back into his desk drawer, and I wonder why he bothers waving that thing around anymore. It’s an idle threat and we both know it. “Her father is a potential new client. Winning the Turner Media account will enhance my portfolio and my reputation and guarantee Leland signs the papers agreeing to sell Bentley Law to me when he retires.”
“What the fuck does me taking Gayle out have to do with that?”
“Her father asked it of me. Apparently, she’s been trying to get your attention for months, but you’re ignoring her. She’s hurt and asked her daddy to make it happen.”
I snort out a laugh. “Of course, she did. The conniving little bitch.” I pin him with a sharp look. “I won’t let you pimp me out. I’m not doing it.”
“Yes, you are.” He stands and smirks. “I don’t see the problem. I’ve met her, and she’s just crying out for dick. She’s a hot piece of ass with big fuckable tits. Take one for the team. It’s not like it’s a hardship.”
Acid churns in my gut at his lecherous grin. “You take her out then.”
“She wants your dick. God only knows why.” He rounds the desk. “When she kicks you to the curb, I’ll happily take her for a ride.” His smirk expands. “Show her what it’s like to be fucked by a real man.”
I keep a neutral expression on my face as his insult wafts over my head. I lost my virginity at fourteen to an older girl, and we had a steamy three-month affair. She taught me how to please a woman and turned me onto the addictive joys of sex. I’ve been sexually active ever since, and I have added to my repertoire over the years. I have fucked enough women to be confident in my bedroom skills. I’ve had zero complaints with most women begging me for a repeat performance. Unlike my dad, who I’m sure is a selfish prick in bed. I bet he’d need a compass to locate a clit and it’s all about his satisfaction.