Spite Club (Mason Brothers 1)

“You have got to be kidding me,” I said.

“Evie, come on, you’re smarter than this. You’d never stoop to date a guy like him. He’ll probably hit on you, because he’s that kind of jerk. I’m telling you, don’t do it.”

Josh didn’t know about Old Evie, because I’d never told him. Old Evie was my shameful secret, because Old Evie, in her day, had stooped pretty low. Josh, I realized now, would never have understood Old Evie.

Never in a million years.

“You don’t get a say in who I date,” I told Josh. “Not anymore. Maybe I’d like Nick to come on to me. Maybe I’ll say yes when he does.” If he does. “At least he isn’t a cheater, and he’s hot.”

“Evie, stop acting like a child.”

“Fuck you, Josh. I have to go.” I hung up.

Chew on that, Josh.

I’d implied something would happen between me and Nick, without saying anything outright. It would probably bug him for hours. It was petty, and I liked it. I was allowed to be fucking petty.

But the words kept going through my head as I drove home.

All he does is party.

He’s completely irresponsible.

A loose cannon.

You’d never stoop to date a guy like him.

He was probably right. I’d met Nick, if only briefly, and all signs pointed to a guy who was lazy, irresponsible, and completely spoiled. Not to mention rude and insulting. The kind of guy I absolutely should have nothing to do with.

But it had made Josh so mad.

Josh had no idea, but he’d just made Nick Mason sound like the perfect man.

Five

Nick

My brother’s house was in one of Millwood’s suburbs, on a street of one-story bungalows dating from the seventies. Most of his neighbors were factory workers and secretaries, and like me, Andrew didn’t fit in with his neighbors. But he had different reasons than I did.

I picked up two cups of coffee on my way and when I pressed the buzzer at his front door, I made sure to wave the cups in front of the security camera. There was barely a heartbeat before Andrew buzzed me in.

He was in his computer room, which used to be the living room, where some seventies family would watch TV. Now it was filled with expensive custom equipment and piled-up dishes. Andrew was at one of his keyboards, typing code, and he barely glanced up when I came in the room.

“You look like shit,” he said, going back to his typing.

I put the coffees down on the edge of a messy, overcrowded desk. “I didn’t realize it was a beauty contest.”

“Good, because you’d fail.”

“Tough crowd,” I said. “I guess I’ll just drink these two coffees by myself, then.”

“Fuck you, Mason,” Andrew said. “Give me one of those before I wheel over there and kick your ass.”

Andrew was my older brother, and my only sibling. He was a programmer. He was also in a wheelchair, since he was in a car accident five years ago at age twenty-three. This was the reason he lived in an old bungalow—because there were no stairs. If you think this is some sad story about a guy in a wheelchair, think again.

“You really do look like ass,” he said when I handed him his coffee. “What’s going on?”

I sat down and swigged my coffee. Andrew was wearing sweatpants and a white t-shirt, four days’ worth of beard on his jaw. He lived alone and didn’t give much of a shit about his appearance. Kind of like me, except I had a Chihuahua and I could still walk.