Page 3 of Never To Suffer (The Hollywoodland #4)

OCEAN AVENUE

YELLOWCARD

“Did you speak to my assistant about the employment opportunity?”

“Yeah, I called her last week. Not gonna work out.”

“What about the?—”

“I’ve got a thing right now, mom. I picked up another app dev job and I don’t have time.

It’s fine. And my free time is all helping Dani and the band get ready for the competition I told you about earlier.

” I laugh when she nods and goes back to her book.

She hasn’t got a clue what an app dev job is, which means it’s perfect for me to hide behind.

If I told her what I’ve been doing, she’d drop dead right here on the authentic Persian rug from the late 1800s.

Who am I kidding? She’d at least have the common decency to move to the Italian marble since it’s easier for someone to clean.

As someone destined for titles and abbreviations after my name, there’s something refreshing when I’m given the opportunity to tell people I’m a Cam Boi for a subscription-based website making more money than they do.

Or, I would make more money than they do if I posted more frequently.

So far, I only bother to post when we’re desperate, because I’m also working on an app that will outpace the most popular sites in under a year.

I’m not lazy. In fact, I’m the opposite.

But why work a 9-5 job when whipping my dick out for twenty minutes earns me more than a full week's pay at some of those places?

“Your adaptive whatever you called it isn’t an honest job, Alex.”

“App Dev, Mom. And yeah, it is.”

For years I’ve wanted to go on these interviews my mom sets up for ‘real jobs,’ look the interviewer in the eye, and laugh when they ask why a rich kid like me didn’t go to some prestigious college with polo shirts and embroidered blazers.

Knowing my charming ways, I’d end the interview by giving them my link and by the end of the week, they’d book a date for some quality one-on-one time.

It’s an easy and effective way to show them why I opted out of college and into the adult scene.

Besides, in-person hookups are always more interesting. And expensive.

I remember one of my therapists asking me why I do it when I told her about it.

“Well, ma’am, jerking off for guys while on camera might be my calling. Far more satisfying than most jobs, especially things like law or business. And not all the guys are perverts. How is your son, by the way?”

For some reason, she didn’t want to see me anymore after that. Crazy. Her son still did.

I walk across my father’s study to the closet, where my parents keep the few reminders that I once lived in this house.

Not childhood drawings or report cards, no toys, or children’s books.

Clothes. More precisely, custom-tailored designer suits.

A few dozen for every occasion where tight black jeans, t-shirts, and combat boots with holes in their heels won’t cut it.

A dozen hangers from here would easily total up to more than what Dani makes in a year at her office job, and there are at least three dozen hangers.

I grab one of the black suits, a silver watch I could sell for a new car, and a purple tie before heading to the changing area.

“Alex?” My parents insist on calling me that, even though I stopped using it back when I first met Dani. “Do you remember Ronald? He’s going to be at the ceremony next week. You should talk to him about your computer things.”

Oh yeah, I remember Ronald. I also remember the two grand he gave me after a party a few years ago so I wouldn’t say anything to anyone about what we did together.

Television and movies make blackmail look so messy, unartistic, but I’ve got a flair for the dramatic.

I keep tapes, but I don’t tell them. It’s far more fun to show up at big, wealthy events and watch them sweat while they introduce me to their wives and children.

Will I tell? Won’t I? Could I have more on them?

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to say hi to him.”

“Oh, and did you hear about Amelia?” Mom calls out. “She’s graduating next month and already has hospitals all over the country begging for her.”

“She used to date Franky, right? How is good ole Franklin doing?” I yell back through the door while pulling up my pants, knowing it will stop the name-dropping bullshit.

The cops picked Franky up in a child porn sting a few months ago and he weaseled his way out because he could afford a decent lawyer, but even the best lawyer can’t wipe people’s memories.

I finish looping the tie and give myself a once over. Mom will want me to wear the jacket, which works since it’s where I’ll stash my cigarettes and a joint—necessary evils when dealing with the likes of her people.

“Honey, don’t forget that we’re having that party for your father and I next week. So please, try to behave yourself while you’re here.”

I bow with dramatic flair as I come out of the bathroom and present myself. “Yes, mother. Of course, mother. I shan’t conduct myself in any manner thou wouldst deem unfit to thine eyes.”

“Don’t be like that, Alex.” She doesn’t look up from the book she’s reading, ignoring me as I shovel handfuls of expensive chocolates and imported macadamia nuts into my mouth.

“Should I send over the car to take you and Ms. Silva to the shops so you can help her find something appropriate to wear?”

Choking on Russian chocolates wasn’t on my bingo card for ways I would die, but I came damn close when the image of saying that to Dani popped into my brain.

She’d take my head clean off and dance over my dead body in some crazy outfit she custom made for the occasion of ending me.

Even as I cough and try to catch my breath, my mother assumes it’s dramatics and doesn’t look up.

“No, mother,” I choke out. It’s more of a snarl than words.

I don’t like when people talk shit about Dani.

Especially when those people are my parents.

“Dani will wear whatever the hell she wants, and if you don’t approve?

It will save us all the trouble of pretending to enjoy ourselves at your big shindig when you kick us out the servants' entrance.”

“Oh, you know what I mean, Alexander. Don’t act like I have a problem with your…girlfriend.” And yet, she always finds a problem with Dani.

I didn’t plan on meeting the most perfect woman in the world in my second class of public school, but there she sat, dark purple hair fading into electric green at the ends, wild, bright makeup, and an outfit to match.

I’ve seen men peacock for the attention of women, but that beautiful creature had me by the dick the second she flashed those big brown eyes at me.

It’s been thirteen years since, and she’s still holding on tight. Just the way I like it.

“Yes, that will work nicely, but you should wear the blue tie. It makes your eyes brighter.” She means more like hers, since we’re on opposite ends of the blue-eyed spectrum.

Mom thinks people will believe I’m her actual son if our eyes look enough alike.

She even had me wearing blue tinted contacts when she decided mine were too gray.

But most people already know I’m adopted, anyhow.

“Make sure you lay out the suits you want packed for Tokyo while you’re at it.

Not too many. You can buy new ones while you’re there, I’m sure. Those are all too old now.”

“Tokyo?” I rummage around in my backpack and find an empty bag I probably used for weed at some point.

Opening it confirms that suspicion from the smell alone, but it doesn’t stop me from dumping the contents of the small snack bowls into it.

Dani loves this kind of shit, and stopped asking me where I get it from, so she doesn’t get weirded out by eating rich people's food .

My confusion must cut deep because when I glance up, I find my mother making eye contact.

The raised eyebrow stops me mid pour, my heart thumping against my ribs.

I’m not sure if it’s the candy snatching or me not knowing shit about packing for Tokyo.

I can take a guess, though, when she closes her book and takes her glasses off.

Another conference or business meeting they’re dragging me to.

That’s a twelve-hour flight. Twelve hours of panic, white knuckles, and sweat.

Maybe I’ll beat my record of hurling twice the last time we went.

“Alexander, your father notified you nearly a month ago. He gave you ample time to make yourself available and prepare for a trip to Japan. Your father wants this, and to your future, young man, depends on it. You can’t—” she waves her hands around in a wild gesture that looks like she’s chasing a fly.

“You can’t continue this unambitious and uninspired life journey. You’re twenty-eight, for god’s sake.”

I almost correct her, since I’m almost thirty-one, but now might not be the time.

I bite my lip while my brain cycles through emails and texts until the one she’s talking about pops into my memory.

The strategy of ignoring my father until he goes away works once in a while, but apparently this wasn’t one of those times.

My parents both mean well, and they tried to raise me in their footsteps.

But it was more like their shadows. I don’t do business like my dad.

I can’t speak Japanese, I hate flying. I even hate driving.

I’m the worst and only person he has in mind to take over for him when he decides it’s time for retirement and mimosas in Greece.

As for mom’s legal profession, I only want to know the laws that apply to me and how I can get around them when needed.

Otherwise, I don’t give a fuck or have any righteous sense of justice pulling me down that path.