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He hops down from the stool, probably off to find Scarlet, or play video games.
The maid, remember her? She moves from the kitchen to the living room that opens up to the outdoor kitchen and bar. Hopefully to clean up the puke outside on the pool deck. Most Saturday mornings are spent doing that around here.
This leaves me in a room with Roan, who leans into the counter, setting a plate of bacon on the counter in front of us. He cooks when he’s home. And if he’s not cooking, Ricky does. We may have maids, but we’ve never hired anyone to cook for us.
I haven’t said much about my older brother, but I don’t like Roan. Sure, he’s my brother, but I barely tolerate his presence in my life. Or maybe it’s him who barely tolerates me? Probably the latter, but I’m not going to delve into why that is. You’ll find out someday. . . or never.
Okay, I’ll tell you. I fucked Roan’s girl. Not like I meant to. It just happened. Which, one could argue, said a lot about my level of likability among my brothers.
One could also argue, she wasn’this girlat the time. They weren’t even dating. Was it my fault she turned to me when he fucked up?
Don’t answer that.
I take a piece of bacon after I finish a bowl of Captain Crunch. “When did you get back?”
He chews his own piece, a cup of coffee in his other. “Last night.”
I nod, and that’s about the extent of our conversation. It’s not like we sit and talk about our lives, and certainly not Ophelia, his so-called girlfriend whose virginity I apparently took. I’d like to point out, before you judge me, for one, I didn’t know she was a virgin when I fucked her. Ophelia has been hanging around here since she was a kid. She’s actually the daughter of the head of our security, Carl. That led to a lot of nights where she hung out with us, and her and Roan had a thing. He’s like five years older than her and kind of kept her waiting until she was old enough. Fucked up, huh? Or not. Maybe that was the gentlemen thing to do. I’m not a gentleman so don’t go listening to me.
Anyway, shortly after her eighteenth birthday, she got drunk at one of our parties. I. . . probably was drunk too, and we were in the hot tub together. Next thing I knew she was on my lap, kissing me, and it went from there.
After we had sex, which, I might add didn’t happen on my bed. It happened in the hallway and then ended in my room on the floor. I was smoking near the window afterward, and she threw her hands over her face and said, “Oh my God, Tiller Sawyer took my virginity.”
I should probably note here that there wasn’t a lot of excitement in her tone. It was more like disappointment.
You don’t know how many times I’ve heard that exact phrase. You’d think by now it’d hurt my ego because they never seem very happy about that, but it’s not because they didn’t have a good time. I assure you they did. It’s because they know it’s not going anywhere from there. Rarely do I fuck a girl twice.
Twisting my cell phone around in my hand, I notice a text from Ledger that must have come through sometime this morning.
Ledger: She left me. Can I stay at your place for a few nights?
And by a few nights, he means months. That’s how long it took the last time he fucked up when we were in LA for the X-Games, and he fucked that chick from Fox Sports two weeks before he married this other chick. If you ask me, and again, no one will, he shouldn’t have gotten married.
Me: Whatever.
“What’s wrong with you two?” a girl asks as she gestures to Roan and me. I’d like to add, I don’t know who this chick is. Again, not unusual in this house.
I look up but don’t say anything, spinning my cell phone around on the granite countertop. It hits the plate of bacon, then stops with a thud.
“Tiller knows why,” Roan grinds out, giving me that “I hate your fucking guts” stare he uses so often.
“Actually, I don’t,” I say, folding my arms over my chest. “Please elaborate.”
“You fucked my girl.”
Here we go again. I can see his time in Europe hasn’t made him forget, has it? “You need to stop this bullshit. Your girl chose me to pop her cherry. Big fuckin’ deal.”
“She was drunk. She didn’tchoose you. You’re not special. You were justthere,” he huffs, looking about as furious as I am, maybe even more so.
“Which is more than I can say for you.” I pause, tapping my chin. “What was that chick’s name? You remember, the one you fucked and the reasonwhyO got drunk that night with me?”
“Oh spare me the fucking bullshit excuses as to what could possibly make it okay for you to fuck my girl. You led her upstairs when she passed out to your room. Who does that?”
“A decent human being?” I blink, feigning innocence. Not an easy task for me. “And she wasn’t passed out, yet. Her eyes were still open.”
“She needed someone to take care of her that night and you took advantage of her.”
I slide off the kitchen stool, the energy coursing through me too much to remain seated. “Oh fuck off. I’m so tired of this shit.”