Page 20

I look over at the sink, then Camden, unsure if I’m disgusted or just annoyed someone puked in the sink again. “No idea. Probably outside to puke in the pool.”
He raises an eyebrow. His face still has that childlike innocence about him. Though you can tell he’s starting the process of puberty, he’s still very much a child. “Didn’t you just drain it a few days ago?”
“Precisely. Motherfuckers have no respect for the drought.”
Shifting on the stool, I slouch, trying to find a position that doesn’t hurt. I’m uncomfortable. My body aches, my ass burns, and my head’s pounding to the beat of Eminem blaring in the background. It’s the second round of After Dark tonight, and I’m being watched like a hawk. They’ll probably handcuff me to my bike and make me go tonight. It’s in the streets of Los Angeles, near the Staples Center, and though I enjoy the street-style events, it’s the mere idea of doing something out of obligation rather than free will that has me thinking of ways to get out of it.
I bet if I broke my arm or foot, they’d let me out of it. I suppose that wouldn’t be too horrible? Broken bones get you pain pills. I craved getting injured so I could get a shot of Demerol and the hydrocodone that came with it.
Ricky is always the one to say, “Careful,” in his fatherlike tone he’d have from time to time. “You’re gonna get hooked, boy.”
Unbeknownst to him, I’ve been addicted to that shit since I was a kid. Or maybe he does and doesn’t want to say anything.
Beside me, Shade sits at the kitchen bar with his phone in hand, shirtless. I haven’t told you too much about Shade, but he’s an Olympic gold medalist, and I can honestly say, he’s earned the title. Sure, I think he’s a sellout, but he’s fucking earned what he’s been given. If anyone has ever had a God-given natural ability when it comes to slinging freestyle tricks, it’s that dude.
I can’t do what he does, and it fucking pisses me off because he doesn’t even have to try. Little shit.
Like me, he’s covered from head to toe in ink. Everyone’s curious about the tattoos on the Sawyer brothers. We all have them. Body art is addictive, and I crave the pain that comes with them. It’s my life splattered in stories across every inch of my body. Some are hidden, places no one sees, while others are gnarly and reflect things I despise. They’re snapshots, reminders of acts despicable and heroic, and some just plain stupid.
I have the word “hate” tattooed on the inside of my lip, and most would come to the conclusion I have a lot of hate inside of me. Or stupidity. There’s really no explanation. I can’t hide the truth, nor do I want to.
There’s a woman in the house, one I barely recognize. She’s in the kitchen beside Roan, doing the dishes. While it’s normal for me to see people I don’t know in the house, this one’s dressed in a maid’s uniform. My dick twitches as the thought of her bent over the counter while I fuck her. It’s been a few nights since I’ve gotten any, so naturally, my mind goes there. I’m twenty-three. My mindalwaysgoes there.
“Who is that chick?”
“The maid. She’s been our maid for like two years,” Shade tells me. “How do you not remember? You took her virginity a week after she was hired.”
Not surprising. I’m labeled as the “cherry picker” among my friends, if you can call these leeches friends. They’re only here because we have this house and an endless supply of drugs and alcohol. “I thought Scarlet was the maid.”
“No, she’s Willa’s assistant.” It’s also not surprising I never remember what Scarlet does around here, other than tease me with her wild mess of blonde curls. “And she’smygirlfriend,” Shade points out, knowing what I’m thinking.
“She’ll get bored with you soon.”
“The fuck she will.” Shade glares, bringing his cup of coffee to his lips, watching me with a marked warning. “Don’t touch her.”
Scarlet, unaware of who’s in the room, slams her phone on the counter and glares at Shade. “Dude, you have to commit to sexting once you start. You can’t just quit right after I send you a picture of my asshole.” Her eyes narrow on his. “Seriously, come on. I feel like there’s a picture of my ass on Instagram right now.”
Wanting to see that picture for myself, I attempt to take Shade’s phone from him, laughing.
He slaps my hand away. “Mind ya biness.”
I wave my hand at him and pour myself a bowl of cereal. “Her pussy’s been stretched out. I’m no longer interested.”
Scarlet sneers at me. “Everything that comes out of your mouth makes me want to hit you in the sac.”
Shade and Scarlet leave, probably to investigate the asshole picture, or whatever, I don’t really care.
Camden grins at me. “Why would she show him her asshole?”
I certainly never said Camden hanging out here was a good idea. “Go ask her. I bet she’ll tell you.”
Look at the poor kid. He’s tempted.
I nudge his shoulder. “Where’s your mom at today?”
“Stepmom,” he clarifies. “And she’s probably shopping. I don’t know. I hate her.”
It’s true. He has no love for her. Probably because she’s what, like ten years older than him? Might as well be his stepsister at that age difference.