My Grumpy Billionaire

Make—? Somebody definitely snorted something they shouldn’t have. I don’t even have a girlfriend. Actually, I haven’t had sex since I broke up with my last girlfriend, which was…half a year ago? Something like that. I lost all appetite for any more association with her when I found out she only wanted to date me because she knew about my connection to my father—a connection I do my best to hide, since I don’t need the embarrassing publicity of Dad’s women and scandals weighing me down.

It’s the kind of baggage that causes nothing but a lifetime of public humiliation and lost relationships. I’ll never forget what my first girlfriend said: “I just can’t respect people who think behaving like that is acceptable.” And she gave me a look that clearly indicated I was one of those people.

But wanting to avoid baggage isn’t the only thing that’s kept me celibate for the last several months. I’ve had to deal with a fresh batch of overeager coeds who seem convinced that having my dick inside their vaginas is a life goal. Unfortunately, the semiannual let’s-seduce-Professor-Lasker-athon is probably going to continue for the foreseeable future. Getting plastic surgery to turn me into a sewer troll sounds really tempting right about now.

–Dad: Grandkids are special.

Right. Specially embarrassed by their grandparents. Putting a young child through what I had to go through around my parents should earn you jail time.

I put the phone away and resume my exit, pushing my way through the crowd before I lose my temper and sanity. Restless energy roils inside me like thunder, ominous and vicious. A dangerous mood to be in, since it’s times like these I do things I shouldn’t.

And the last thing I need is piling more shit on my already fucked-up night.