Scum (Wrong Side of the Tracks 1)

Ros hung his head, but there was no point in fighting Dad about this. He wouldn’t change his mind. What Ros needed to do was talk to Shane. Because Shane wasn’t trash. And if he’d made the mistake of driving while drunk, it had been a mistake he’d already paid for with ten years of his life. The man Rosen knew now was trying to pull his life together and had gentle lips that showered Ros with attention.

“Fine. Whatever.”

“It’s not, fine, Rosen! You need to look me in the eye and promise that you will not see this man again,” Dad said, squeezing Rosen’s shoulder. Rosen got his looks from his mother’s side of the family, so when they stood side by side his father was like a concrete block towering over a young tree and threatening to squash it.

Ros met Dad’s glare. “I promise not to hang out with him.” Lies. If Ros had his way, he’d be riding Shane’s dick by the time this day was over.

They measured one another with glares hot enough to make the water evaporate from the glass standing on Ros’s nightstand, but in the end Dad walked out and gestured for Ros to follow. “The pecan pie is Jessica’s, so make sure you praise it.”

The first thought that popped into Ros’s brain was that maybe he could sneak some away for Shane, but the truth was that Shane might not want anything from him, and just imagining that reality had Ros’s heart filling with lead as he followed Dad down the broad staircase and into the entrance hall decorated for the occasion with bouquets of flowers and fruit in warm fall colors. They moved in silence, and fortunately Jessica, and his stepmom, Lisa, were listening to seasonal music in the kitchen, so Ros hoped he could get away with speaking as little as possible.

He greeted Jessica with a fake smile and told her how happy he was to have her over. He didn’t enjoy deception, but he was a good actor and could put on a show if necessary. Sometimes life was easier that way, and as long as she didn’t bat her pretty eyelashes at him too much, he could just treat her like any other family guest.

Lisa, father’s new wife, shimmered like a disco ball in a silvery cocktail dress. With highlighter brightening her cheekbones, she resembled a Barbie doll depicting someone at least ten years younger than her forty-something self. That youthfulness was a trait Dad appreciated, regardless of how it had been achieved. Having a spouse too far apart in age would have seemed inappropriate to the most conservative crowd, but a lady ten years his junior who looked as though she might step onto the runway straight out of her Lamborghini was aspirational for many of Dad’s male voters.

She was bending over by the oven in their massive kitchen, but the turkey wasn’t yet ready, so she offered Ros a platter of finger food, as if he weren’t about to be completely stuffed in a few hours’ time.

“Have you pre-recorded tonight’s forecast?” Jessica asked, nodding toward a collage of photos taken with famous people Lisa had met, thanks to her job as the region’s most popular weather lady. It was just the thing to ask, and Lisa bloomed with smiles.

“More experienced presenters get time off on holidays, especially when they have families,” she said with pride and gave Dad’s stomach a gentle pat on the way to the pantry. “A man’s gotta eat. And I have two of them to feed.”

“Do you play any sports, Rosen?” Jessica asked.

As soon as Ros opened his mouth, Dad patted his shoulder. “He used to be great at baseball. If he weren’t so smart, I would have pushed him to go professional.”

Jessica’s big brown eyes lit up. “Really? That’s amazing. What do you do now then? Rocket science?” She giggled and poked Ros’s shoulder.

“Nah, I study art—”

But Dad wouldn’t even let him finish. “He’s always been this way. A man who needs to do things his way, but still couldn’t help himself and joined the same fraternity I had when I was his age.”

Lisa smiled at them as she poured wine into four glasses. “Weren’t you saying that you plan to become an architect?”

Because architecture was so much more respectable than sculpture. And in the eyes of the public, would make more money. The most appropriate career for an artistic man from a well-connected family.

“Very good choice, son!” Father said and gave Rosen’s shoulder a gentle slap before focusing his attention on Jessica. “And you… you’re studying medicine, correct?”

Jessica gave a short, sweet chuckle, as if it pleased her that he remembered. “I’m only in my first year, but I aim to specialize in dermatology.”

Lisa nodded, taking a sip of her wine. “Very sound choice. You won’t have to deal with the less pleasant aspects of being a doctor.”