Bad Boy Rich

“Tomorrow.”

Wesley kisses my lips one more time before leaving the room. He stops outside, chatting to Flynn before the main door closes shut. Flynn steps inside my room.

“I didn’t know you were friends with Wesley.”

I sit on the bed, tying my shoes. “You don’t talk to me. Anyway, it’s a bit more than that.”

“You’re fucking him?”

“NO!” I grab my cell and purse. “Why does everyone assume I’m some whore that just sleeps around?”

“Calm the fuck down. I like Wesley. He gets this crowd. Liam left.”

I fall backwards onto the bed, allowing the tears to fall. “I hurt him. I didn’t mean to. Everything is so different. He says I’ve changed. I’ve become one of them.”

Flynn sits beside me, smelling of stale beer. “C’mon, it’s hard. They just don’t get it. He’ll move on. You guys just weren’t on the same page.”

My brother giving me relationship advice was odd. When did he turn into this mature man? Back home, he was the boy that sulked in his room while playing emo beats on his drum.

“You think?”

“Wesley will be good for you. The thrill seeker to bring you out of your shell.”

“I’m not in a shell. I’ve already lived that crazy life. You were too young to remember. I’m happy this way.” I didn’t sound very convincing and if anyone could see through me, it was my baby brother.

He laughs, slapping my knee. “You’re one step away from joining a pottery class.”

“You know, pottery students around the world would take offense to that. Wesley is different. He invited me to some event. I have to go buy a dress. I really don’t want to buy anything, I have to send some money to Mom.”

Flynn leaves the room, coming back moments later. “Here.”

There are a few hundred-dollar notes in the palm of his hand. I sit up, cautiously eyeing the pile of money.

“Where did you get this from?”

“Gigs.”

“I can’t take this.” I push his hand back towards him.

“You can. It’s the least I can do for being a pain in the ass.”

“Okay.” I take the money with a thankful smile. “But just promise you’re not doing anything illegal.”

He places his hand on my head, purposely messing my hair, much to my annoyance. With the pillow by my side, I grab it and whack him with it, just like old times.

“I promise.” He winks, before walking away and singing the lyrics to Gold Digger, just to rile me up.

The house is located on a quiet street in Bel Air.

I had never seen a house this huge; sprawled across several acres, appearing like a luxurious castle rather than a home. On the car ride over, Wesley spoke briefly about his mother. Married to husband number six, a man that invented some digital device that is used on planes hence the wealth. If I thought Emerson’s home was big—this was on another level.

The community was gated, and even after we passed the security check, there was another large wrought-iron gate that had two men manning the entrance. Wesley is fidgeting, pulling out a cigarette in the car. I wasn’t fond of his smoking and my girlfriend duties may not have included nagging. I decided, for now, I would keep my mouth shut.

My focus is on my dress. I’m extremely uncomfortable. There is way too much boob showing. The black bodice is low-cut, draping down my chest and matched with a sheer skirt. The lady in the store said it accentuated my wide hips. It wasn’t the most awful comment she made after I got the Julia Roberts treatment à la Pretty Woman.

“Did I tell you how sexy you look tonight?” He leans into me, running his tongue down the middle of my exposed chest. “You taste just as nice.”

I wanted him, inside of me. I’d never felt this sexual attraction to a man that made me so irrational. Did people have sex in cars with drivers just doing their own things? God…how I wanted to answer my own question.