ChapterFour
Parker
How did I get so lucky to get two lectures in the same weekend?
My mother stands just beneath the crystal chandeliers hanging over her side of the dining room table. The long cherrywood table is polished to perfection, the ends given extra attention since my parents sit on either side of them most often. A delightful spread of freshly cut fruit, cheese, and crackers rests near her perfectly manicured nails that are drumming the table in the most irritating fashion.
That sound grates my fucking teeth.
“You just had to be rude to her, didn’t you?” She sighs, closing her eyes briefly as she taps the center of her forehead with a peach nail. “I just don’t understand your willful defiance. You do realize you’re competing with three other contracts, right?”
“Three other contracts?”
She pierces me with a sharp glare, folding one arm over her stomach while gesturing with her free hand. “Yes, three, Parker. And you might sully your odds by being the meatheaded asshole you’ve always been.”
My jaw cracks as I roll my right shoulder. “Whatever.”
“You’re a selfish, arrogant little prick just like your father,” she spits. “Literally always thinking with your tiny fucking pecker. That’s just what you always do, isn’t it? You just love shoving your precious little dick into everything that has a hole, huh? Just like your father.”
Keeping my mouth shut is a fucking chore. My jaw aches from the strained effort, every muscle in my body flexing in defense. “And how would you know what he does? It’s not like you two share a room.”
She shakes her head. “Shut the fuck up, Parker. You have no idea what your father and I have done for you. All you do is take without thinking. What if you just used your goddamn brain for one second? Don’t you think it would finally get you where you need to go?”
“You mean where you need to go.”
“You ungrateful shit.” Her face reddens as she points to the foyer beyond the dining room. “Go talk to your father. I’m done with you.”
Don’t need to tell me twice.
Sneering, I spin around on my sneaker and march toward the stairs, being sure to step heavily so she can hear me making my way to the second floor. It takes a moment to locate my father, but when I do, I walk in on him balls-deep inside the maid who was cleaning my bathroom. Her eyes roll back as her lips part in a perfect circular shape, overzealous gasps signaling her willingness to take his filthy dick.
“Oh, Mr. Somerville,” she groans. “I’m your fucking whore. Use me.”
Disgust invades my gut. I snatch the handle of the door while backing out of the room. My father catches me leaving and grunts, sweat dripping from his temples as he stares at me.
“Parker,” he barks. “Get in here. Watch how a real man fucks a woman.”
“I’ll fucking pass.”
He glowers. “You’ll stand in here, boy, and watch how it’s done.”
Anxious tension freezes me in place while I watch my father split open the maid. Just like I did yesterday. Almost the same way, too. He’s doggy-style behind her with his hands on her hips, and that must be a new pair of white pantyhose that’s gotten torn. Did he buy her new ones? Is he going to replace this pair, too?
“Your little dick isn’t enough for her,” he growls. “That’s why she always comes to me later. Isn’t that right, you filthy little whore?”
“Yes—sir—yes—fuck!”
Anger boils in my chest, threatening to spill over. My hand clings to the doorknob, rage causing the wood to rattle as I try to steady myself with the knob.
“You’ll never be enough,” my father spits. “That’s why you have to watch how it’s done. Anything you do with your new twat of a bride—if she even chooses you—will probably scare her off. That little dick won’t—”
I slam the door. The wood cracks in the frame, spiderweb fractures exploding in the plaster above the doorway. Stomping away doesn’t do a damn thing to cover my ears from the sounds emanating from that room. Their panting breath, their rising cries, that sickening smack of flesh whacking flesh.
Downstairs, I drift through the living room, noticing my mother calmly reading on her tablet. If she’s bothered by the disgusting pig noises my father is making upstairs, she doesn’t show it. I storm out of the house, slamming the door behind me, hoping I’ve cracked the doorframe on that one, too.
***
The noise in my head is too loud, too harsh for me to be blasting music like this in my Mercedes Benz. Choppy bass rattles the frame as I speed toward the docks, trying to figure out where the fuck my new toy disappeared to. After checking a few spots, I figure she might be on that shitty little speedboat of hers.